“Do you have her home address?”

“I do.” Ellie sighed. “It’ll be in personnel records.”

“We need to see it.”

“Then come this way,” Ellie said dourly. “But it may take me some time to find it. My computer has just crashed. I’ll have to send someone to the basement for a hard copy.”

Bless her heart, Michael thought. She was giving him time, and letting him know it.

“Did you get that, Michael?” she said into the phone. “If you see Jenny, let her know Immigration wishes to speak with her.” She clicked the phone dead. “Come with me, gentlemen,” she said, and ushered them firmly out of the office.

But as she closed the door behind them, she faced Michael’s office through the one-way glass.

And raised her eyebrows in a very odd look.

THE DOOR was barely closed behind them when Jenny was out of her chair, heading for the back door. Michael caught her as she passed and held her wrist as one might a fugitive.

“Jenny.”

“I must go.”

“Not until I know what’s going on.”

“I…” She took a ragged breath and tried for control. Her eyes were huge in her pale face. She looked about sixteen, Michael thought, though he was sure her personnel records said mid-twenties. “I guess… I mean, they’re right,” she stammered. “I’m an illegal immigrant.”

“According to them, not until Monday.” He frowned. “It’s unlike our Immigration Department to check on people before they’ve overstayed.”

“I told you, Gloria will have sent them.”

“Who’s Gloria?”

“My…my mother-in-law.”

“Your mother-in-law.” He considered that a moment, but no, he couldn’t figure this one out at all. Jenny was British, he knew, but he’d never heard any talk of a husband. Come to think of it, he’d never heard any talk at all. Jenny was bright and bubbly and talkative-about everyone but herself. But she did wear a wedding ring.