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his look provided it. There was more than just professional concern and duty in his look. He seemed to be in real emotional pain for me.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “A car is pulling into the driveway,” Agent Frommer said. “Going into the garage.”
    “John. Thank God,” I said, sitting up.
    “He must’ve been flying over the Ten Freeway,” David Joseph told Lieutenant Abraham.
    He glanced at me. “Can’t blame him for that,” he said.
    John entered the house through the kitchen and came hurrying into the living room. He paused for a moment and then moved quickly to my side. He knelt to hug me and held me firmly.
    It was then that all my pent-up tears broke through whatever emotional dam I had constructed. My body shook so hard I could see his shoulders shaking, too.
    “Easy, easy,” he whispered. “I’m here. Trust in God,” he added.
    I held my breath, and he released me, guided me back onto the pillow, and stood. Lieutenant Abraham introduced everyone. John shook hands and then sat at the other end of the sofa, listening as Lieutenant Abraham summed up what had happened and what had been done so far.
    He looked at me and smiled. “She’s been holding up like a real soldier,” Lieutenant Abraham said.
    John turned to me. He reached for my hand. “I think you should go upstairs and rest for a while, Grace.”
    “No, they need me.”
    “I’m here now,” he said. He turned to the agents. “She’s been a little fragile as it is.”
    “No, I’m all right. Maybe there is something else I can do or remember.”
    “You’re close to a nervous breakdown, Grace,” John said softly. “That won’t do any of us any good. I’m sure you won’t remember anything more right now. You were questioned for hours, weren’t you? The stress is enormous. These people know what I mean.” He looked up at the agents and Lieutenant Abraham. No one spoke, but they were all looking at me. “What we need is for you to regain your strength so you can really be of help, okay? C’mon,” he said, standing. He reached down for me, but I didn’t move.
    The phone rang, and everyone froze.
    “We’re set,” Agent Frommer said.
    “Okay, Mr. Clark. Pick it up. Don’t lose your temper or anything. Listen to what they say, and do your best to keep them talking.”
    John nodded and lifted the receiver. “Hello,” he said as casually as ever. He listened for a moment and then looked at everyone and shook his head. “She’s been fighting a bad cold. She’s taking a nap. I’ll let her know you called. What? I was at a meeting that ended early,” he said with obvious annoyance. “I’ll tell her you called,” he said again, his voice colder, sharper. Then he just hung up.
    “Your friend Netty Goldstein,” he said. “I wish she’d get into e-mail. The woman hangs on to a phone conversation with the desperation of someone drowning in silence,” he told David Joseph, who forced a smile.
    “We should call our parents, John. We can use one of our cell phones and keep the lines open.”
    “No,” he said. “There’ll be plenty of time to get everyone into this.”
    “But they’ll hear about it because of the alerts, won’t they?” I looked to Lieutenant Abraham.
    “They could, yes. Or someone who knows them could hear and call them.” He looked at John. “When you call them is your decision entirely, of course.”
    “We’ll deal with that soon,” John said. “Maybe there’ll be a quicker resolution than we think.” He nodded toward the equipment. “What’s your success rate with this sort of thing, if it is this sort of thing?” John asked.
    “Oh, not bad, really.”
    “Seventy, eighty percent?”
    “Something like that,” Agent Joseph said. “I’m not much of a numbers cruncher.”
    “What about Margaret?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine our neighbor and babysitter not noticing that something was happening, despite how discreet the FBI was.
    “She hasn’t called, and I don’t want to call