NINE

Lisa Fetch answers the door of her condo after peering through the eyehole. At least she’s displaying some caution, but I doubt she’s ready to hear everything I have to tell her. She hastily invites me inside.

“Did you meet with Ms. Brutran?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“How did it go?”

“Before I answer, I’d like to know if you’ve heard from Jeff.”

“Not a word. I’m so worried.”

“Take me to where he lives.”

“Why?”

“I want to examine the place. Let’s go now.”

“Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“No.” It’s a hard no, difficult for her to resist.

Fearful, reluctant, Lisa nevertheless climbs in my rental and we speed over to her boyfriend’s place. My driving scares her; she worries I’ll get a ticket. She doesn’t know all I have to do is smile at a policeman and he’ll walk away.

Jeff lives in an actual house. I ask Lisa to remain in my car while I go inside. She resists, naturally, she wants to come along, but finally gives me a key to open the door. I tell her to shout if anyone approaches the car. Yet I feel we’re safe, for the time being. I know we weren’t followed. That was one reason I drove so fast.

I smell the blood the instant I enter the house.

I remember Jeff’s smell from his visit. It’s his blood.

A bloodhound would sense the odor, perhaps, but not a human. And I suspect the people who came for Jeff have not left traces of blood that can be detected by special chemicals or lights. Nevertheless, his blood is in the air, infinitely tiny particles, and it is fresh.

There’s a strong odor in the bedroom. But I’m not surprised that my nose leads me farther on, to his bathroom, to the drain in his tub. I’m able to see the scene as if it were playing out live before me. They surprised him in his bedroom, probably while he slept. They struck him on the head and cut him slightly. Then they carried him into the bathtub and butchered him alive with a sharp knife. It doesn’t matter how long they ran the shower. I can smell the amount of blood that’s gone down this drain, and it’s enough to fill a body.

I notice there’s no computer in the house.

Lisa told me he owns three.

I return to the car. Lisa waits anxiously.

“Did you learn anything?” she asks.

Putting my hand on her arm, I gaze into her weary green eyes.

“Jeff’s dead. He was killed last night. IIC sent their people to kill him.”

Lisa struggles to keep up. “You don’t know that. You can’t . . . I was in his house this morning, and there’s nothing there that shows he was attacked.”

“That’s because the people who killed him were professionals. But in my own way, I’m a professional. I know a crime scene when I see it. Jeff is dead, and your life’s in danger. Frankly, I’m not sure why they didn’t kill you last night. I can only assume you’re still of value to them.”

“You don’t know any of this!” Lisa screams.

I lock my gaze on her eyes and force the truth into her brain.

“He’s dead. IIC killed him. I’m sorry, but you have to accept that.”

In response, she collapses, sobbing, in my arms. I hold her a long time. Although I’ve killed thousands, I’ve never forgotten the feeling of what it’s like to lose a loved one. Lisa truly loved Jeff, he was a fine man, and I know she’ll miss him for a long time.

I drive her back to her condo and order her to pack. She obeys as if in a trance. I make sure she brings with her all the computer records or written files she has on IIC. Apparently, she has a load of information on her laptop, which I keep with me as I store the rest of her things in my trunk. We get on the 10 freeway heading east.

“Where are we going?” she mumbles.

“Where no one can find you. From now on you’re to talk to only me, and on a cell phone I’m going to give you.”

“What’s wrong with my cell phone?”

“Give it to me.”

“Huh?”

“Give me your cell.”

She complies, slowly, and I shatter it on the dashboard and throw it out the window. She gasps.

“Why did you do that?” she cries.

“I suspect they placed a tracking device in it. From this moment on you have to live as if you’re being hunted. Wherever you sleep, wherever you eat, you’re not to use a credit card. Don’t worry about money—I’ll give you cash to live on. I’m going to get your new identity. Lisa Fetch doesn’t exist.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t want you to end up like Jeff. Listen, you asked if I met with Ms. Brutran. I did, and I can assure you she’s one of the most dangerous creatures I’ve met in my life. She threatened to kill me, and only let me leave IIC alive because she wants something from me.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, we didn’t get that far. She’s not a normal woman, and that’s not a normal company. You know this already. You can’t go back there. You can’t call to tell them you’re quitting. Just vanish, for now, until I’m able to figure out what they’re doing and how to stop them.”

