“We won’t be going back, then,” she said.

“Not in the foreseeable future.”

“Good. If I’d had to spend one more night in that boring town house with its boring white walls, wearing those boring suits, I’d have slit my wrists.”

She’d surprised him again. He’d done a considerable amount of research on Miss Lucy Miller. She came from a solid Kansas farming family, had attended the state university, got good grades. She’d been working at a job for which she was underqualified, but her employee reviews had come up glowing.

The only mystery about Lucy Miller was a period of about two years shortly after her college graduation, for which Bryan could not unearth much information. Her passport indicated she’d done some traveling abroad. The best he could figure, she’d been soaking up some culture before tying herself down to a serious career. She had an older brother who lived in Holland, so she might have been staying with him.

“My family will be worried,” she said.

“You won’t be able to contact them.”

“Ever?” she asked in a small voice. “Am I going into the witness protection program?”

“Is that what you want?”

She sighed. “I could stand a new identity. I’ve always hated the name Lucy. But I want to pick the name.”

“What would you pick?”

“Certainly not something as silly as Casanova-though I guess given the way you schmoozed Mrs. Pfluger, it fits. She’s always been mean as a snake to me.”

“Casanova wasn’t my idea. You can call me Bryan.” She would have learned his real name soon enough.

“And you can call me…Lindsay. Lindsay Morgan.”

“Sounds very sophisticated. Does it have any significance? Do you know anyone named Lindsay? Or Morgan?”

“No. I’ve always liked the actress Lindsay Wagner. You know, the Bionic Woman. I catch it on late-night TV. And Morgan-I don’t know. I pulled it out of thin air.”