"Let's get out of here," she said.
"We just got here." He strolled from the front living room to the study at the rear, into the bedroom, and back again. "The man lives like a monk—a neatnik monk with vows of cleanliness and orderliness."
"Nothing un-Prime about that," Lisl said.
"Yes, there is. It shows an obsessive-compulsive personality. A Prime would be able to overcome it."
"Maybe he's a damaged Prime, like me."
Rafe gave her a long look. "Maybe. But I'll reserve judgment until after we've made our search."
"All right, but let's hurry. I don't want him coming back and finding us here."
"He won't. But be careful to put everything back just the way you found it. And let me know when you come across anything that looks like a bank book. We both have a pretty good idea what Darnell is paying him and we know he can live better than this. Where's his money going?" His grin became wolfish. "Maybe somebody's blackmailing him."
Lisl opened the refrigerator. It was pitiful inside. Nonfat yogurt, orange juice, fruit, corn oil margarine, some lettuce, a red pepper, and some low-fat Swiss cheese.
Rafe glanced in over her shoulder.
"He eats like you do."
"Maybe he's a health nut—or he's got a cholesterol problem."
But Rafe had already wandered over to Ev's computer terminal.
"My, my," he said, flipping through a notebook on the desk. "Here are all his access codes for his files in memory. Dear Ev believes in security."
They began going through the drawers. There weren't many in the apartment, so it wasn't long before Rafe came across Ev's financial records. He shook his head and whistled as he paged through them.
"Rent, utilities, and food… rent, utilities, and food… that's all he uses his money for. The rest is all in CDs and zero-coupon bonds in IRAs and Keoghs. He's loaded."
Lisl couldn't repress a smile of satisfaction.
"There. I told you. He's a Prime. He'll be able to retire in another ten years."
"We're missing something," Rafe said.
"Like what?" She was getting annoyed now. "What could we be missing? There are no drugs or alcohol here, not so much as a bottle of sherry, no gay magazines, no child porn, no notes from a blackmailer. Give it up, Rafe. The man's clean. And he's a Prime."
"We still don't know where he is tonight, or every other Wednesday night for that matter. Once we know that, I'll rest my case… or bow to yours."
"How are we supposed to find that out?"
"Simple. Next Wednesday night we'll follow him."
Games… Rafe loved games. But at least following Ev wasn't illegal—not like snooping through his apartment.
"All right. We'll do that. But let's get out of here. Back to my place." A fiery desire was growing within her. "I know something we can do that's a lot more fun. And legal too."
They made sure everything was just as they had found it, then they hurried back to Rafe's car. Lisl took the lead on the way out.
Bill edged his old Impala out of the parking lot and into the flow along Conway Street. Traffic was light and he was in no hurry. He'd just seen Who Framed Roger Rabbit? for the third time and he was in a great mood. Each time he found something new to marvel at. He'd tried watching it at home once on a rented cassette but it wasn't the same. When he'd read that The Strand was running a big-screen revival, he'd jumped at the chance for another look.
As he pulled to a stop at a light, he noticed a familiar-looking sports car to his right on the side street, waiting to make a left turn. A Maserati. In the bright, diffused peach glow of the mercury vapor lamps that lined Conway, Bill recognized Rafe Losmara at the wheel, speaking animatedly to someone next to him. Once again Bill was struck by the feeling that they'd met before. Something tantalizingly familiar about his face.
He wondered who Rafe was with. He almost hoped it wasn't Lisl. He didn't want to see her hurt but he was convinced that Rafe was no good for her, that his twisted values were behind the appalling deterioration in Lisl's character.
Maybe Rafe was out with somebody else tonight. If so, perhaps Bill could find a way to use that as a wedge between Lisl and him. All the standard objections rolled through his mind—It's none of your business, she's a big girl, a grown woman, you're not her father, not even her uncle, and even if you were, she has a right to choose her lovers and her values—and he let them roll right out again. All valid, but his feelings for Lisl overruled them. Lisl was heading for a fall—Bill knew it as sure as he knew his real name—and he wanted to catch her before she did. Because she might not come back from this crash. And if Bill couldn't save the one friend he had left in the world, he might not come back, either.
As the Maserati made the turn and swung around the front of Bill's car, he recognized Lisl in the passenger seat. He cursed in disappointment and shot one last glance at Rafe.
A wordless cry escaped Bill as the street seemed to tilt under his car. Close up, in the strange mercury glow that gelled the air, Rafe's mustache seemed to fade away, and his face… it looked… just like…
Sara!
And then he was past, gone, out of sight, his car a receding blob of red. But the vision remained, floating before Bill's eyes.
Sara!
Why hadn't he seen it before? The resemblance was unmistakable. He could be her brother!
What if he was her brother?
But how could that be? And why would he be here? What possible purpose—?
Lisl! Was he going to hurt Lisl like his sister had hurt Danny?
The blare of a horn from behind startled Bill and he looked up. The light was green. His slick palms slipped on the wheel as he pulled over to the curb and shut off the engine.
He sat behind the wheel, trembling, sweating, trying to get a grip as the wild thoughts raced through his head.
Wait. Stop. This was crazy.
Rafe had looked like Sara for an instant. So what? That was scary, but he wasn't Sara, and the odds of someone related to Sara showing up as a graduate student at the same university where Bill was working under an assumed identity were astronomical.
And yet…
Bill couldn't shake the feeling that a veil had parted for an instant and allowed him a peek at a deadly secret. He couldn't ignore it. He had to follow it up. Now. But he couldn't do it himself. He couldn't raise his profile. He needed help. But who? How? He searched for a way, a name. And he knew: Nick.
He scooped the pile of change out of his ashtray and started the car. He drove until he saw a phone booth, stopped, jumped out, and lifted the receiver.
The sweat was pouring out of him now.
Just once… just this once, let me get a dial tone.
There was dead air, then a click. The operator? His heart was pounding. A minute… that was all he needed. Just a minute of conversation, even if it was with Nick's answering machine.
"Hello? Hello?"
And then came the voice, the awful, too-familiar child's voice.
"Father, please come and get me! Pleee—!"
With a groan, Bill slammed the receiver down and ran for his car. Behind him the pay phone began to ring… continuously. He could still hear it echoing in his mind over the sound of his roaring engine as he gunned out of earshot.
He headed for home and along the way he searched his memory for everything Lisl had ever told him about Rafe Losmara. He had it all arranged in his mind by the time he reached his computer. He accessed the DataNet network and found the bulletin board. He typed out a message to Nick.