“You speak of them like they’re evil.”

“They are. Listen, this morning I was in Texas. The same man who murdered your ex, Randy, was contracted to kill a teenage girl named Shanti Garuda. Does that name ring a bell?”

“You asked me about her earlier. I told you I don’t know her.”

“IIC paid for a high-level hit man to kill this girl. I was lucky I was able to stop him. But IIC was in a hurry that she die. Can you think of any reason, even a crazy reason, why they would want her dead?”

“Wait . . .” Lisa pauses. “No, that can’t have anything to do with it.”

“What is it?”

Lisa is thoughtful. “I told you IIC’s performance in the market has dropped in the last two years. They asked me to correlate groups of numbers with the drop, to see if I could detect a pattern. The cause wasn’t obvious, because on the surface it appeared this number helped inflate their earnings.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean by ‘groups of numbers’ and ‘this number’?”

Lisa shrugs. “That’s just it, I don’t know what the numbers stand for. But they were always five-digit numbers. Initially I thought they represented stock symbols. But later I thought they might be IIC’s way of listing people. Actual employees in the company.”

“How could an individual both help and hurt their earnings? It seems they would either do one or the other.”

“That was the puzzle. That’s why they couldn’t answer it without my help. But I’m a mathematician, and using advanced algorithms I was able to spot a trend where this number—or person—helped boost the revenue from a small group of stocks, while causing other numbers—or other people—to mess up when it came to a large list of stocks. Do you follow?”

“She gave answers that helped her performance but hurt others.”

“Exactly. Although I have no idea how she could do such a thing.”

“Shanti went to work for IIC two years ago.”

“That is a curious coincidence. Do you know the exact date?”

“I can find out.”

Lisa hesitates. “This last task they gave me at work, it made me wonder if I was finally working on what they call the Array.”

“I was wondering the same thing.”

“Do you know what it is?” she asks.

“Not yet.”

“Do you have a theory?”

“I have lots of theories. We need facts. These people are messing with your life, and now they’re messing with mine. Do you know the night after you visited me, someone showed up at my house and tried to kill me?”

Lisa is shocked. “IIC didn’t know we were there!”

“Like I said, they may have had a tracer on your cell phone.”

“Why didn’t you check? Why did you just toss it out the window?”

“Nowadays, devices like that can look like anything. They can be built into the cell’s computer chips. I threw the phone away because every minute we kept it made us that much more vulnerable.”

“What if they put a tracer in my laptop?”

“Did you ever take your laptop to work?”

“No.”

“But you took your cell, probably every day.”

Lisa shakes her head sadly. “How come your assassin failed to kill you but had no trouble killing Jeff?”

“My house is equipped with elaborate security.”

“Still, Jeff’s a cop. He was armed.”

“I’m sorry, Lisa. He’s dead.”

She is silent a long time. “I only have your word that all these things are true.”

I pull over to the side of the freeway. I have tried to be sympathetic, but now it’s time for tough love. If the woman refuses to believe me, she’ll die, it’s that simple.

“That’s the biggest crock of BS I ever heard. You and your boyfriend flew all the way out to Missouri to talk to me about your evil company even before I knew its name. Now you’re trying to convince yourself everything is fine at work and your lover is going to magically come walking back through your door. It’s time you woke up and faced reality. Jeff knew you guys were in danger when he was sitting in my living room. That’s why he was there. And he’s not playing a mind game with you today by not calling. He knows you’d be worried sick if he didn’t check in. But he can’t call you, Lisa. He’s no longer with us. But IIC still is. They’re hunting us both, and I have a feeling they won’t let up until either we get rid of them or they get rid of us.” I pause. “Are you listening?”

She wipes away a single tear. “Yes.”

“Will you do what I say and lie low until we figure this out?”

“Why can’t I help you? No, don’t shake your head, Alisa. You listen. If what you say is true, they’ve murdered the two men I love most in my life. I can’t just sit around forever, waiting for you to call.”

“I understand. I would feel the same way. Let’s make a deal. Give me a few days, and when I feel things have cooled down, I’ll come get you.”

“Then we can work as partners?”

I admire her grit. “Sure,” I say.

