D ressed in a warm-up suit, Kate Ramsey finally left her office in the late afternoon, climbed into a VW bug and drove off. Michelle and King followed at a discreet distance as the VW drove to Bryan Park, on the outskirts of Richmond. Once there, Kate climbed out, stripped off her warm-up suit, revealing shorts and a long-sleeved T-shirt underneath. She did some quick stretching and took off running.

"Great," said King. "She could be meeting somebody, and we won't be able to see a damn thing."

"Yes, we will." Michelle climbed into the backseat of the truck.

King looked at her. "What are you doing?"

She grabbed his shoulder and turned him back around. "Just keep your eyes to the front, mister."

She started undressing. "I keep running stuff in a bag under the backseat. Never know when the urge might hit."

King's gaze flitted to the rearview mirror, where one long bare leg and foot and then another appeared as pants came down and shorts were slid over muscled calves and sculpted thighs.

"Yeah," he said as he looked away when she started taking off her shirt, "you just never know about that old urge thing." He glanced outside and watched as Kate Ramsey's efficient strides ate up chunks of distance. She was almost out of sight.

"Michelle, you better hurry up or you'll never catch-"

He stopped when the truck door opened and closed and he saw Michelle, in a jogging bra, shorts and track shoes, streak across the grass, her long legs pumping and her muscled arms churning. He could only stare in amazement as she effortlessly burned up the distance between her and Kate.

"Friggin' Olympians," he muttered.

A t first Michelle kept well out of sight of Kate, until it appeared clear the young woman was out simply to run. Then Michelle changed tactics. Instead of shadowing Kate, she decided to take another shot at talking to her. When she pulled up beside her, Kate looked over, scowled and immediately picked up her pace. Michelle quickly matched her stride for stride. When Kate started to sprint and Michelle effortlessly kept pace with her, Kate slowed down.

"What do you want?" Kate said in a very tight voice.

"To talk."

"Where's your friend?"

"He's not much into running."

"I told you everything I know."

"Did you, Kate? Look, I just want to try and understand you. I want to help."

"Don't try and be my buddy, okay! This isn't some lame TV cop show where we're all of a sudden going to bond."

"You're right, this is real life, and a number of people have lost their lives or been kidnapped. We're trying to figure out what the hell is going on because we want to stop whoever's doing this, and I think you can help."

"I can't help you or anyone else."

"I don't think you've even tried."

Kate pulled up, hands on hips, sucking in quick breaths, and looked angrily at Michelle. "What the hell do you know about anything? You know nothing about me."

"That's why I'm here. I want to know more. I want to know as much as you're willing to tell."

"You just don't get it, do you? I've put this all behind me. I don't want to relive that part of my life." They started to run again. "And besides, I don't know anything."

"How do you know you don't? Have you gone through every little detail, been asked every possible question, run down every line of possible inquiry?"

"Look, I try not to think about the past, okay?"

"So I take that as a no."

"Would you think about it much if he were your dad?"

"What I wouldn't do, Kate, is try to hide from the truth. Have you ever really talked about any of this? If you haven't, I'm here to listen. I really am."

As tears started to trickle down the other woman's cheeks, Michelle put a hand on Kate's shoulder and they both stopped jogging. She led Kate over to a bench, and they sat down.

Kate wiped her eyes with her hand and glared stubbornly at nothing. Michelle sat there patiently waiting.

Kate started off hesitantly and in a small voice. "I was in algebra class when they came and got me. One minute I'm doingx plusy problems, and the next minute my dad is national news. Do you know what that feels like?"

"Like your whole world is ending?"

"Yes," Kate said quietly.

"Were you able to talk to your mother about it?"

Kate waved her hand dismissively. "What was there to talk about? She'd already abandoned my father. That was her choice."

"Is that how you saw it?"

"How else could I see it?"

"You must have some idea why they separated beyond what you told us earlier."

"It wasn't my father's doing, I can tell you that."

"So it was your mother's choice, and you're saying you don't know why-other than maybe feeling she'd wasted her life with your father?"

"I do know that when my mother walked out, his life was basically over. He worshiped her. It wouldn't have surprised me if he'd committed suicide."

