And besides, what did Tully know about unrequited love? Her friend would just start pushing Kate to ask Johnny out. What would Kate say then? I can’t. He’s in love with you. Deeper down, in a dark place she rarely acknowledged, there was another fear, one she only recognized in her dreams and nightmares. In the cold light of day, she didn’t believe it, but at night, alone, she worried that if Tully found out about Kate’s love, it might actually make Johnny more attractive to Tully. That was the thing about her best friend; it wasn’t that she wanted what she couldn’t have. It was that she wanted everything, and sooner or later, Tully got what she wanted. Kate couldn’t risk it. Not having Johnny she could live with. Losing him to Tully would be unbearable.

So Kate kept her head down, her hands busy, and her dreams of love hidden away. She smiled easily when Mom or Dad or Tully teased her about her social life, joked that her standards were higher than some people she could name, an answer which was always good for a laugh.

She tried not to be alone with Johnny too much, either, just to stay on the safe side. Although she no longer fumbled things or got tongue-tied around him, she always sensed that he was quite perceptive, and that, given too many opportunities, he might sense that which she worked so hard to hide.

Her plan went pretty well, all things considered, until a cold November day in 1984 when Johnny called her into his office.

They were alone again, that day. Tully and Mutt were tracking down a Sasquatch sighting in the Olympic rain forest.

Kate smoothed her angora sweater and schooled her face into an impersonal smile as she went into his office and found him standing at the dirty window. “What is it, Johnny?”

He looked terrible. Haggard. “Remember when I told you about El Salvador?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I still have friends down there. One of them, Father Ramón, is missing. His sister thinks they’ve taken him somewhere for torture, or that they’ve killed him. She wants me to come down and see if I can help.”

“But it’s dangerous—”

“Danger is my middle name.” He smiled, but it was like a reflection on water, distorted and unreal.

“This isn’t something to joke about. You could be killed. Or disappear like that journalist in Chile during the coup. He was never seen again.”

“Believe me,” he said, “I’m not joking. I’ve been there, remember? I know what it’s like to be blindfolded and shot at.” He turned his head. His eyes took on a vague, unfocused look, and she wondered what he was remembering. “I can’t turn my back on the people who protected me down there. Could you turn away from Tully if she begged you for help?”