•   •   •

I drive as far as Barstow, a godforsaken town in the middle of the desert. There I register Lisa in a Motel 6—under the name Lacey Jones, like they bother to check—and give her ten thousand in cash to keep her afloat. Lisa is reluctant to hand over her laptop, but I’m anxious to scan her notes on IIC. After all, she’s been suspicious of her firm since she went to work for them. I might see something she’s missing. In the end, she lets me take it.

I take her picture before I leave, and I e-mail a digital copy of it to a person in LA who’s an expert at making fake IDs.

I drive back to Malibu and park not far from the IIC building. From there I hike into the hills that overlook the firm. By now the sun is near the horizon, but I see Ms. Cynthia Brutran is still hard at work in her office. I can see her through the reflective glass. Okay, I think, her building is her fortress, she made that point clear. I probably would have been shot down if I had tried to kill her this afternoon. But she cannot remain inside forever, and when she leaves . . .

Unfortunately, the woman appears to be a workaholic. She’s on the phone, she types and reads on her computer, she calls in a second shift of secretaries and dictates letters. Midnight comes and goes, and I continue to sit nestled in the nearby hills while she shows no sign of fatigue.

I grow impatient. I consider storming the building.

Yet I hesitate. I have my reasons. . . .

With my telescopic vision, I can see Ms. Brutran’s computer screens, and by shifting my place in the hills, I see another room where four security guards are devoting themselves full-time to three dozen screens that continue to pan the area around the building. The guards are all armed.

I can’t hear them talking through the glass. Worse, I can’t hear Brutran when she’s on the phone. I’m familiar with most forms of soundproofing, but this is something remarkable. The only explanation is that the glass isn’t just double-plated. Somehow they’ve managed to create a vacuum between the plates. Since sound needs a medium through which to propagate—such as air—these IIC people have created essentially a “dead zone” for any noise.

Why would they go to such extremes? For me? They just met me, and they didn’t know I was coming to their office. Also, I’m not sure they know what I am. The number of guards and cameras and the vacuum windows are all very odd.

It’s like they have armed themselves against another foe.

It makes me wonder if Ms. Brutran knows ancient Egyptian.

While waiting, I scan Lisa’s laptop. It is not very helpful. The information she collected while working at IIC is mostly of a paranoid nature. When she started at the firm, she often wrote notes about how her boss gave her busywork that had nothing to do with her academic background. True, she was given the “reams of papers filled with numbers” that she told me about, and was ordered to search for patterns. But no patterns existed.

Her starting pay was ridiculously high, in the low six figures, but the firm appears to have kept her around in case of some emergency that never appeared. However, her boredom led her to investigate areas that IIC’s upper management probably didn’t appreciate. She befriended a woman named Michelle Ranker, who worked in accounting. It was Michelle who first told her about “the kids” and how she made sure they received their checks every month. Yet Michelle didn’t speak directly about the Array.

I know of Michelle, of course. Marko killed her.

It was actually Lisa’s ex, Randy Clifford, who gave Lisa and Jeff the most insight into IIC. I’m not surprised, since Lisa raved what a brilliant hacker he was. A pity he didn’t cover his tracks better. His quick peek into IIC’s files cost him his life, and now his death was part of a much larger pattern, now that Michelle and Jeff were also out of the picture.

What’s the pattern?

IIC kills without hesitation—one could say they do so casually. By nature, I’m a predator. I do likewise, but nowadays I only hurt those who hurt others. IIC clearly craves money and power, that’s obvious, yet I have no idea what their ultimate motive is.

Brutran can tell me. If she’d just go home, I could kidnap her and torture her at my leisure. I’m determined to make her talk after the way she taunted me this afternoon.

To my amazement, she doesn’t leave her office all night.

The woman has takeout delivered to her office, and she stops for a few breaks to walk about the building and chat with the security guards and other hardworking employees who appear to share her work ethic. But she doesn’t go outside, not even to catch a breath of fresh air.

Does she know I’m watching and waiting?

I move deeper into the hills as the sun rises.

I’m tired of waiting, but I’m not physically tired. I like an hour of sleep a day, but I can go a month without resting. I have a liter of Fiji water on hand; it keeps me from getting dehydrated. I prefer blood to water, naturally, but unlike the fictional fang figures that haunt so many modern novels, I no longer require it to live.

