My sabbatical would be ending soon and I had been thinking of extending it. I was happy with the progress I was making with my book and didn’t feel ready to be back on campus just yet. I spoke with Jep about it and its impact on our finances. He told me to do what I wanted, that we would be fine. For tenured faculty at Thornton Wilder, there was an option to extend a sabbatical for up to another full year, if you were willing to do that extension without pay. So I called Keith to bring up the idea. I wasn’t sure yet but promised to give him an answer very soon. He seemed glad to hear from me and equally receptive, maybe even relieved, to my keeping my return date open for the near present. Adoche was doing well with my classes, really coming into her own as a lecturer. I didn’t particularly need to hear that part, but I maintained a cordial tone.

I didn’t leave the house, or return calls, even as Julie’s texts and phone messages crossed over from concerned to annoyed. I found myself paralyzed to move forward, but unable to go back and live in the space where I had blindly accepted Stefan’s guilt. Stuck and on my own, I tried to distract myself.

A few nights later, I tried to make a fuss of Jep, pouring champagne and digging out a satin nightgown he’d given me one long-ago anniversary; but he could tell that my ardor was compensatory. Sweetly, he assured me that our life as currently construed left him feeling no more lustful than I did—with no offense to my charms.

“I can’t find out anything about who is stalking us,” I told him. “I can’t protect Stefan.”

“Stefan has to protect himself, Theaitsa. He managed to do that in prison; he told us how. He’s alert and he’s smart. How could he be in any more danger now than he was then?”

“I don’t mean protect him like he was a child,” I said. “I don’t mean hold his hand, though I would hold his hand if I could. There’s something more I’m supposed to know.” This becalmed state was unprecedented in my life. There was a process, and when I followed my process, it always led to resolution—not always the resolution I wanted, but some resolution.

“If you don’t know, it’s probably something you’re cooking up in your mind,” Jep said. “You’re like a dog with a bone. You can’t let go. Probably all those threats were just a bunch of hot air and not connected to the car fire or the photographs. And I would bet that this radio silence is just another way for this sicko to keep you off balance, too. A sick way to get his kicks.”