"What do you have for me?" Tom Morris asked Condor without preamble.

They sat on a bench in the main hall of D.C.'s busy Union Station. People streamed by, commuters and tourists and businessmen like themselves. The sound of so much bustling humanity echoed through the great hall, bouncing off the spectacular ninety-foot barrel-vaulted ceiling.

"Not much," Condor answered, brushing at a cookie crumb that had landed on his lap. A vendor in the food court one level below sold the best chocolate chip cookies on earth. Condor had bought himself a dozen of them.

He held the bag out to Morris. "Cookie?"

The man eyed the bag, then helped himself. "Thanks."

"Powers hasn't been back to his apartment," Condor continued, scanning the faces of the people around him. "He hasn't traveled under any of his known aliases. I've made all the right inquiries and come up with nothing. The man's gone under."

"I don't think so."

Condor glanced at the older man. "No?"

"No." Morris broke off a piece of the cookie. "A call came in to the Agency a couple months ago. Caller identified herself as Julianna Starr. She was looking for Clark Russell."

"Julianna Starr," Condor repeated. "Any relation to the stiff?"

"Her daughter. I would have passed this along sooner, but the agent who took the call was new, and it fell through the cracks."

"What did she want with Russell?"

"Good question. One I'd like the answer to." Morris cleared his throat. "Here's the interesting part. This Julianna didn't show for her mother's funeral, and she hasn't collected her inheritance. None of her mother's neighbors or acquaintances have seen her for a while. Curious, considering the circumstances."

Condor drew his eyebrows together in thought. "Could be she doesn't know her mother's dead. Or, could be she saw her mother and the senator get whacked and is running for her life. Called Russell for help. Or information."

"My thoughts exactly."

"A couple months is a long time. This Julianna could be to hell and gone by now." Condor tipped back his head and squinted up at the magnificent ceiling. "You got an address?"

"And a picture." Morris handed him a manila envelope. "Ever been to southern Louisiana?"

"As a matter of fact, I just got back."

"I hope you liked the weather, my friend, you're making a return visit."

Julianna unlocked her apartment door and hurried inside. She and Richard had managed to sneak away for a leisurely lunch. Lunch at her apartment. In bed. But first they would make slow, delicious love.

She closed the door behind her but didn't bother to lock it-Richard was only minutes behind her, charged with the job of stopping for sandwiches at the café down the street.

She would be waiting for him in bed, she had decided. Naked, trembling with excitement and anticipation.

These past three weeks as Richard's lover had been perfect. Everything she had dreamed of and planned for. He treated her like a woman and as an equal. He encouraged her to express her opinions and wasn't angry when those opinions differed from his own.

The sex had been glorious. Hot. Fulfilling. Unlike anything she had experienced with John. At first she had been hesitant to tell him what she desired. But now she knew he enjoyed when she took charge, when she boldly explored his body, when she called out to him, and when she told him how she wanted him to touch her.

It was so freeing. She felt alive and for the first time in her life, like a real woman. She initiated lovemaking everywhere, anytime she thought they could get away with it-in his office between meetings, parked in his car at the lakefront, the windows open to let in the cool fall air, in a restaurant's bathroom, once in his and Kate's bed while Kate was out.

When they were together, they didn't talk about Kate. Or Emma. They didn't talk about his marriage or what the future would bring. That was okay with her, for now. Her mother had taught her well, and she knew better than to rush him. He needed to come to the realization that he couldn't live without her on his own.

Besides, she didn't need to talk about something she already knew the outcome to. She and Richard were meant to be together. And they would be. Forever.

Crossing to the bed, Julianna stripped down to her bra and thong panties. She jerked back the coverlet and sheet, then stopped dead, a small sound of surprise slipping past her lips. She stared at the gory-looking mess in the center of her bed, her stomach rising to her throat.

What was it? She reached a hand out, snatching it back as realization dawned.

A cry raced to her lips, and she swung away from the bed. Her gaze landed on her dresser, on the garments spilling out of her top drawer. Heart pounding, she inched slowly across the room, picking her way, as if the carpet itself might be contaminated.

Not garments, she saw. What was left of her underwear and nighties. They had been ripped to pieces.

John. He'd found her.

"Julianna?" Richard called out. "Babe, I've got lunch."

"Richard!" She scrambled for the door, yanking it open, then slamming it shut behind her, not wanting him to see what John had done. "Richard!" she cried again when she saw him. He turned and she launched herself into his arms. "Thank God you're here."

"You're trembling." He held her away from him, searching her expression, his concerned. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

She shook her head and pressed herself close again, unable to look him in the eyes. She longed to tell him about John, longed for him to comfort and reassure her. She didn't dare. If he knew the truth-about her, about John- he might not want her anymore. And she couldn't bear to lose him.

A partial truth, she thought, clinging to him, working to calm herself.

"Julianna?" he prodded. "Babe?" Again, he eased her away from him, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Talk to me."

Julianna's eyes flooded with tears. "Back in D.C., there was this man, an awful man. He's the real reason I came down here. To get away from him." Her throat closed over the words, and she struggled to clear it. Richard waited, watching her intently. "He's a bad person, Richard. If he finds me, he'll hurt me. I know he will."

"And you think he's found you?"

"Yes. I…I came home and I-" She caught his hand and led him to the bedroom. She showed him the bed, then the lingerie drawer.

As he surveyed the damage, Richard's expression became thunderous. "How do you know this old boyfriend of yours did this?"

"I don't, I just assumed… Who else would do something like this to me?"

"It could have been any sick bastard off the street. Some guy who's seen you around, followed you home and broke into your place. I don't like this."

Her teeth began to chatter. She grabbed her robe off the hook on the closet door and slipped into it.

"Were your doors and windows locked?"

"I think so…I don't know. The front door was, because I unlocked it when I got home."

They checked them all and though the rear door was locked tight, they found several windows unlocked. Richard took care of them, then they returned to the living room. "From now on, I want you to be really careful. Get yourself a can of mace, and don't go out alone at night. Be aware of anyone who seems to be following you, or anyone who seems to be hanging around. Let's say you notice a guy at the market, then see him again at the gas station, report it to the police."

"The police?" she repeated. "Do I have to?"

"Yes." He looked her in the eyes, the expression in his deadly serious. "I'm going to leave, Julianna. Then I want you to get dressed and call the police."

Her eyes filled with tears. "You're going to leave?"