I still have the Glock that I took from the locker near LAX. I didn’t take the gun into Ms. Brutran’s office the first time. I was worried I might trip an alarm. But I won’t confront her again without being armed. Even if she’s surrounded by a platoon of guards, if need be I can grab her and use her as a shield. I assume her home will have security as well; that is, if she ever goes home.

I don’t waste time as I wait for Brutran to leave. I’m on the phone making arrangements for Shanti’s security. It takes work. I have to make sure each security guard assigned to her has a fake FBI identity that can be backed up by a local FBI agent. My people in the FBI have to labor overtime to help with the setup. But by the time the sun comes up, Shanti has at least four guards on her at all times.

That will be enough to discourage any human hit man. However, if IIC sends a fellow like the guy that tried to kill me, then no amount of guards will help. Shanti will die, probably along with her uncle.

I consider dispatching guards to watch over Lisa but decide she’ll be safer relying on her invisibility. IIC has so much money, I fear they might have sources in the FBI like I do. The possibility makes me consider moving Shanti to another state. Yet I sense I can only push her uncle so far. Guards outside the door are one thing. But having to move . . . I don’t think he’ll go for it.

While I wait, I reflect on the last times I saw Teri and Matt. They each came to my house separately, which was good in a way. They were more open being alone with me.

Teri had located half the books I asked her to find, and she felt she’d have the rest by the end of the week. I reassured her she was doing a good job, but I could tell she still felt guilty about the salary I was paying her. She didn’t feel she was doing enough to earn it.

“So far I’m just being a gofer,” she said. “Anyone could do that.”

“Don’t think that way. Before you finish working with me, you will have helped in ways you can’t imagine.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Believe it now. The way I work, I ramp up the further I get into a piece. By the time I finish this book, I’ll be working day and night, and you’ll be begging me for a break.”

We talked in my kitchen, drinking peppermint tea with raw honey. I was only beginning to realize how strict Teri was with her diet. She seldom drank and never took drugs. The same could not be said for her boyfriend. She confided that Matt liked to smoke hashish soaked in opium.

“He only does it occasionally, so I don’t worry,” she hastily added.

“That’s interesting. Did you know that was the drug of choice for the American soldiers who served in Vietnam?”

“No.”

“Where does he buy it?”

“I don’t ask and I don’t want to know. But if Matt wants something bad enough, he gets it. You should see his house. He has an amazing collection of rugs from all over the world. They’re a hobby of his.”

“An unusual hobby for a budding rock star.”

Teri groaned at my mention of his music.

“He’s still acting like a goat when it comes to your offer to help him put together a record. He can be stubborn, and this is definitely one of those times. He feels like he has to make it on his own or it doesn’t count.”

“To who?”

“I asked him the same thing. Who is he trying to impress? It can’t be me, because he’s just annoying me with his male ego. I told him as much, but he didn’t respond. That’s another bad habit of his. He’s hard to argue with. He clams up and says nothing. I suspect the only way we’re going to get him to go to New York or LA is if he decides to go on his own. And chances are he won’t tell us if he goes. He’ll just vanish one day. That’s the way he is.”

“Does he disappear often?”

“Not too often, not now. But before he got these gigs, he could take off for a week without warning. And before you ask, no, I don’t think he’s seeing someone else.”

“I’m glad you have that faith in him.”

“It’s not his style to cheat. He despises hypocrites.”

“Do his quirks frustrate you?”

She sighed. “Yeah. But I try to stay focused on my own goals.”

“What’s your main goal now? To get into medical school?”

Teri hesitated. “That’s on my list, but it’s not at the top.”

“You were serious the other day when you said you wanted to compete in the Olympics.”

“Yes.” She paused. “You said you’ve seen me run before.”

“I’ve seen two of your races. When Truman competed against Chapel Hill and Ohio State. You ran the 5K against Chapel and the fifteen-hundred-meter against Ohio. You won both races—I was impressed.”

“Thanks. I don’t know how much you know about track. The season’s almost over, and the NCAA finals are about to start. The woman I beat at Ohio, Frances McCormick, won the NCAA championship last year in the metric mile. That’s another name for the fifteen-hundred-meter race.”

“Wasn’t Frances on the U.S. Olympic team four years ago?”

