"Really." Ellen peered through the window, where the kids and their teachers looked tres contents. But there was no Carol.

"We believe that language skills should be taught early, and they take to it like ducks to water. I'll give you our literature on our postgraduate placement rates. We're a feeder for all the best private schools."

"Let's see the five-year-olds."

"What is it you do, did you say?" Janice asked, but Ellen walked ahead and peeked into the classroom full of five-year-olds in little chairs, books open in their laps. No Carol.

"Which language are they learning?" she asked, to avoid the question.

"Reading skills. We drill and drill."

Sir, yes, sir. "Good for you." Ellen straightened up. "And the media center?"

"This way." Janice led her down the hall to a double door. "This is one of the special enrichment events we have each day, for after-care. Monday is story time and on Tuesday we do science."

Ellen tuned her out when she saw what was going on inside. A group of children sat in a semicircle, laughing and pointing while a teacher in a Mother Goose costume read to them. But a telltale pink pom-pom stuck from beneath the hem of her hoop skirt. It wasn't a teacher in the Mother Goose getup. It was Carol Braverman.

Janice said, "Here, you see story time, where we perform stories for the children."

"And the teachers do this?"

"No, she's not a teacher. She's one of our moms, who used to be an actress."

"An actress?"

"Yes. Her name is Carol Braverman, and she worked at Disney World. She was Snow White."

Of course she was. "Is her child in the class?"

"No, Carol just comes to read to the children." Janice paused. "She doesn't have a child in the class."

Ellen couldn't ask a follow-up without blowing her cover. "That's very nice of her, to do that. I guess you pay her very well."

"Oh, she won't take a dime for it. Carol does it because she loves children. Come with me." Janice took Ellen by the elbow and led her back up the hall. "It's actually a terrible tragedy. Carol's little boy, Timothy, was kidnapped a couple of years ago and they never got him back. That first year, she was a mess. Depressed, in hell. But she pulled herself together and decided that it actually helps her healing process to be around children."

Ellen felt a wave of guilt. "How can she do that? I would find that so painful."

"I agree with you, but do you want to know what she said to me, when I asked her that very question?"

No. "Yes."

"She said, If I'm around children, at least I get to experience what it would be like if Timothy were still with me. I don't miss out on everything this way, and when I get him back, I'll be right up to speed."

Ellen felt like crying. She didn't want to know this, any of it. She couldn't believe she was doing this to another woman. She wished she'd never come.

"I know, right? It's so sad."

"Think she'll get him back?"

"I'm sure the chances are low, but we're all pulling for her. If anybody deserves it, Carol does." They reached the office, and Janice brightened. "If you'll come in with me, I'll give you that literature I mentioned."

Ellen followed her inside the office, but her thoughts had skipped ahead.

She didn't know if she had the heart to stalk Carol to her next stop.

Much less to get the proof she didn't want in the first place.

Chapter Forty-nine

The late-day sun was even hotter, and Ellen was trailing Carol back through the luxurious suburbs when her BlackBerry started ringing. She plucked it from her purse and glanced at the display, which showed the newspaper's main telephone number.

Marcelo!

"Hello?" she said, picking up, but it wasn't him, it was Sarah.

"Marcelo told us you're taking a few days off. Listen, I won't keep you, but I wanted to apologize."

"That's okay," Ellen said, surprised. Sarah sounded genuinely contrite.

"I'm sorry I got so hyper about the story. When you fainted, I felt awful."

"Thanks. It's just this bug, I feel dizzy."

"Okay, so, we cool?"

"Sure." Ellen took a right turn, keeping up with Carol in rush-hour traffic. They were driving back through the congested part of the city, but she switched lanes, staying with Carol.

"I assume you heard, we got bumped for the Yerkes fire." Sarah snorted. "One man's ceiling is another man's floor."

"Listen, I gotta go back to bed."

"Feel better. Take care."

"Thanks. See you." Ellen hung up and accelerated to make a green light as they wound left and right through traffic and finally traveled over the causeway to Surfside Lane.

Carol turned right onto Surfside, and Ellen drove down the main drag and took a U-turn, coming back to park in her position across the street, so that she could see if Carol went out again. She lowered the windows and twisted off the ignition, craning her neck to see down Surfside. If she tilted her head, she had a partial view of the Bravermans' house and driveway. More people were walking on Coral Ridge than before, but no one seemed to notice her. A man who looked like a model jogged past, and behind him, two Rollerbladers skated toward the causeway, their thighs pumping away.

Ring Ring! Ellen reached for her BlackBerry, checking the screen. HOME. It had to be Connie. "Hey, Con, how's it going?"

"Another day, another macaroni picture."

"Art you can eat, right?" Ellen smiled. Her thoughts traveled back to her snug little house though her gaze remained on the Bravermans'.

"I don't know if this matters, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. I think somebody just called here. Her name was Sarah. Is that someone from the newspaper or a story?"

"The paper." Ellen tensed. "When was this?"

"About half an hour ago. Will answered the phone and told her that you weren't home."

"What?"

"I'm sorry. He got to the phone before I did. He thought it might be you. He talked to her and hung up. I heard him say Sarah. I didn't even get to talk to her."

"Will said I wasn't there?" Ellen couldn't process it fast enough. "Tell me exactly what he said."

"He told her you went on the airplane for work."

"Oh no!" It was exactly what Ellen had told him yesterday. She rubbed her forehead and came away with flop sweat. "This isn't good, Connie."

"Why doesn't she know what you're doing for work, anyway?"

The proverbial tangled web. "My editor wanted to keep it on the QT We generally share our assignments, but Sarah is getting a little competitive lately, between you and me."

"Oh. Oops."

Ellen was trying to figure what to do. Sarah had caught her in a lie, then called her to confirm it. It was great journalistic technique, and it would get her fired for sure.

"Will wants to talk to you, okay?"

"Of course." Ellen could hear Will calling for her, so close he was probably reaching for the phone.

"Mommy, Mommy! When are you coming home?"

"Soon, sweetie." Ellen felt a pang at the sound of his voice, even as she slumped in the driver's seat, keeping an eye on the Bravermans' house. "Tell me about your macaroni picture."

"Come home soon. I have to go."

"Love you," Ellen called after him, and Connie got back on the line.

"We're about to have dinner. So how bad is it?"

"Don't worry. Just don't let him tell any more state secrets, okay?"

"Gotcha. Sorry."

"See you soon." Ellen hung up and called Marcelo for damage control, waiting nervously for the call to connect. Another runner darted by on the sidewalk, glancing back at her. His shoulder cap bore a MOM tattoo, but she was pretty sure it was a coincidence.

"How are you?" Marcelo asked, his voice unusually cool, which took Ellen aback.

"Long story short, Sarah called my house and Will told her that I went away on business."