"Ah, Tracy," Kim said. "Just in time. I want you to help me pick out a hair rinse. I've decided to go blond."

Tracy lifted her hands onto her hips and regarded her former husband with bewilderment. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Kim said. He was preoccupied looking at the panoply of hair products.

"What do you mean you want to go blond?" Tracy asked.

"Just what I said," Kim asserted. "And not just dirty blond. I want to be very blond."

"Kim, this is crazy," Tracy said. "You have to know it. And if you don't, I'm even more worried."

"There's nothing to worry about," Kim said. "I'm not decompensating if that's what you think. All I want to do is disguise myself. I'm going undercover."

Tracy reached out and gabbed Kim by the shoulder to steady him. She leaned forward, suddenly transfixed by his earlobe. "What's this?" she questioned. "You're wearing an earring!"

"I'm pleased you noticed," Kim said. "I had a little time before you got here, so I got an earring. I thought it was sufficiently out of character. I also got a leather outfit." He held up the shopping bag.

"What are the hair clippers for?" Tracy asked.

"Those are for you to give me a haircut," Kim said.

"I've never cut anyone's hair," Tracy said. "You know that."

"That doesn't matter," Kim said with a smile. "I'm aiming for a skinhead look."

"This is bizarre," Tracy complained.

"The more bizarre, the better," Kim said. "I don't want to be recognized."

"Why?" Tracy asked.

"Because I visited Kelly Anderson," Kim said. "And she refuses to lend us her investigative journalistic skills until I supply her with some incontrovertible proof."

"Proof of what?" Tracy asked.

"Proof of the allegations Kathleen Morgan and Marsha Baldwin made about the meat industry and the USDA."

"And how is a disguise going to help you do that?" Tracy asked.

"It's going to help me get a job," Kim said. "Marsha Baldwin told me slaughterhouses like Higgins and Hancock don't allow visitors, but she suggested I could get a job, especially if I were an illegal alien. I don't mean to say I'm trying to look like an illegal alien, just some marginal member of society who needs to earn some money."

"I can't believe this," Tracy said. "You mean you are going to go into Higgins and Hancock to try to get a job after someone tried to kill you in there?"

"I'm hoping the employment officer and the man with the knife are two different people," Kim said.

"Kim, this is no laughing matter," Tracy said. "I don't like the idea at all, especially if your fears about Marsha are true."

"It might be a little dicey if they recognize me," Kim admitted. 'That's why I want the disguise to be good. Marsha contended that Higgins and Hancock is always in need of help because turnover is so high. So I'm counting on their not being particularly choosey."

"I don't like this one bit," Tracy said. "I think it's too risky. There's got to be another way. What if I talk to Kelly Anderson?"

"She's not going to budge," Kim said. "She was clear about that. I've got to go in Higgins and Hancock, risk or not. Even if there is risk, I think it is worth it for Becky's sake. For me, it's a way to make her loss less meaningless."

Kim felt tears spring to his eyes. "Besides," he managed to add, "I have the time now that I'm unemployed. I'm on a forced, temporary leave from the hospital."

"Because of what happened in the ICU?" Tracy questioned.

"Uh-huh," Kim said. "Apparently you were the only person who thought my action was courageous.

"It was courageous," Tracy asserted. She was impressed. Kim had come around one-hundred-eighty degrees. He really wanted to do something for Becky's sake and was willing to risk his career and reputation to do so. She couldn't argue with his motives or his goal. Without another word, Tracy turned to the shelving and walked along the aisle until she found what she considered the best bleaching rinse.

Carlos had waited until dusk before driving his dilapidated pickup into the Balmoral neighborhood. He liked the fact that the streets were dark. The only lights were at the corners over the street signs. Having looked at a map, it didn't take him long to find Edinburgh Lane and eventually Kim's house.

Carlos turned off his single working headlight before gliding to a stop in the shadow of some trees lining the street. He switched off the ignition and waited. From where he was parked he could see the silhouette of Kim's house against the darkening sky. Carlos was pleased. The lack of light suggested that Kim was not home. Once again Carlos would have the benefit of surprise, only this time it would be even better. Kim would be caught totally off-guard.

Carlos waited in his truck for twenty minutes before he felt comfortable enough to get out. He heard a dog bark, and he froze. The dog barked again, but it sounded farther away. Carlos relaxed. He reached into his truck and extracted one of the long kill-floor knives from beneath the seat. He slipped it under his coat.

Skirting around the front of his aged Toyota, Carlos entered the trees that separated Kim's house from its neighbor. Wearing a black leather coat and dark trousers, Carlos was all but invisible as he silently slipped through the thicket.

Carlos was pleased when he got a full view of the back of Kim's house. Like the front, there wasn't a light on in any window. Now he was certain the house was empty.

Hunched over, Carlos ran from the protection of the trees across Kim's backyard and flattened himself against the house. Again he waited for any suggestion that his presence was known. The neighborhood was deathly quiet. Even the dog that he'd heard earlier had fallen silent.

Staying within the shadow of the house, Carlos approached Kim's screened back porch. The knife flashed briefly in the dim light as Carlos cut a slit in the screen just long enough for him to silently slip through. Burglary was Carlos's true forte; the killing talent had been born of necessity.

Kim turned off the main road and drove through the gate marking the boundary of Balmoral Estates. He glanced in the rearview mirror to see Tracy 's car follow suit. He was pleased that she was willing to help him with his hair, more for her company than from need. He was also pleased about her offer to make them something to eat. Kim couldn't remember the last time he had an actual meal although he guessed it had been Thursday night.

After parking his car in front of his garage, Kim gathered his bundles and went back to meet Tracy as she climbed from her car. It was raining harder than ever. In total darkness, they navigated the black pools that had formed along the front walk.

When they reached the cover of the porch, Tracy offered to hold the packages while Kim got out his key.

"No need," Kim said. "The door's unlocked."

"That's not very wise," Tracy commented.

"Why not?" Kim said. "There's not much in the house to take, and it makes it easier for the realtor."

"I suppose," Tracy said, unconvinced. She opened the door, and they entered the foyer.

They took off their coats and wiped the moisture from their foreheads. Then they carried their parcels into the kitchen.

"I'll tell you what," Tracy said while putting her bag of groceries onto the countertop, "I'm happy to make us something to eat and help you with your hair, but first I'd really like to take a shower and warm up. Would you mind?"

"Mind?" Kim questioned. "Not at all. Help yourself."

"It's sad to say," Tracy added, "but the shower is the only thing I miss about this house."

"I understand completely," Kim said. "It was the only thing we made our own. There's a robe in with the towels if you'd like. Of course you also have some clothes here, but I moved them out to the hall closet."