“Wow. You have an amazing memory.”

“I told you, I remember everything. But you’re not just interested in competing in the Olympics. You want to win a gold medal.”

She blushed. “It’s a dream, I know, a crazy dream. I’m not in the same league as the Africans. No one is. The trials are only two weeks after the NCAA finals. I’ve been training like mad. I spend more time at the track than I do in class or with Matt.”

“Is he supportive?”

“He acts a hundred percent supportive. But I think he resents the time commitment. And now that I’m working for you, I’ll probably see him even less.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this dream the other day?”

“The day we met, you saw Matt play, and I’d be the first person to admit his talent is a lot more interesting than my ability to run around a track.”

“Don’t diminish your gift. I love track and field. There’s no sport more primal than a race. At the dawn of civilization, I’m sure cavemen used to boast to one another, ‘I bet I can run faster than you.’ Or, ‘I know I can run farther than you.’ You laugh, but it’s true. The first sport on earth was racing. That’s why the Olympics never get old. And that’s why I admire your desire to compete at the highest level.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to me to have your support.”

“You mean my money.”

“No! I mean—”

“I know what you mean, Teri. Relax, I was just teasing.”

“Well, frankly, your money helps. If I went back home, I’d be forced to work full-time and I wouldn’t be able to train as much. But if I can stay here, when classes get out I’ll have all the time I need to work on the track.”

“You said before your coach wants you to train on the track. But you don’t like it.”

“Coach Tranton insists on the interval training. But he’s a genius when it comes to developing runners. It’s one of the reasons I decided on Truman. It’s a small college, but every year we compete for the NCAA championship. He’s an expert on the mile. My time keeps dropping. It’s all because of him.”

“I envy you, Teri. You know exactly what you want. Now all you have to do is go get it.”

She laughed. “And beat out a hundred other women who will be competing for the three spots on the Olympic team.”

“My intuition is almost as good as my memory. I have a sneaking suspicion you’re going to make it.”

That made her smile. Teri has such a lovely smile.

But I don’t know why I told her that.

It wasn’t like I was going to give her a pint of my blood.

No way. It was out of the question.

However, I did want her to make the team. . . .

The next day Matt stopped by. He used the excuse that he was looking for Teri, but we both knew how feeble it was. He wanted to see me, and of course I wanted to see him. He’s such a pleasure to look at. He came from the gym, dressed in shorts, Nikes, and a sleeveless sweatshirt. He smelled of sweat, but to me it was a great smell. I offered him a bottle of beer and he took three. He said he was thirsty after his workout.

“And you like to drink,” I said as we settled in my living room. He sat on the couch beside me. Our feet were inches apart.

“Did Teri tell you that?”

“I saw you at the club last Friday, remember?”

“Did I drink much that night? I don’t remember.”

“Six Scotch and Cokes, before the second show.”

“I must have been drunk then.”

“Liar. I don’t think you can get drunk.” It was true what I said. He seemed like one of those rare people who can function with a large amount of alcohol in their system. Nevertheless, I knew I could drink him under the table.

“I notice you kept up,” he said.

“I was just being sociable. What brings you here this evening?”

“I told you, I was looking for Teri.”

“Uh-huh. Now tell me the real reason.”

He smiled. “You never give a guy a break, do you?”

“Not guys like you. You don’t need them.”

“That sounds like a backhanded compliment.”

“It’s a plain insult. Why are you here?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to talk, get to know you better. It’s hard for me to loosen up sometimes when Teri’s around. As I’m sure you’ve already guessed, she’s more proper than I am.”

“She’s a sweetheart.”

He stares at me and nods. “She’s also innocent. She has an IQ through the ceiling, and it sometimes hides the fact she’s only a year out of high school.”

“Are you worried I’m going to take advantage of her?”

“That’s not your style. I can see that already.”

“Then what’s bothering you?”

“You. You’re the mystery woman.”

“Don’t tell me I inspired that song you sang the other day.”

“Maybe. Let’s be blunt, Alisa. You’re clever at getting people to talk about themselves, but you don’t volunteer much about yourself. You know, we have no idea where you were born, where you went to school, who your friends are.”

“Do you really give a damn about that stuff?”

