get over it quickly. Kathy was just a pretty blonde, millions more like her for a guy like me. I was expected to get on with my life. She was gone. It was over and done with.'

Christian's boyish quality - something that Myron thought would help make him the future endorsement king - had suddenly taken on a new dimension. Instead of the shy, gee-whiz, modest little Kansas boy, Myron saw reality: a scared child huddled in a corner, a child whose parents were dead, who had no real family, probably no real friends, just hero worshipers, and those who wanted a piece of him (like Myron himself?).

Myron shook his head. No way. Other agents, yes, but not him. Myron wasn't like that. But still something akin to guilt stayed there, poking a sharp finger into his ribs.

"I never really believed Kathy was dead,' Christian continued, 'lhat was part of the problem, I guess. The not-knowing gets to you after a while. Part of me - part of me almost hoped they'd find her body already, anything to end it. Is that an awful thing to say, Mr Bolitar?'

'I don't think so, no.'

Christian looked at him solemnly. 'I kept thinking about the panties. You know about that?'

Myron nodded. The lone clue in the mystery was Kathy's ripped panties, found on top of a campus Dumpster.