“No, but—”

“Besides,” he argued, “if we get caught and you’re with us, Deb’rah and Mr. Dwight won’t let them do anything to us.”

“Don’t count on it,” Stevie said darkly. “She let A.K. sit in jail three weekends last summer, remember?”

Brad Needham sighed and clicked off the television. Hard to concentrate on anything under the circumstances, and while he enjoyed watching public television (or enjoyed the idea of watching it), lap quilting and cooking shows just weren’t doing it for him this afternoon.

On the floral couch where she had been drifting in and out of sleep since lunchtime, Janice roused herself with a yawn. “I was watching that, Bradley.”

“Sorry.” He clicked it back on.

“You coming down with something, hon?”

“No, why?”

“I don’t know. Ever since we got back, you’ve been sort of blue. And like your mind’s elsewhere.” She looked up into his dark brown eyes. “You’re not worried about work or anything, are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” he said, gratefully seizing on her suggestion. “In fact, I was thinking about running over to the office to work on my report for a couple of hours.”

He took his stockinged feet off the pale blue velvet has sock that matched his pale blue velvet lounge chair and slipped on the sneakers that were neatly tucked beside the chair.

“Oh, hon!” She sat up in protest. “Can’t you do it here? I thought you finished that thing before we left California.”

“I did. But there are a couple of facts I want to check before I print it out—some data I need to get off the mainframe—and you know me. I won’t rest easy till I get it done.”

Janice smiled at him indulgently as he stood and hitched up the jeans he always wore for Sunday chores. “Oh, you! Always worrying about one more detail that needs doing.”

As he stood up, she leaned back on the couch and looked around their pretty living room with deep satisfaction. “Isn’t it wonderful to be back home, Bradley? California was great, but three months was much too long, don’t you think?”

God, did he ever agree with that, thought Brad, but he merely nodded.

“Sandwiches for supper okay with you?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll try not to be too long.”

Once in the car, though, he hesitated about which way to go. The office first, he decided, brushing back the strands of dark hair that fell across his forehead. Janice didn’t exactly keep tabs on him, but it wouldn’t hurt for the guard on the desk to be able to tell her he’d been in if she should call.

And then?

He had been so careful over the years. Never a single slip. And then there was the extra precaution he’d taken when he married Janice, a precaution that worked so well he’d come to rely on it and eventually take it for granted. It never once occurred to him that those extra weeks in California that the company had tacked onto his original assignment could be his undoing. He should have read the fine print, but who knew? And where did he go from here? He’d made himself face that guy Friday night and where had it gotten him? He should have stayed away.