“Good book?” said Todd, taken aback. Timothy spat a few pages out. Todd could see his teeth, jagged and gunmetal gray.

“I’m devouring it,” said Timothy, and grinned.

*  *  *

Todd woke early, remembered the dream, shuddered, shrugged, and went downstairs to make coffee. He put Behm’s prints back in their envelope—that could all be dealt with later—and picked up the phone in the hall to call Sara. Then he hesitated. He picked up the envelope and spread the photos out on the table again.

There was something here he was missing. Todd was sure of it. But what? Todd looked from print to print. Janis outside Flagg’s. Janis outside Laura’s Place. Janis getting into her car… Then it came to him. They were all Janis. But Behm had been clear: Janis was seeing someone else. So why wasn’t the other person in the photos?

Todd was about to pick up the phone when it rang. He answered it at once.

“Hello, Milstead residence, Todd Milstead speaking?”

It was a woman. She sounded breathless.

“Mr. Milstead, this is Nora Franklyn.”

“Hi.”

“From Franklyn and Sullivan.”

“I’m sorry—”

“The publishers. You sent us your manuscript? All My Colors.”

“Oh, right. Did I not put a return address on the packet?”

“Mr. Milstead, we are very excited about All My Colors and we’d like you to come to New York to discuss it.”

Todd held the phone out like it was a tiny crying baby.

“Excuse me?” he said.

Now Nora Franklyn was sounding slightly less breathless and slightly more tetchy, like a bringer of good news who feels that her good news-bringing is not getting the overwhelming joyful response that it deserves.

“Mr. Milstead, we feel that All My Colors is an extremely saleable work. I’ve already taken the liberty of showing it to one or two of my colleagues and I can confirm that they think the same as we do.”

“Okay,” said Todd, who wasn’t so much lost for words as abandoned by words in a deep forest and left to the wolves. “I—when can you—when do you want to see me?”

“Tomorrow would be great,” said Nora. “My secretary will call you with the details.”

“New York tomorrow?” said Todd. “Okay,” he added, again.

“Goodbye, Mr. Milstead. It’s going to be a real pleasure working with you,” said Nora Franklyn, and she put the phone down.

Todd continued to stare at the telephone receiver for several minutes, until eventually his arm began to ache and he had to put it down again.

Four

FOUR

Sara drove Todd to the airport.

“I am nervous,” Todd admitted.

“Don’t be,” Sara said. “They want your book, don’t they? Your book,” she teased, “that you wrote without telling anyone.”

“I was going to tell someone,” said Todd. “I just—didn’t know if it would turn out.”