The return message agreed. Satisfied that she’d accomplished what she set out to do, Sam logged off, more than pleased with herself. If there was a way to locate Douglas Cosmo Rainford, III, Kayla’s brother would find it.

Sam held up her hand, a signal for a cup of coffee. Now it was time to hit the Bureau of Vital Statistics again to see exactly how many other ex-wives Douglas Cosmo Rainford, III, had. She started her search state by state, a daunting task she knew but she was grimly determined.

At seven forty-five, eleven hours since her arrival, Sam leaned back and rubbed at her gritty eyes. She scanned the printouts in front of her. Seven more wives, four of whom she knew of from her FBI search. But the real bummer was that Douglas had applied for a marriage license in Las Vegas two days ago. An even dozen! Unbelievable!

Sam got up, used the rest room, splashed cold water on her face, and returned to the restaurant section of the cafe, where she ordered a cold soft drink. She was surprised to see a new manager, a young woman wearing tight leather pants and a vest and earrings that dropped all the way to her shoulder. Minutes later, she was back at her terminal, where she initiated an email search for the other seven wives and soon-to-be number twelve.

Close to midnight, Sam turned off the computer. She stuffed the printouts into her shoulder bag. Even though the cybercafe was open twenty-four/seven, she was too weary to continue. She had one more day to work at it. She had one email address out of the seven to show for her four hours’ work. One is better than none, she told herself as she walked briskly back to the hotel.

The minute she locked the door behind her, Sam rang Olivia’s room. “I’m sorry to wake you up, Olivia, but I need you to walk down to my room. Do not take the elevator. I have something I want you to show Kayla and Zoe. Now, Olivia. I’m tired, and I want to go to sleep.”

Sam was at the door when Olivia appeared wearing a robe and slippers. Sam shoved the papers into her hands. “I think it might be a good idea to go to Kayla’s and Zoe’s rooms. Again, don’t take the elevator, walk to their rooms. I’ll call you tomorrow when I finish up. You got all this?”

“Yep. Are we having dinner together tomorrow evening?”

“Sure, leave me a message, time and place. Night, Olivia.”

The minute the hotel room door closed behind Sam, Donovan had his Blackberry in hand. He felt stupid when he typed in the message. The bird’s back in the nest. Cybercafe beyond my computer capabilities. Johansen is on it but he won’t get zip. That’s why those cybercafes flourish. Further instructions?