The Planck Factor

That part was true, anyway.

Jessica

I stopped work and checked the clock. Just after noon. By now, Liz had probably read the headlines or heard the news from someone else. She could be at lunch when it scrolled across the bottom of a TV set at a local take-out deli or even a casual restaurant. Of course, Liz was so Type A, she probably ate a brown-bag lunch at her desk. As a busy Justice Department attorney, would she really pick up on an item in the many news headlines about a murder in Boulder? Perhaps she would because of what I’d told her and my hasty departure to visit her.

My cell phone rang. Probably Liz wanting an explanation. But the ID said “Private Caller.” My heart sank. Not again. I considered ignoring it but decided they’d probably keep ringing if I did.

“Yes,” I answered, anyway.

“Jessica.” That androgynous voice again. So familiar, but . . . not recognizable.

“What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

“So talk.”

“Not on the phone. I need to meet you.”

I shook my head, as if the caller could see me. “That’s not possible.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help.”

“Help how? Besides, I’m . . . .” I didn’t continue. I didn’t want to talk about where I’d gone.

“I know. You’re in D.C. So am I.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out at first. “You followed me?”

“It’s important that we talk. But we have to meet,” the caller said.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t talk on the phone. Too risky. And the men in the van have followed you here, too.”

“What?!” Jesus. Who are those guys? “Did those men . . . do that to . . . .”

“Your friend?”

“Yes, my friend,” I said.

“I wouldn’t trust them.”

I suppressed the urge to scream. “You still haven’t explained . . . .”

“It will all be explained, Jessica.” A long pause, then, “But not over the phone.”

“I don’t know.” I ran through the possibilities. If we met at a park or restaurant, what’s the worst that could happen? But D.C. wasn’t Boulder. If I were abducted in broad daylight, would anyone notice or care? My imagination was working overtime again.

“Jessica,” the voice implored. “Think of your sister.”

My blood froze. “What about her?”

“You don’t want her to get hurt, do you?”

It felt as if my lungs had collapsed.

“Think about it,” the voice said. “I’ll call you back in ten minutes.”