There was a pause, then he heard both voices on the phone.

'Okay, Matty? What the hell is it?'

The lawyer's tones had taken over, irritated, imperious. Before he could answer, the man added, 'Oh, Christ, there's the baby waking up. Shit.'

Matthew Cowart wished he'd rehearsed a speech. 'I think Becky's in danger,' he said.

The phone line was quiet for a moment, then both people responded.

'What danger? Matty, what are you talking about?' It was his ex-wife.

'The man I wrote about. The one on Death Row. He threatened Becky. He knows where you live.'

Another pause before Tom responded, 'But why? You wrote he didn't kill anyone…'

1 might have been wrong.'

'But why Becky?'

'He doesn't want me to write anything different.'

'Now look, Matt, what did this man say, exactly? Let's get this straight. What sort of threat?'

I don't know. Look, it's not that, I don't know, it's all…' He realized the impossibility of what he was saying.

'Matt, Christ. You call in the middle of the damn night and…'

The lawyer was interrupted by his wife. 'Matty, is this serious? Is this for real?'

'Sandy, I wish I could tell you what was real and what isn't. All I know is this man is dangerous and I no longer know where he is and so I had to do something, and I called you.'

'But Matt,' the lawyer interjected. 'We need to know some details. I need to have some appreciation of what the hell this all means.'

Matthew Cowart felt a sudden rage slide within him.

'No, you goddamn don't. You don't need to know a goddamn thing except Becky may be in danger. That there's one goddamn dangerous man out there and that he knows where you live and he wants to be able to strike at me through Becky. Got that? Got it good? That's all you need to know. No, Sandy, pack a damn bag and take Becky someplace. Someplace neutral. Like up to Michigan to see your aunt. Do it right away. First flight in the morning. Just go until I get this straightened out. I will get it straightened out, I promise you. But I can't do that unless I know Becky's safe and out of danger and someplace where this man can't get to her. Just go now. Do you understand? It's not worth the risk.'

There was another momentary pause, then his ex-wife replied, 'All right.'

Her husband immediately interjected. 'Sandy! Jesus, we don't know…'

'We'll know soon enough,' she said. 'Matty, will you call me? Will you please call Tom and explain this? As soon as you can?'

'I will.'

'Jesus,' said the new husband. Then he added, 'Matty, I hope this isn't some crazy… ' He stopped, hesitated, then said, 'Actually, I hope it is. I hope it is all crazy.' And when you call me with your goddamn explanation, it's a good one. I don't understand why I just don't call the police, or maybe hire a private investigator…'

'Because the damn police can't do anything about a threat! They can't do anything until something happens! She won't be safe, even if you hire the goddamn National Guard to watch over her. You've just got to get her someplace where this guy can't reach her.'

'What about Becky?' his ex-wife said. 'This is going to scare the hell out of her.'

I know,' Cowart replied. Despair and impotence seemed to curl about him like smoke. 'But the alternatives are a whole lot worse.'

This man… ' the lawyer started.

"The man is a killer,' Co wart said between clenched teeth.

The lawyer paused, then sighed. 'Okay. They'll take the first flight out. All right? I'm gonna stay here. The guy didn't threaten me, did he?'

'No.'

'Well. Good.'

Another silence crept onto the line, before Cowart added, 'Sandy?'

'Yes, Matt?'

'Don't hang up the telephone and think all of a sudden that this is silly and you don't have to do anything,' he said, his voice steady, low, and even. 'Leave right away. Keep Becky safe. I can't do anything unless I know she's safe. You promise me?'

'I understand.'

'Promise?'

'Yes.'

'Thank you,' he said. He felt relief and tension battling within him. 'I'll call you with details when I have them.' Sandy's new husband grunted in assent. Cowart put the telephone down gingerly, as if it were fragile, and leaned back on the motel bed. He felt better and awful at the same time.

When Brown and Shaeffer returned to the motel room, discouragement seemed to ride their shoulders, perched on top of exhaustion. Cowart asked, 'Did you get anywhere?' Shaeffer answered for them both. The local cops seem to think we're crazy. And, if not crazy, then incompetent. But mostly, I think, they don't really want to be bothered. Might have been different if they could see something in it for them. But they don't.' Cowart nodded. 'Where does that leave us?' Brown replied softly, 'Chasing a man guilty of something, suspected of everything, with evidence of nothing.' He laughed softly. 'Jesus, listen to me. Should have been a writer like you, Cowart.'

Shaeffer rubbed her hands across her face slowly, finally pushing her hair back tightly from her forehead, pulling the skin taut as she did so, as if this would clear her vision.

'How many?' she asked, turning toward the two men. 'There's the first one, the one you wrote about…'

Both men were silent, guarding their fears.

'How many?' she demanded again. 'What is it? You think something bad will happen if you share information? What could be worse than what we've got?'

'Joanie Shriver,' Cowart replied. 'She's the first. First we know about. Then there's a twelve-year-old girl down in Perrine who disappeared

'Perrine?' Shaeffer said. 'No wonder he…'

'No wonder what?' Cowart demanded.

It was his first question for me. When I went to see him. He wanted to be certain that it was a Monroe County case I was investigating. He was quite concerned over where the border between Dade and Monroe counties is. And once he was certain, he relaxed.'

'Damn, Cowart whispered.

'We don't know anything for certain about her, Brown interjected. 'It's really speculation…'

Cowart rose, shaking his head. He went over to his suit coat and extricated the computer printouts that he had been ferrying about. He handed them to Brown, who swiftly read them.

'What are those?' Shaeffer asked.

'Nothing, Brown replied, frustration creeping into his voice. He crumpled the pages together, then handed them back. 'So he was there?'

'He was there.'

'But there's still nothing against him.'

'No body, you mean. Though, judging from what she said, I suspect that girl's body is somewhere in the Everglades, close to the county line.'

'Right.' Cowart turned to Shaeffer. 'See, that's two.

Two so far…'

'Three, Brown added quietly. 'A little girl in Eatonville. Disappeared a few months back.'

Cowart stared hard at the policeman. 'You didn't…' he started.

Brown shrugged.

Cowart, hands quivering with anger, picked up his notepad. 'He was in Eatonville about six months ago. At the Christ Our Savior Presbyterian Church. Gave his speech about Jesus. Is that when…'

'No, sometime later.'

'Damn,' Cowart said again.

'He went back. He must have gone back when he knew no one would be looking.'

'Sure he did. But how do you prove it?'

'I'll prove it.'

'Great. Why didn't you tell me?' Cowart's voice cracked with rage.

Brown replied with equal fury. 'Tell you? So you can do what? So you can put it in the damn paper before I've got a chance to get somewhere on the case? Before I've had a chance to check every small black town in Florida? You want me to tell you so you can tell the world and save your reputation?'

'Get somewhere! How many people are going to die while you put together a case? If you can put together a case!'

'And what the hell will be accomplished by putting it in the newspaper?'