“You’re right on both counts. I’m wearing brown contacts. The glasses are just window dressing; they’re not prescription, just plain glass. I also darkened my hair and my eyebrows.”

He nodded, then suddenly he grinned. “Yeah. I remember you as a blonde. All the guys wanted to go out with you, but you weren’t really interested.”

“I was only a freshman, too young to know what I wanted, particularly in guys.”

“I remember there were some bets in the frat houses on who would get you in the sack first.”

“I never heard about that.” She shook her head, wanting to laugh and surprised by it. “Guys are immensely focused, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yeah. I was, too, only it never did me any good, at least not then. I remember wishing somehow that it would be me you’d go out with, but I was too chicken ever to ask. Now, we’ll get through this, Becca. You’re not alone anymore.”

She couldn’t believe he’d do this for her. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Thank you, Tyler. Thank you very much.” She felt his arms tighten around her back. She felt safe for the first time in a very long time. No, not safe. She didn’t feel alone anymore. That was it.

When she finally stepped back, he said, “It might even help if you go out with me, be seen with me around town. You know, lull any suspicions, if there are any. You’ll fit in if you’re seen with me, since I’m a native. I’ll always call you Becca, too. That’s a very different name from Rebecca. I believe that’s the only name the media has used.”

“To the best of my knowledge it is.”

Tyler slid the wooden pyramid back into his jeans pocket and hugged her once more. He said against her left ear, “I wish you’d trusted me right away, but I understand. I think it’ll be over soon. A three-day news hit and then it’s gone.”

As she pulled away from him, she devoutly prayed he was right. But how could it be? The man had tried to murder the governor of New York. He was still at large. They couldn’t just forget about it. The thing was, there was simply nothing more she could tell the authorities. What if she called Detective Morales and told him she didn’t know anything more, that she’d already told them everything? Immediately after Tyler left, she went back into the living room and picked up the phone before she could second-guess herself. She had to try to make him believe her. She didn’t know the sophistication of their tracing equipment. Well, she’d just have to get it over with, quickly, before they could get a lock on her location. She got through very quickly to Morales, which had to be a miracle in itself. “Detective Morales, this is Becca Matlock. I want you to listen to me now. I’m well hidden. No one’s going to find me, nor is there any reason for anyone to find me. I’m not hiding from you, I’m hiding from the stalker who terrorized me and then shot the governor. You do believe me now, don’t you? After all, I’m sure not the one who shot him.”

“Look, Ms. Matlock, why don’t you come in and let’s talk about it? Nothing’s for sure right now, but we need you here. We have a lead you could help us with—”

She unclenched her teeth and spoke very slowly. “I can’t tell you anything more than I already did. I told you the truth. I still don’t have any idea why none of you ever believed me, but it was the truth, all of it. I can’t help you with any so-called lead. Oh, that’s a lie, isn’t it? Anything to get me back. But why?” She paused for a moment. Time was passing, he didn’t answer her. She said, “Listen, you still don’t believe me, do you? You believe I shot the governor?”

“Not you yourself, no. Ms. Matlock—Rebecca—let’s talk about it. We can all sit down and work this out. If you don’t want to come back to New York, I can come wherever you are to talk.”

“I don’t think so. Now, I don’t want you to be able to trace this call. I will say it once more: The madman who shot the governor is out there and I’ve told you everything I know about him. Everything. I never lied to you. Never. Goodbye.”

“Ms. Matlock, wait—”

She hung up the phone, aware that her heart was pounding deep and hard. She’d done her duty. There was nothing more she could do to help them.

Why didn’t they believe her?

She had dinner that night with Tyler McBride at Pollyanna’s Restaurant nearly at the end of West Hemlock, on a small curved cul-de-sac called Black Cabbage Court.

She said over their appetizer, “What’s with the names in this town?”