Her fingers drummed the desk. Why was she having such trouble making a decision? Dorset's offer should have been irresistible. The kids would love Florida, especially knowing they would return home to their regular gaggle of friends once the investigation was concluded. With Orlando and all its razzle-dazzle tourist attractions less than an hour's drive away, she could arrange her schedule so that every weekend would be a visit to paradise for them. And for her it would mean the chance to make certain no effort was spared in determining what had made Orion go up in flames, why Jim Rowland had died in such a horrible way ... and to see that no other astronaut was ever threatened by a similar malfunction.

Annie probed her mind for the basis of her hesitation. Could it be she was afraid of failing to discover the cause of the fire, and thus failing Jim as well? Or was there some other underlying reason she was holding back, a failure of a different sort that had kept her chained and manacled in a dungeon of self-reproach since the night Mark died. Maybe, just maybe, she was like a prisoner acclimated to captivity who shrinks from her cell door as it is opened in an offer of release, looking directly out into freedom, and feeling a sudden terror that she no longer knows how to live with it.

Unconsciously at first, then with growing awareness, she studied the picture of Mark and herself in Scotland again, two people exulting in the moment, and welcoming a future that was by its very definition uncertain. Studied the picture, and all at once knew what her response to Dorset would be.

What it had to be.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the telephone and punched in Dorset's extension.

His receptionist put her through to him immediately.

"Yes?" he said, taut anticipation in his voice.

"Sir, I'd like to thank you for your offer," she said. "And also ask if I may have Roger Gordian's phone number, so I can express my appreciation for his support. And personally inform him of my acceptance."

An instant after reading Gordian's number off the display of his pocket computer, Dorset congratulated Annie Caulfield on her decision, hung up the phone, then rose from behind his desk and went over to the coffee machine on its small stand across the office. This would be his fourth--or was it his fifth?--mug of the morning and he'd only gotten in a bit over an hour ago. But what the hell, who was counting--he had enough to occupy his mind without keeping a tally.