I felt the man’s hand on my neck. Clearly, he was able to make out both sides of the conversation. I was going to say, “I’m kind of tied up right now,” but it seemed like such a cliché, so I said, “Canborough? You know Canborough?”

“Okay, I know.”

“Just talking to some people, you know.”

“Listen, Zack, I’ve been thinking,” Sarah said.

“Okay.”

“And, I don’t know, I love you, you know.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to know that. That I love you.”

“Okay.”

“But I need something from you. I need you to understand me.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to understand what I need. And I need some stability. I need some calm.”

“Sure,” I said, feeling the man’s grip on my throat relax somewhat. “I could use some of that too.”

“You seem to have this knack lately, it’s like, I don’t know, you’ve become this magnet for trouble,” Sarah said.

“Well,” I said, trying to shift my duct-taped legs, “maybe a little, sure.”

The man whispered, “Wrap it up.”

“What was that?” Sarah asked.

“Nothing. I was just saying yeah, a little, about the magnet thing. Attracting trouble.”

“You never used to be like this.”

“It is kind of new, I know. I can’t explain it. I think maybe I’m hanging out with the wrong kind of people.”

“Fuck you,” the man whispered.

“Is there someone else there?” Sarah asked.

“No, it’s a coffee shop. Just some other people.”

“Anyway, Zack, the thing is, I can’t go on this way. I can’t take the stress. It’s not just hard on me, it’s hard on the kids. If you were a cop or something, you know, maybe I could understand, try to live with it. But you’re not really cop material.”

“No,” I said, twisting a bit more. “That’s true.”

“Look, I have to go. Frieda’s looking for a linoleum update. Maybe we can talk again in a day or so. Think about what I’m saying.”

“Sure, honey,” I said.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

The man flipped the phone shut. “That was touching,” he said, and then, without warning, ripped the rest of the tape from my eyes, taking half my eyebrows with it.

I screamed, even more than when he’d ripped the tape off my mouth. Then, as light filled my eyes, I blinked to let them adjust.

He was a big guy. Work shirt, John Deere hat, jeans, work boots. Gray stubble, needed a shave.

Claire Bennet stood further back, and she looked taller than I remembered her, although that might have had something to do with the fact that my face was pressed against the barn floor. “Mrs. Bennet,” I said, trying to be cordial. “And you,” I said, my eyes darting toward the man in the tractor hat, “are Mr. Bennet?”

He nodded slowly. “Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for Trixie,” I said.