"Well, maybe he did."

Kate stared at her. "And what, took Clyde Ritter with him?"

"Two birds with one stone."

Kate studied her hands. "It started out like a fairy tale. My father was an activist in college. Civil rights marches, war protests, sit-ins, the whole works. My mother was the beautiful actress poised for stardom. But they fell in love. My father was tall and handsome and smarter than everybody, and he wanted to do all this good. He was noble, he really was. He had great substance. All the people my mother knew were actors; people from the stage, basically all fluff. My father was something totally different. He didn't just act the part, he went out and risked his life to make the world better."

"Pretty hard for a lady to resist," Michelle said quietly.

"I know my mom loved him. What I just told you are things I learned from her and some of her friends. And I also found some of her diaries from when she was in college. They really did love each other. So I don't know why it didn't work out. Maybe it lasted longer than it should have considering how different they were. But maybe if she hadn't left, he wouldn't have done what he did."

"But maybe he didn't do it alone, Kate. That's what we're trying to get at."

"Your new evidence that you can't tell me," she said scornfully.

"A gun," said Michelle firmly. Kate looked startled but said nothing. "A gun that we found and that we believe was hidden in the Fairmount Hotel on the day Ritter was killed. We think there was a second assassin in the building, but that person didn't fire."

"Why not?"

"We don't know. Maybe he lost his nerve. Maybe he and your father had a pact to do it together, and then he didn't, leaving your dad with the full responsibility." Michelle paused and then added quietly, "And maybe it was that person who talked your dad into doing what he did in the first place. And if he did, maybe you saw or overheard something that can help us."

Kate looked down at her hands and nervously picked at her nails. "My dad didn't have many visitors and not any real friends."

"So if somebody did come to see him, you probably would have noticed," Michelle suggested.

Kate remained silent for so long that Michelle almost rose to leave.

"It was about a month or so before Ritter was killed."

Michelle froze. "What was?"

"It must have been two o'clock in the morning, I mean some crazy hour. I was asleep but some noise woke me. I slept upstairs when I was with my father. He could be up at all hours, and at first I thought it was my dad talking, but then the voice was different. I crept to the top of the stairs. I could see a light on in my dad's study. I heard him talking to someone, or rather this person was talking and my dad was mostly listening."

"What was he saying? This other person? Wait, was it a man?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"I couldn't make out much of it. I heard my mother's name used. ‘What would Regina think?' Something like that. And then my father answered that times were different. That people changed. And then the other person said something I couldn't hear."

"Did you get a look at him?"

"No. My father's study had a door to the outside. He must have left that way."

"What else did you hear?"

"Nothing. They started speaking in lower voices. Probably realized they might wake me up. I thought about going downstairs and seeing who it was, but I was scared."

"Did your father ever mention who the visitor was, anything about it at all?"

"No. I was afraid to let him know I'd overheard, so I never brought it up."

"Could it have been someone who worked at the college?"

"No, I think I would have recognized his voice." There was something in her manner, a furtiveness, that Michelle didn't like, but she chose not to push it.

"Did you ever hear the name Ritter mentioned by the man? Anything like that?"

"No! That's why I never talked to the police about this. I… I was scared to. My father was dead, and I didn't know if anyone else was involved, and I just didn't want to drag anything up."

"And the person had mentioned your mother, and you thought it might reflect badly on her somehow."

Kate looked at her with hurt, swollen eyes. "People can write and say anything they want. They can destroy people."

Michelle took her hand. "I'll do everything I can to solve this case without doing any further harm. You have my word."

Kate squeezed Michelle's hand. "I don't know why I should, but I believe you. Do you really think you can find out the truth, after all these years?"

"I'll give it my best shot."

As Michelle rose to leave, Kate said, "I did love my father. I still love my father. He was a good man. His life shouldn't have ended that way. That it did makes you feel like there's no hope for the rest of us."

To Michelle, Kate sounded almost suicidal. She sat back down and put her arm around her. "Listen to me. Your father's life was histo do what he wanted with. Your life is exactly the same. You've endured so much, accomplished so much, you should have more hope than anyone. I'm not just saying that, Kate, I mean it."