hooked the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the doorknob.
In the lobby, she got five dollars' worth of quarters from Max and walked to a pay phone down the street. She dialed information.
“United States Marshals Service. How may I direct your call?” The young woman's voice was pleasant and very Southern.
“I'd like to speak to Deputy Winter Massey.”
“I'm sorry, he's not in the office. Would you care to speak to another deputy or leave a message on his voice mail?”
Sean listened to Winter's recorded voice and hung up before the tone sounded. She dialed information again and asked the operator for the listing in Charlotte for Winter Massey.
“Sorry, no Winter Massey in Charlotte.”
Of course he wouldn't have the phone in his name. She had an idea how he might list it. “Do you have a listing for Lydia or a Rush Massey?”
After checking, the operator told her, “I show a Lydia Massey in Concord, North Carolina. Same area code.”
Sean didn't have anything to write with and she fought to remember the number as she pulled out her computer and opened it. She repeated the number until the computer booted up, and she typed it under a folder icon on her desktop, changing the file's name from “Misc,” to “7045529988.”
Staring down at the number, Sean felt suddenly insecure. She wanted to decide exactly what she would say to him. Would she ask for his help? How could she do that without putting him in danger? How much could she tell him? How many lies would she need to tell? She just needed to talk to him; maybe then, she would feel anchored again.
Nervously, she dialed the number, then dropped in the required number of coins. The voice that answered brought a rush of relief to her. She realized she was holding her breath.
“Winter?”
“Sean? Is it you?”
64
Concord, North Carolina
When the phone rang, Winter was in his bedroom with the door closed, going over his conversation with Reed in his mind.
“Hello?”
“Winter?”
The sound of Sean's voice filled him with relief. “Sean, is it you?”
“It's me.”
“A lot of people are worried about you,” he told Sean.
“I figured my sudden departure might raise some eyebrows.”
“Are you all right?”
“I'm perfectly fine. After you left, I tired of the company.”
“Do you have money?”
“Enough.”
“Why are you running?”
“I'm moving around at the moment to make sure when I stop I'll be out of danger.”
“I was afraid you might have been kidnapped.”
“No, I wasn't kidnapped. I just wanted to let you know that so you wouldn't worry. You can tell your chief marshal I am fine, and even though he lied to me, I forgive him.”
“Lied how?”
“I've been watching the news and I can't help but notice they are playing fast and loose with the facts.”
“You don't know the half of it.”
“It's nice hearing your voice, Massey. I mean that. I'd love to chat, but I have to make a plane.”
“Will you stay in touch?” He suppressed the urge to add please.
“I can't call back for a while.”
“Why not?”
“You're kidding, right? Ever heard of traces? The marshals can't protect me. Look, I'll get in touch from time to time, if you don't mind.”
“I'd like that a lot. You just promise that if you ever need my help, you'll call me?”
“So long, Massey.”
The line went dead. Winter's heart sank, wishing there had been some way to prolong their conversation. He knew he had to help her. He dialed Hank's cell phone.
“Yeah?”
“You aren't working late again, are you?” Winter asked him.
“Yeah,” Hank answered. “Sun to sun, son.”
“Sean Devlin just called. She wants Shapiro to know she's all right. She said she knows he lied to her, but she forgives him.”
“Lied about what?”
“Didn't say. Can you handle that?”
“I'll tell him. He might want to talk to you. The attorney general has set a press conference for Thursday morning. It won't be a secret after that, and you can get on with your life.”
“Thursday,” Winter said.
“If you need to talk, I'm here. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, Hank. I do. Thanks.”
Winter hung up. He felt sick and, except for once three years before, more helpless than ever.
65
New York, New York
Herman Hoffman read the note that had been placed on the table beside his Wedgwood plate, “I'll let you know what my orders are in a little while,” he said to the man who had delivered it.
“Yes, sir.”
“I need those call transcripts ASAP.”
The man vanished.
Herman cut a slice from the veal medallion and chewed it, keeping his eyes on the plate. He lifted the wineglass and sipped. He patted his lips with the edge of the linen napkin, then pushed the note to Ralph and watched as he read it.
“We have her located. What now?” Ralph asked, looking up.
“I'm considering what the appropriate response should be. Eat.”
Ralph cut a chunk of sirloin.
“Mrs. Devlin was at a pay phone in Richmond, Virginia thirty-three minutes ago. Richmond is a very big town to cover without assistance. With a transcript of the call, it might be possible to know if she is in a car passing through and picked out the phone at random, or is staying nearby and had no other access to a telephone. Or maybe she has access but knows better than to use a phone within close proximity of her hide.” Herman speared a red potato and, holding it up, examined it as though seeking some imperfection on its skin.
Ralph didn't interrupt, just listened and chewed.
“She escaped a marshal surveillance team,” Herman mused. “The woman vanished into thin air with the
