Dark Rivers of the Heart

those computers, very deep, very subtle. Each time anyone goes into my DMV or military files without using a little code I implanted, the system adds one asterisk to the end of the last sentence in the file. The idea was that I'd check once or twice a week, and if I saw asterisks, saw that someone was investigating me… well, then maybe it would be time to walk away from the cabin in Malibu and just move on." move on where"
        "Anywhere. Just move on and keep moving."
        "Paranoid," she said.
        "Damned paranoid."
        She laughed quietly. So did he. that the way the world's changing, everybody's going to have somebody looking for him sooner or later. And most people, most of the time, are going to wish they hadn't been findable."
        Ellie checked her wristwatch. "Maybe we should take a look at that map now."
        "They have a slew of maps up front," he said.
        She watched him walk forward to the cockpit door. His shoulders were slumped. He moved with evident weariness, and he still appeared to be somewhat stiff from his days of immobility.
        Suddenly Ellie was chilled by a feeling that Spencer Grant was not going to make it through this with her, that he was going to die somewhere in the night ahead. The foreboding was perhaps not strong enough to be called an explicit premonition, but it was more powerful than a mere hunch.
        The possibility of losing him left her half sick with dread. She knew then that she cared for him even more than she had been able to admit.
        When he returned with the map, he said, "What's wrong?"
        "Nothing. Why?"
        "You look like you've seen a ghost."
        "Just tired," she lied.
        "And starved."
        "I can do something about the starved part."
        As he sat in the seat across the aisle again, he produced four candy bars from the pockets of his fleecelined denim jacket.
        "Where'd you get these?"
        "The boys up front have a snack box. They were happy to share.
        They're really a couple of swell guys."
        "Especially with a gun to their heads."
        "Especially then," he agreed.
        Rocky sat up and cocked his good ear with keen interest when he smelled the candy bars.
        "Ours," Spencer said firmly. "When we're out of the air and on the road again, we'll stop and get some real food for you, something healthier than this."
        The dog licked his chops.
        "Look, pal," Spencer said, "I didn't stop in the supermarket to graze on the wreckage, like you did. I need every bite of these, or I'll collapse on my face. Now you just lie down and forget it. Okay?"
        Rocky yawned, looked around with pretended disinterest, and stretched out on the deck again.
        "You two have an incredible rapport," she said.
        "Yeah, we're Siamese twins, separated at birth. You couldn't know that, of course, because he's had a lot of lastic sure " She could not take her eyes off his face. More than weariness was visible in it.
        She could see the certain shadow of death.
        Disconcertingly perceptive and alert to her mood, Spencer said, "What?"
        "Thanks for the candy."
        "It would've been filet mignon if I could've swung it."
        He unfolded the map. They held it between their seats, studying the territory around Grand junction, Colorado.
        Twice she dared to look at him, and each glimpse made her heart race with fear. She could too clearly see the skull beneath the skin, the promise of the grave that was usually so well concealed by the mask of life.
        She felt ignorant, silly, superstitious, like a foolish child.
        There were other explanations besides omens and portents and psychic images of tragedy to come. Perhaps, after the Thanksgiving night when Danny and her parents had been snatched away forever, this fear would plague her every time that she crossed the line between caring for people and loving them.
        Roy landed at Stapleton International Airport in Denver, aboard the Learjet, after twenty-five minutes in a holding pattern. The local office of the agency had assigned two operatives to work with him, as he had requested on the scrambler phone while in flight. Both men-Burt Rink and Oliver Fordyce-were waiting in the parking bay as the Lear taxied into it. They were in their early thirties, tall, clean-shaven.
        They wore black topcoats, dark-blue suits, dark ties, white