Micah seemed better the following morning. Lainey plugged in the coffee maker, then switched on the morning news. She'd expected the goings-on at the mansion to be the top local story. Oddly enough, no mention of it was made on the radio, or in the morning paper.

After a quick shower, she pulled on a pair of sweats and sneakers, checked to make sure Micah was still asleep, then drove up to the Grayson place.

It seemed exceptionally quiet after the noise and confusion of the night before. She parked her car about a quarter of a mile away, then jogged up the road, slowing as she neared the driveway. An unmarked police car was barely visible in the shadows alongside the mansion. Glancing at the house, she caught a flicker of movement at one of the upstairs windows. She had a sudden, silly urge to wave.

Micah was still asleep when she got home. She threw a load of wash in the machine, including Micah's blood-stained clothes, which had been soaking in cold water, then sat down in front of her computer.

But she couldn't concentrate on her story. There were too many unanswered questions rattling around in her head, too many real-life mysteries that needed solving to worry about the fictional mystery she was trying to write.

Too restless to sit still, she looked in on Micah. He was still asleep. A good sign, she thought. Her mother always said sleep was nature's best cure for just about anything.

She was about to leave the room when her gaze landed on the black box. Picking it up, she carried it into the kitchen. After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she went into the living room to study the black box. It was an odd contraption, about four inches square. It wasn't made of wood, or plastic, or of any other material she was familiar with. She turned it over in her hands, but try as she might, she couldn't figure out how to open it, if, indeed, it opened at all.

Another mystery, she thought, and dropping the box on top of the TV, along with her empty coffee cup, she went back to her computer, determined to get at least one page written before the day was over.

She went to check on Micah again at a little past noon. He was sitting up, his pale face sheened with perspiration.

"I'd ask how you're feeling, but there's no need," Lainey said, placing her hand on his fevered brow. "You look awful."

"I feel awful. Where are we?"

"My place. Don't you remember?"

He frowned, then shook his head. "No. I don't remember anything after I was wounded."

"What happened? Why are the police after you?"

Micah took a deep breath, pondered telling her the truth, and dismissed it. "I can't tell you," he replied slowly.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Can't, Lainey. Not now. But you must believe me when I tell you I haven't done anything wrong."

Under the circumstances, there was no reason to believe him. But she did. He was telling the truth. She knew it right down to the ground.

"Are you hungry?"

Micah nodded.

Lainey smiled. His having an appetite was a good sign. "I'll fix you something to eat. If you have to - ah, relieve yourself, the bathroom's in there." She paused at the bedroom door. "Do you need help?"

Micah shook his head, and Lainey left the room. He stared after her, unaccountably pleased that she was willing to trust him even though she knew very little about him.

He gazed out the window, wondering at the wisdom of remaining here. Last night, wounded and afraid, he had called out to her, desperation clouding his judgment, but it had all happened so fast. He had been asleep in front of the fireplace, dreaming of Lainey, when a noise from outside roused him. Before he had quite realized what was happening, men were swarming through the house, their lights blinding him.

He'd had no time to try to hide in the guise of an earthling, no time to get his flight pack, no time to do anything but grab the transmitter and make a run for it.

He'd heard a voice shout, "There he is!" and then there was only confusion, an explosion, blinding pain...

He shook the memory from his mind.

It took every ounce of his strength to get out of bed and walk to the bathroom. Inside, he closed and locked the door; then, head hanging, he let himself relax completely.

When he looked into the mirror a few minutes later, his own face stared back at him.

Lainey hummed softly as she prepared Micah's lunch. She hadn't had a man to fuss over since Drew. Hadn't realized how much she missed it until now. Their marriage had been a mistake from the very beginning. She had been looking for a home and family; he had been looking for another conquest.

She knew now that the only reason Drew had stayed around so long was because she had refused to sleep with him until after they were married, because she had been determined to be a virgin when she walked down the aisle. It was a promise she had made to herself when she was just a young girl, a vow that she had silently renewed each time she saw another of her friends dressed in a long white gown - girls who clothed themselves in the outward symbol of purity and innocence when everyone knew they had been sleeping with their boyfriends for months, or years. Silly as it seemed in this day and age, Lainey had wanted to be worthy of a white dress and all the trimmings.

