“And do you really think you’re any safer now than before you spilled your guts?” Kathryn asked.

“Now he knows what you know, and he knows who told him. I think if I were you, I’d run to ground,” Kathryn said. There was not one ounce of sympathy in her voice. Pam Warren burst into tears again, all of her defiance gone.

Pam Warren looked at the faces staring at her as she shoved her personal things into an oversize shoulder bag. Her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely pull the zipper to close the bag.

“What does this mean now?” Goodwin dithered.

Kathryn shrugged as she watched Nikki’s fingers on her iPhone. She knew without asking that she was sending a text to Jack in France. “Let me ask you a question, Mr. Goodwin. Do you think Jane Petrie would have heeded your advice when you called to warn her and relocated? If so, then we can assume she’s safe, at least for the moment.”

“I think so. I scared her, I do know that. Where she would go I have no clue. She’s gone many times to France so I have to assume she’s made some friends who could, I guess, hide her out. For all I know, she could be out of France by now and be someplace where she thinks she’s safe. I did tell her to read up on Lincoln Moss. If there is nothing else, ladies, I’d like to head on out and get myself a stiff drink.”

“Don’t expect me to give you a reference, Pam,” Goodwin snarled, as his secretary headed for the elevator.

It was brutally hot as only July can be in Washington. Doubly hot in the garden pavilion at the Home Builders Depot. The overhead sprinklers that dispensed a fine, cool mist on the hanging wilted plants did nothing to cool things off.

Dennis West looked around for Jason Woods and finally spotted him at the back end of the pavilion, stacking different-colored wheelbarrows. Woods, he noticed, spotted him almost immediately. He could see the young man’s shoulders tighten up. Dennis chewed on his lower lip as he made the instant decision to approach and confront the young man. He didn’t think twice but sprinted across the pavilion and held out his press credentials. “Got a minute, Jason?”

“Actually, I don’t. My boss doesn’t like it when we conduct personal business during work hours. Since you aren’t a customer, that puts you into the personal category.”

“I can clear it with Mr. Quincy for you. That is his name, isn’t it? I just want to ask you a few questions. It concerns Rosalee Muno and Amalie Moss. Look, let’s not beat around the bush here. I know you’re helping them, and that’s a good thing. Really it is. Those two women need all the help they can get right now. But, you see, here’s the thing, you are out of your league. Lincoln Moss is not a guy you want to tangle with. Trust me on that. I represent people who can truly help.”