He holds my eye a moment longer before smiling. “I guess not. Shit like that doesn’t tell you who a person is. Still, my point is valid. You’ve burst into our lives in a big way. But who are you?” He reached out and touched my bare foot. “Tell me who you are, Alisa.”

“Careful. Touch them and you have to rub them.”

He didn’t hesitate. He pulled my feet into his lap and started massaging them. “Talk,” he said.

“Or you’ll pull out my toenails?”

“Something like that.”

I took a slug of my beer. “My past is complicated. I don’t like talking about it because I can give people the wrong impression. Let’s just say I’m not the person I used to be.”

“Do you have a criminal record?”

“Maybe. Do you?”

“No. Where were you born?”

“I thought that didn’t matter to you.”

“I changed my mind.”

“India. In the north.”

“You don’t look Indian.”

“I’m one of the original Aryans.”

“How did you get so much money?”

“How do you think?”

“I figure you must have inherited it.”

“Not true. I’m a great saver, and I know how to invest.”

“Do you play the market?”

“I love to play . . . it.”

My remark might have been suggestive, I don’t know. He pulled me closer and began to massage my calves. He had such strong hands and his touch was . . . well, it was ridiculously sensual. I felt myself getting aroused, and I would have had to be blind not to know he was excited. I swore I wouldn’t kiss him. I knew if I did I wouldn’t stop. Still, he kept rubbing me higher, harder, and deeper.

“You like this?” he asked.

“Stupid question.”

“You know, I’ve never cheated on Teri.”

“I believe you.”

“But you’re thinking there’s a first time for everything.”

“I didn’t ask you to massage my feet.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I didn’t ask you to massage my legs.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

I leaned back. “Maybe you should.”

He leaned closer. He kissed me on the cheek, or else I averted my lips, I wasn’t sure. He spoke in my ear. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a phantom. I’ll be here for a while and then I’ll disappear. You don’t have to worry. I won’t hurt Teri.”

He sat back and stared deep into my eyes. “I think that’s the first time you’ve lied to me.”

I wanted to argue with him. I couldn’t.

Looking back, I realize Matt is obsessed with protecting Teri. He is attracted to me. His flirting is genuine. Yet he uses it for a deeper goal. To pry the truth out of me. And he’s good at it. He got me to reveal something I had no intention of revealing, and as a result he now knows I’m dangerous.

I wonder if he will warn Teri to stay away.

I suppose I couldn’t blame him.

I call Lisa Fetch last, at nine in the morning, and with Brutran still hard at work at her desk. I don’t worry my call can be tapped. I have a device on my cell that makes it 100 percent secure. Claire, my FBI friend, gave it to me.

Lisa sounds tired, and I doubt she got much sleep. I feel bad about having turned her life upside down, but I can’t think of another way to keep her safe.

“I still haven’t located Jeff,” she says.

“Did you call his house?”

“What do you think?”

“I think that might be a bad idea.”

“Look, Alisa Perne, or whatever your real name is, he may be dead to you, but I still have hope.”

“You have to take my advice seriously. Hope can be a good thing in many situations, but you have to admit it’s a bad sign he hasn’t left a message on your home voice mail, which I’m sure you’ve checked a hundred times.”

She’s tired and she’s hurting. It’s all there in her voice.

“You don’t have to keep rubbing it in,” she says.

“Okay. Let me ask you a question. How often does Ms. Brutran work around the clock at her desk?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sitting outside your building. I’ve been here all night and she’s never gone home.”

“That’s weird.”

“I take it this is weird even for her?”

“As far as I know. When the day is done, she usually goes home with the rest of us. At least as far as I could tell. I didn’t keep close track of her schedule.”

It is as I fear. Ms. Brutran is staying at work because of me.

“I’ll give her another night, see what she does,” I say.

“What are you going to do? Kidnap her the way you kidnapped me?”

“There’s no use whining, Lisa. I gave you plenty of cash. You can go home if you like. But I wouldn’t want to bet on your odds of being alive next week.”

Lisa’s tone softens. “I do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. It’s just hard, you know, to be here all alone, not knowing what’s going on. Without Jeff.”

“I understand. I promise to call you tonight and give you an update. But for now, try not to use the phone to call anyone other than me. Okay?”

“I hear ya,” Lisa says.

We exchange good-byes and I stretch out and wait.