Joe felt a sad smile creep across his face, recalling the little girl he'd seen at the patio table-Henrietta was her name-realizing that she looked just like this man except for the flaming red hair. The other Tasker kid was named Matthew according to the file, and if memory served him correctly,.which it always did, the boy looked more like his mom.

Joe rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. He must have read this stuff ten times since Roger sent it to him-everything he'd ever wanted to know about what had happened to his mystery woman, all in one convenient little 400 kilobyte file.

Her name was Charlotte-Charlotte!-and she would have been just twenty-two that day. All this time he'd thought of her as a Kim or a Jenny or a Terri, but she was a Charlotte. It sounded kind of old-fashioned and stuffy in his opinion, and it made him chuckle to put that name with those memories.

It was Charlotte who pressed her sweet little hips into him when he pinned her against the car. Charlotte who happily opened her mouth to his kiss. Charlotte who rolled with him in the weeds, tore at his clothes, and whispered, "Hurry, oh please hurry!" when he fumbled with the first condom wrapper.

It was Charlotte who gave herself to him over and over, shuddering on top of his body, tight as a clenched fist around him.

It was Charlotte who said, "I don't have a name and neither do you, all right?"

It was Charlotte who kissed him good-bye with such hunger that she broke his tooth.

Joe shut down the computer and turned off the light. He wandered into the smaller bedroom and dropped his clothes to the floor, then slipped under the cool, clean sheets in the nude.