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voice-mail messages left there.”
    “So they heard the message Tom left?”
    “Count on it. But he probably counted on that, too.”
    “And they’re probably going to get all phone records, at home and at Tom’s office, right? So they can see who he might have tried to reach.”
    “You got it.”
    “But only long-distance, right?”
    “Wrong. The phone company keeps a log of every single local phone call that’s made—phone number dialed, duration of call, all that. That’s how they do billing for people who don’t have unlimited calling plans.” Claire nodded. “But they don’t preserve the records beyond one billing cycle, which means roughly a month.”
    “So is there any way Tom can contact me without them knowing?”
    Devereaux was silent for a moment. He cupped a hand over his mouth. “Probably.”
    “How?”
    “I’d have to think on that. ’Course, Tom’s probably already thought about that. Also, we have to assume that they’ve bugged this office, too.”
    “You gotta find out what’s going on, Ray.”
    “I’ll see what I can dig up.” He grasped the arms of the chair and fixed her with a stagy glare. “Will that be all, Professor?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

    “ I want to eat while I’m watching Beauty and the Beast, ” Annie chanted.
    “You’ll eat at the table,” Claire said as sternly as she could. Jackie served Claire and herself salad from an immense rustic Tuscan bowl. Salads were one of her specialties. Jackie was a vegetarian these days, having gone through vegan and macrobiotic phases, all the while smoking heavily.
    “No. I want to eat while I’m watching Beauty and the Beast. I want to eat macaroni-and-cheese on the couch while I’m watching Beauty and the Beast. ”
    At one end of the spacious kitchen was a corner where Annie stashed her vast collection of toys, which included a ragged Elmo, a torn Kermit the Frog puppet, a battle-scarred Mr. Potato Head. There were dozens of others that Annie hadn’t touched or even noticed in months. A large television set faced a tattered, slipcovered sofa stained with a thousand microwaved frozen macaroni-and-cheeses, a thousand sippy-cups of grape juice, a thousand red popsicles (no flavor known to man, just red).
    “Come on, kiddo,” Jackie said, “come eat with your mommy and me.”
    “No.”
    “We’re a family,” Claire said, exasperated. “We eat together. And you’re not having macaroni-and-cheese. Jackie made some delicious chicken.”
    Annie ran over to the sofa and defiantly popped the Beauty and the Beast video into the VCR. “I want macaroni-and-cheese,” she said.
    “Not on the menu tonight, kiddo,” Jackie said. “Sorry.” To Claire, she said: “You poor thing. What would you do without me?”
    “I don’t know,” Claire acknowledged, and said, louder: “Okay, listen, Annie. Come over here.”
    Her daughter obediently returned, stood erect in front of Claire as if at an army inspection. She knew she had maneuvered herself onto the shoals of big trouble.
    “If you’ll eat the chicken Jackie made, you can watch Beauty and the Beast. On the couch.”
    “ Okay !” Annie said, running back to the couch. “Excellent!” She pressed the VCR’s play button, and dove onto the couch to enjoy the lengthy previews for other Disney videos and the ad for Disney World.
    “That’s laying down the law,” Jackie muttered. “You disciplinarian, you.”
    “But just this once!” Claire called out lamely. She dished out roast chicken and mashed potatoes on a plate and brought it over to Annie, with a small fork and a napkin. As she turned back to the kitchen table, she noticed something outside the window, a dark shape visible through the lilac bushes.
    A dark-blue government car: a Crown Victoria. Jackie saw Claire staring out the window and said, “Aren’t these goons outside driving you crazy?”
    “You have no idea,” Claire said. “One followed me to and from work today.”
    “You can’t do anything about