SHE’D TYPED UP her statement herself, spending two hours in her room choosing the right words and phrasing. The information had to be clear, the details of her mother’s actions, of Gloria’s, even her own.

When it was proofed and printed out, she didn’t hesitate. She took the pages down to the front desk, and calmly requested that they be faxed to Anna’s office.

“I’ll need the originals back,” she told the clerk. “And I expect a reply by return fax.”

“I’ll take care of this for you.” The young, fresh-faced clerk smiled professionally before she slipped into the office behind the desk.

Sybill closed her eyes briefly. No turning back now, she reminded herself. She folded her hands, composed her features, and waited.

It didn’t take long. And there was no mistaking from the wide eyes of the clerk that at least part of the transmission had been scanned. “Do you want to wait for the reply, Dr. Griffin?”

“Yes, thank you.” Sybill held out a hand for the papers, nearly smiling as the clerk jolted, then quickly passed them across the desk.

“Are you, ah, enjoying your stay?”

Can’t wait to pass on what you read, can you? Sybill thought. Typical, and totally expected human behavior. “It’s been an interesting experience so far.”

“Well, excuse me a moment.” The clerk dashed into the back room again.

Sybill was just releasing a sigh when her shoulders tensed. She knew Phillip was behind her before she turned to face him. “I sent the fax to Anna,” she said stiffly. “I’m waiting for her reply. If she finds it satisfactory, I’ll have time to go to the bank before it closes and have the document notarized. I gave my word.”

“I’m not here as a guard dog, Sybill. I thought you could use a little moral support.”

She all but sniffed. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“No, you’re not.” To prove it to both of them, he rested a hand on the rigid cords in her neck. “But you put on a hell of a show.”

“I prefer to do this alone.”

“Well, you can’t always get what you want. As the song says.” He glanced over with an easy smile, his hand still on Sybill’s nape, as the clerk hurried out with an envelope. “Hi, there, Karen. How’s it going?”

The clerk blushed clear to the hairline, her eyes darting from his face to Sybill’s. “Fine. Um . . . here’s your fax, Dr. Griffin.”

“Thank you.” Without flinching Sybill took the envelope and tucked it into her bag. “You’ll bill my account for the service.”

“Yes, of course.”

“See you around, Karen.” Smoothly, Phillip slid his hand from Sybill’s neck to the small of her back to guide her across the lobby.

“She’ll have told her six best friends by her next break,” Sybill murmured.

“At the very least. The wonders of small towns. The Quinns will be the hot topic of discussion over a number of dinner tables tonight. By breakfast, the gossip mill will be in full swing.”