“I think,” Hope said slowly, “that’s not really it, Scott.”

He turned toward her. “How so?”

“The issue is, how far are we willing to go?”

This quieted the room.

“Because,” Hope continued, her voice even, but her words reverberating with authority, “we have only the vaguest idea of what Michael O’Connell is willing to do. There are plenty of indications. We know he is capable of just about anything and everything. But what are his limits? Does he even have any? Where will he draw the line? I think it would be unwise for any of us to think that he has any restraints.”

“I wish I’d-” Catherine started, then stopped. “Well,” she said with customary briskness, “Scott knows what I wish I’d done.”

“I suppose,” Sally said, “that now it is time for us to engage the authorities.”

Catherine coldly added, “Well, that’s what the local policeman told me outside my house, after my little get-together with Mr. O’Connell.”

“You don’t sound like you think much of that idea,” Hope said.

“I don’t.” Beneath her breath, Catherine added, “When the hell have ‘the authorities’ ever helped anyone?”

Scott turned to Sally. “Sally, you’re the lawyer. I’m sure that in your professional life, you’ve run into these sorts of problems. What would be involved in the process? What could we expect?”

Sally paused, running through details in her head before speaking.

“Ashley would have to go before a judge. I suppose I could handle the legal work, but it’s always wiser to hire outside counsel. She would have to testify that she was being stalked, that she was in fear for her well-being. She might be required to prove that there was some systematic behavior on O’Connell’s part, but most judges are pretty understanding, and they would be likely to accept what Ashley said without requiring much outside corroboration. They would issue a restraining order that would allow the police to arrest O’Connell if he came within some specified distance-usually it’s one hundred feet to one hundred yards. The judge would also, in all likelihood, order O’Connell to not have any contact with her, either by telephone or by computer. These orders are generally pretty complete and would effectively remove him from Ashley’s life, given one rather large if. ”

“What’s that?” Ashley asked.

“If he complies with the order.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Well, then the police can get involved. Technically, he could be arrested and held in violation of the order. That would put him away for some time. The standard sentence is up to six months. But that’s assuming the judge gives him the maximum. In reality, there’s more give-and-take. Judges are reluctant to put people in jail for what they often imagine is merely a dispute between a couple.”

Sally took a deep breath. “That’s the way it is all supposed to work. The real world is never quite as clear-cut as all that.”

She looked around at the others in the living room. “Ashley makes a complaint and testifies. But what real proof do we have of anything? We don’t know that he cost her her job. We don’t know that he was the one who made all the trouble for us. We don’t know that he broke in here. We can’t prove that he killed Murphy, although maybe he did.”

Sally took a deep breath. The others remained absolutely quiet.

“I have been thinking about this,” she said, “and it’s not an obvious call, by any means. Not in the slightest. I bet Michael O’Connell has experience with restraining orders and has them figured out. In other words, I think O’Connell knows what he can and can’t get away with. But to get something beyond that simple restraining order, to actually get O’Connell accused of a crime, Ashley would be required to prove that he is behind everything that has happened. She would have to be persuasive in a court of law, and under cross-examination. It would also put her within arm’s reach of Michael O’Connell. When you accuse someone of a crime-even of stalking-it creates a secondary intimacy. You are connected to that person in a profound way, even if there is an order keeping him at a distance. She would have to confront him in court, which would, I guess, feed his obsession. He might even enjoy it. But one thing is certain: Ashley and O’Connell would be forever linked. And it also means that Ashley would be looking over her shoulder forever, unless she flees. Goes someplace new. Becomes someone different. And, still, that isn’t a sure thing. If he decided to devote his life to finding her…”

Sally was rolling now, picking up momentum. “But being frightened and proving there is a real foundation for that fear in a court of law are different things. And then, there is a secondary consideration entirely.”

“What’s that?” Scott asked.

“What will he do if Ashley does get the order? Just how angry will he be? How incensed? And what will he do then? Maybe he will want to punish her. Or us. Maybe he will decide that it is time to do something drastic. If I can’t have you, no one will. What do you think that really means?”

They were all quiet, until Ashley said, “I know what it means.”

None of them wanted to ask her what they all understood.

But Ashley spoke out, her voice trembling.

“He means to kill me.”

Immediately Scott blustered and interrupted, “No, no, no, Ashley, you mustn’t say that. We don’t know that, not at all.”

Then he stopped, because he realized how ridiculous each word he spoke had sounded.

For an instant, Scott felt dizzy. It was as if everything that was crazy-that this man might kill Ashley-made sense, and everything that should have made sense was turned upside down. He felt a complete coldness enter him and found himself rising out of his chair.

“If he comes close again…”

This threat seemed as hollow as everything else.

“What?” Ashley suddenly blurted out. “What will you do? Throw history books at him? Lecture him to death?”

“No, I’ll…”

“What? What will you do? And how will you do it? Are you going to watch me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week?”

Sally tried to remain even-keeled. “Ashley,” she said quietly, “don’t get angry-”

“Why not?” she shouted. “Why shouldn’t I get angry? What right does this creep have to ruin my life?”

The answer to that question, of course, was obvious to all of them.

“So what do I have to do?” she said, her voice filled with tears, emotion coloring every word. “I guess I have to leave. Start over. Go someplace far away. Hide out for years and years, until something happens so I can come out? It’s like some great big game of hide-and-seek, huh? Ashley hides and Michael O’Connell seeks. How will I ever know I’m safe?”

“I suppose,” Sally said, still speaking as cautiously as she could manage, “that’s all that we can hope for. Unless…”

“Unless what?” Scott asked.

She was choosing her words carefully. “We can think up some other plan.”

“What do you mean?” Scott demanded abruptly.

Sally spoke slowly, “What I’m saying is that there are two routes here. One is to work within the legal system. It might be inadequate, but it is what we have. It has worked for some people. But not for others. The law can make one person safe, and kill another. The law guarantees nothing.”

Scott leaned forward. “There is an alternative?”

Sally was almost shocked by what she was saying. “The alternative would be working on this problem outside the law.”

“What would that include?” Scott asked.

“I think,” Sally said coldly, “you might not want to ask that question quite yet.”

This reply plunged the room into silence.

Scott spent what he thought was a long time staring at Sally. He had never heard her sound so cold-blooded before.

“Why not,” Catherine blurted out, “just invite the bastard over here for dinner and then shoot him when he walks through the front door? Bang! A mess in the front parlor. I volunteer to clean it up. End of story.”