Maybe, way deep down where she didn't look too often, she had always been secretly afraid that Drew would lose interest in her once the hunt was over. And that might have been one of the reasons their marriage failed, but the main reason had been because, in spite of all they had done, she had been unable to have children, and he had left her for a woman who could.

Lainey had filed for divorce the day after Drew's son was born. Filed for divorce and gone back to using her maiden name. And then she had buried herself in her writing. The emotional pain and heartache she had suffered during the breakup of her marriage gave her a new perspective to write from, a new depth of emotion, of empathy, of understanding.

Her career had soared. Her personal life had been in the pits. She had forced herself to date, always shying away when the relationship started to get too serious, too intimate, resigned to the fact that she would never marry again, never have the family she so longed for...

She heard Micah moving around in the bathroom, and found herself smiling. She was drawn to him in a way that she couldn't understand. It wasn't just his looks, though heaven knew she had never seen a more gorgeous hunk of masculinity in her whole life. Just looking at him made her feel good all over, but there was a vulnerability about him, a kind of innocence, that she found vastly appealing.

She turned off the stove, covered the plate to keep the food warm, and walked down the narrow hallway to the guest room.

The bed was empty and she glanced at the bathroom door, then frowned at the strange blue light glowing in the narrow crack between the bottom of the door and the bedroom rug.

"What the... ?" She stared at the light, closed her eyes, then opened them again.

The peculiar glow was gone.

A moment later, the bathroom door swung open and Micah stepped into the bedroom, a blue-and-pink striped towel wrapped around his waist.

She couldn't help staring at his broad shoulders, the wide expanse of his chest, his long, well-muscled arms and legs. The blood-stained bandage was partly visible above the towel.

Micah stopped in mid-stride when he saw her standing there. Color stained his cheeks as he glanced down at the towel, at Lainey, and at the towel again.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't know you were here..."

"It's all right." She turned her back to him. "Get into bed, Micah. I won't peek."

She heard the rustle of sheets as he crawled under the covers, her imagination running wild. She'd already had a brief glimpse of that magnificent body. It took very little imagination to fill in the rest.

Placing the tray on the bedside table, she examined the wound in his side. Despite her crude medical skill, he seemed to be healing remarkably quickly.

"I'll put a fresh bandage on that after you eat," she said, handing him the tray. "Can I bring you anything else?"

"No, this is fine."

"Well, okay, I'll be back in a little while."

"Stay."

"All right."

She sat down in the rocker, trying not to stare at him while he ate. Even sitting in the bed, he seemed to fill the small guest room with his presence. She glanced at his jaw, wondering why he never needed a shave.

She felt her cheeks blossom with color when he looked at her, his silver-blue eyes filled with warmth and affection.

"Thank you, Lainey," he said, his voice low and a little uneven. "You saved my life."

"I'm glad I was able to help."

"You did more than help. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come when you did."

She nodded, then frowned. "How is it that I can hear your voice in my mind?"

"Simple telepathy."

"Simple! I've never heard voices in my head before... well, I have, the voices of the characters in my books, but not like this. How do you do it?"

Micah shrugged, as if it were of little consequence. "There's a link between us. When I wish to communicate with you, I tie into that link."

"What link? I don't understand."

"I'm not sure I do, either. It's never happened to me before."

"Me, either," she muttered. "What's in that black box?"

She watched his face, saw the varying emotions that flickered in the depths of his eyes. He had never lied to her before, but she knew he was considering it now.

The doorbell rang before he answered. With a sigh of exasperation, she went to see who it was.

"Yes?" Lainey peered through the peephole. Two men, one tall and thin, one short and thin, both dressed in navy-blue suits and ties, stood on the porch; a police officer stood behind them, his brawny arms folded across his chest.

"Miss Lainey St.John?"

"Yes."

