The Blue Nowhere

sight. She turned back and looked at the tattoo of the palm tree and seabird on his arm. Years ago, he’d told her he wanted to get it removed and she’d seemed to like the idea but he never had. Now he felt he’d disappointed her.
    “How’s Camilla and the kids?”
    “Fine.”
    “Your parents?”
    Exasperated, Elana asked, “What do you want, Wyatt?”
    “I brought you this.”
    He handed her the circuit board and explained what it was.
    “Why’re you giving it to me?”
    “It’s worth a lot of money.” He gave her a technical specification sheet for the device that he’d written out on the bus ride from the Goodwill store. “Find yourself a Sand Hill Road lawyer and sell it to one of the big companies. Compaq, Apple, Sun. They’ll want to license it and that’s okay but make sure they pay you a big advance up front. Nonreturnable. Not just royalties. The lawyer’ll know all about it.”
    “I don’t want it.”
    “It’s not a present. I’m just repaying you. You lost the house and your savings because of me. You should make enough to recover that.”
    She looked down at the board but didn’t take it from his outstretched hand. “I should go.”
    “Wait,” he said. There was more he’d wanted to say, so much more. He’d rehearsed his speech in prison for days, trying to figure out the best way to present his arguments.
    Her strong fingers—tipped in faint purple polish—now kneaded the wet porch banister. She looked out over the rainy yard.
    He stared at her, studying her hands, her hair, her chin, her feet.
    Don’t say it, he told himself. Do. Not. Say. It.
    But say it he did. “I love you.”
    “No,” she responded sternly and held up a hand as if to deflect the words.
    “I want to try again.”
    “It’s too late for that, Wyatt.”
    “I was wrong. What I did won’t ever happen again.”
    “Too late,” she repeated.
    “I got carried away. I wasn’t there for you. But I will be. I promise. You wanted children. Well, we can have children.”
    “You have your machines. Why do you need children?”
    “I’ve changed.”
    “You’ve been in jail. You haven’t had a chance to prove to anybody—yourself included—that you can change.”
    “I want to have a family with you.”
    She walked to the door, opened the screen. “I wanted that too. And look what happened.”
    He blurted, “Don’t move to New York.”
    Elana froze. She turned. “New York?”
    “You’re moving to New York. With your friend Ed.”
    “How do you know about Ed?”
    Out of control now, he asked, “Are you going to marry him?”
    “How do you know about him?” she repeated. “How do you know about New York?”
    “Don’t do it, Elana. Stay here. Give me a—”
    “How?” she snapped.
    Gillette looked down at the porch, at the spattering of rain on the gray deck paint. “I cracked your online account and read your e-mail.”
    “You what? ” She let the screen door swing shut. Luxurious Greek temper flooded into her beautiful face.
    There was no going back now. Gillette blurted, “Do you love Ed? Are you going to marry him?”
    “Christ, I don’t believe you! From prison? You hacked into my e-mail from prison?”
    “Do you love him?”
    “Ed’s none of your goddamn business. You had every chance in the world to have a family with me and you chose not to. You have absolutely no right to say a word about my personal life!”
    “Please—”
    “No! Well, Ed and I are going to New York. And we leave in threedays. And there’s not a single goddamn thing in the world you can do to stop me. Goodbye, Wyatt. Don’t bother me again.”
    “I love—”
    “You don’t love anyone,” she interrupted. “You social engineer them.”
    She walked inside, closing the door quietly.
    He walked down the steps to Bishop.
    Gillette asked, “What’s the phone number at CCU?”
    Bishop gave it to him and the hacker wrote the number on the specification sheet and jotted “Please call me.” He wrapped the sheet around the circuit board and left it in the mailbox.
    Bishop led him back down the gritty, wet sidewalk. He gave no reaction to what he’d just witnessed on the porch.
    As the two of them approached the Crown Victoria, one with perfect posture, the other with a permanent slouch, a man appeared out of the shadows across the street from Elana’s house.
    He was in his late thirties, thin, with trim hair and a mustache. Gillette’s first impression was that he was gay. He was wearing a