"Calm down, Dr. Shepard. You may not believe it at this moment, but I'm here to help you. I realize we're talking about personal matters. Intimate matters, even. But you're forced to do the same thing in your job, aren't you? When human life is at stake, privacy goes by the board."

She was right, of course. Many of the questions on his medical history form were intrusive. How many sexual partners have you had in the last five years? Are you satisfied with your sexual life? Chris looked away from her and tried to pace the room, a circuit of exactly two and a half steps. "What are you telling me, Agent Morse? No more games. Spell it out."

"Your life may be in danger."

Chris stopped. "From my wife? Is that what you're saying?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Jesus Christ! You're out of your mind. I'm going to call Thora right now and get to the bottom of this." He reached for the phone on the wall.

Agent Morse got to her feet. "Please don't do that, Dr. Shepard."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because you may be the only person in a position to stop whoever is behind these murders."

Chris let his hand fall. "How's that?"

She took a deep breath, then spoke in a voice of eminent reasonableness. "If you are a target-that is, if you've become one in the last week-your wife and this attorney have no idea that you're aware of their activities."

"So?"

"That puts you in a unique position to help us trap them."

Awareness dawned quickly. "You want me to try to trap my wife? To get her jailed for attempted murder?"

Morse turned up her palms. "Would you rather pretend none of this happened and die at thirty-six?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to restrain his temper. "You're missing the forest for the trees here. Your whole thesis is illogical."