"We'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

She glanced at the cop again. "What about?"

"We'd rather not discuss it out here, if you don't mind."

Lainey stared at the three men, wondering what to do, when she heard Micah's voice in the back of her mind.Let them in .

The police officer took a step forward. "I can get a search warrant, if necessary."

A search warrant! Lainey unlocked the door, unhooked the latch on the screen, and stood back, a shiver of alarm skating down her spine as the three men entered the front room. It didn't occur to her to invite them to sit down.

"What's this all about?"

"I'm Frank Bergen, from SETI," the tall man said. "This is my partner, Edward Falk. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

SETI! She tried to recall what the letters stood for. SETI. She repeated the initials in her mind. Didn't they stand for Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence?

Lainey frowned. Weren't they the people who had been looking for Jeff Bridges inStarman , some organization hoping to find proof that there was life in outer space? What were they doing here?

Frank Bergen's gaze swept the room. "Do you live here alone?''

"Yes."

"Are you alone now?"

"Y...yes."

Bergenlooked skeptical. "Have you ever been to the Grayson mansion up onNorthcliff Road ?''

So that was what this was all about, she thought. They had found her fingerprints at the mansion. "Is that why you're here? You've come to arrest me for breaking and entering?"

Bergengrimaced. "When was the last time you were up there?"

"A couple of days ago. I'm writing a mystery, and I thought the mansion would be a good setting. I've been up there a couple of times. To take pictures." She was babbling and couldn't seem to stop. "My car broke down and I spent the night there. I didn't take anything. Except pictures. Would you like to see them?"

Frank Bergen grunted softly and made a note in a little black book pulled from his inside coat pocket.

"What is this all about?"

"A couple of joggers said they saw lights on in the house. We're just checking it out."

Lainey glanced at the police officer. "Why would that interest SETI?"

Edward Falk stepped forward. "Is this yours?"

Lainey glanced at the paperback book in his hand. It was the mystery novel she had taken up to the house to read to Micah.

"I wrote it, if that's what you mean."

"We found it at the mansion."

"So? Lots of people read my books."

"So we're a little short on leads, that's all,"Bergen explained. "We figure some transient probably left it behind."

"Mind if we look around?" Falk asked.

She glanced at the police officer, wondering if his talk of a search warrant was just a bluff, but he didn't look as though he was bluffing.

Lainey shrugged, more confused than ever by SETI's interest in the old Grayson place. What were they looking for, and why did they think she had anything to do with it, whatever it was?

"Help yourself," she said, hoping that, if she acted as if she had nothing to hide, they'd go away.

They didn't. The shorter of the two suits stayed in the front room with her while the policeman followed the other suit into the kitchen.

Lainey could hear them moving from room to room, felt her nerves stretch to the breaking point as they neared the guest room. Her fingernails dug into her palms as she waited for... what? A shout of discovery? A gunshot?

She glanced around the room, and then her gaze fell on the black box on top of the television. Casually, she crossed the room and picked up the box and the cup she'd left there earlier.

"Would you care for a cup of coffee?" she asked, rattling the cup as she glanced over her shoulder.

Falk shook his head and Lainey walked into the kitchen, careful to keep the box hidden from his view. She slipped it under a dish towel and poured herself a cup of coffee. When she turned around, she saw Falk standing in the doorway.

"Sure you won't have a cup?" she asked.

"No, thanks."

He stepped aside to allow her to return to the living room. She was relieved when he followed her.

A few minutes later,Bergen and the police officer entered the room.

Frank Bergen glanced at his partner and shook his head. "There's no one here."

"Want me to dust the place for prints?" the police officer asked.

Frank Bergen regarded Lainey for a long moment, then shook his head. "I don't think so." He shoved his notebook into his coat pocket with an air of finality. "Let's go, Ed. Sorry to have troubled you, Miss St. John."

"What is it, exactly, that you're looking for?"

"A fugitive. Thanks for your time."

Lainey nodded. She watched them drive away, then closed and locked the door. If Micah wasn't here, where was he?