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holding the pistol with both hands, pointed in the general direction of the man.
    “Says here on your license you’re Gerald Meier from Cambridge, Massachusetts.”
    “Right. Keep looking.”
    Dacey held up an identification card. “It says you’re with the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics.”
    “Yes. I’m an astrophysicist. A theoretical astrophysicist.”
    Dacey hmphed sarcastically. “That’s the only kind, isn’t it? Like, you could do experiments with stars, eh?”
    Gerald took the comment to mean his identity was accepted and he could roll over. He shook his hair back from his face and stared up at Dacey with dark, questioning eyes. Nancy backed up and looked dubiously at Dacey, who gestured that the movement was allowed.
    “Why don’t you let me explain? Take these off.”
    “Not quite yet, but we’ll get you a bit more comfortable.” Dacey nodded at Nancy, who stuffed the pistol in the waistband of her shorts and helped hoist Gerald to his feet. Dacey yanked at the cuff, checking that his hands were still bound firmly behind him.
    “What are these things?” Gerald twisted to try to see his hands.
    “Plastic zip tie. Makes a good handcuff. I keep a few pair handy in case of people like you. Girl can’t be too careful.”
    “Hmm,” said Nancy, eyeing the cuffs. “Could I borrow some for Sammy?” Dacey laughed as the two women helped Gerald over to the steps leading to Dacey’s townhouse and sat him down on the second step.
    “Can we talk privately?” the man asked.
    Dacey considered the request. “Nance, I think we’re okay here,” she said. “Go make sure Sammy’s not up to something. I’ll holler if I need you.” Nancy offered the pistol, but Dacey declined, so she walked away, still eyeing Gerald suspiciously. The man shook his hair out of his eyes and breathed deeply.
    “Look, let me give you a number to call. It’s Norm Mankiewitz, the chair of my department. His home number. He’ll vouch for me.” Dacey paused, then nodded as Gerald recited a number. She stood up, looking suspiciously down at him.
    “Well, I guess you won’t get into mischief with your hands tied behind you.” She pulled a cell phone from her pocket, unlocked her door and went into her townhouse, leaving the door open so she could watch him. Gerald shifted himself to get more comfortable, leaning against the wrought-iron railing on the steps. He heard the murmur of Dacey’s conversation, as she apparently had reached Mankiewitz. He looked around. It was a nice street, a nice townhouse. A middle-aged woman walked by with a small white dog on a leash. She eyed him suspiciously. He couldn’t conceal that his hands were tied behind him, so he tried to look nonchalant, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles. He managed a smile and a nod, but she didn’t return the smile, shaking her head in a way that said she expected as much from the young woman who lived in that townhouse. After about ten minutes and two more head-shaking neighbors, she returned with two cans of beer.
    “He says you’re not a psychopath. He says you’re a pretty nice guy, actually, although you’re quiet and kind of spacey. He didn’t say spacey. He said absentminded. He said you’re a genius. He also said nobody knew where you’d gone and he was glad I’d found you. He wants you to call him.” Dacey kept to herself her own observation that Gerald was a pretty good-looking fellow.
    “Well, I guess all that’s true. Will you cut me loose?”
    Dacey considered the idea. “Yeah … provisionally. I want to hear a satisfactory explanation. If it’s not, I yell for Nancy and she brings her gun.” Gerald nodded and Dacey drew a small Swiss Army knife from her pocket and sliced through the strap. She set the open knife down on the porch. Gerald rubbed his wrists to erase the welts. He accepted a beer from her, opened it and took a deep swallow. His stomach still hurt badly, but the beer helped.
    “Look, I’m