My God, she thought, that's the first time I've "given my number " to a man--not a business acquaintance--since Steve died. Okay, there were dinners with a couple of bachelor clients that turned out to be more than dinner. But neither relationship had lasted past a month. Both the men, nice guys, had complained she wasn't there for them--she wasn't--and had broken it off. She meditated on that as she went through the iron gates (which opened automatically) and headed down the leafy, twisting roadway leading to the expressway. She also found herself wondering what Stone Aimes was really like. There was an openness now that made her feel comfortable--though maybe that was just his deceptive reporter's manner, his calculating way of getting below her radar. He'd definitely picked up a few social skills over the past years. God knows he needed them. Whatever was going on, it was good to have him around again. There was something different about talking to him than talking to Jennifer, though Ally wasn't quite sure what it was--and she was afraid to think too hard about it. But whatever that difference, it was one of the million reasons she so missed having Steve around. Because if there ever was a time when she needed somebody to talk to . . . Why am I thinking all this? she chided herself. I'm trying to psychoanalyze him and put him in a category when I don't know the first thing about what he's actually turned into after all this time. Is all the warmth and sincerity for real? Back in the old days he'd make nice whenever the stakes were low, but then when he had something on the line, he'd push as hard as he needed to get what he wanted. Well, she reminded herself, I'm that way too. That was part of our problem. The phone beeped. "Voila," Stone's voice announced. "I got an address in the West Village. It's Two-Seventeen West Eleventh Street. The phone is unlisted but it's billed to her name, so you were right about the number. And get this, it hadn't been turned off. So I thought, idiot, why don't you do the obvious and just try calling?" "But her mother said she'd disappeared. . . ." "Well, that's highly plausible. There's an answering machine there with a very strange message. It doesn't give a name, but it's a woman's voice and it's like a _cri de coeur_. She's away but she--quote--can't say where. You should listen to it." Greenwood Lake Road had now become Skyline Drive, for no discernible reason, and the traffic was picking up. Ally put on some speed and passed a truck. "I'll do that. But we don't actually know for sure if it's the same Kristen Starr, though it surely has to be. Did you recognize her voice?" "I've never watched her cable show. I just sort of know who she is. But you'd better listen to her announcement. How could there be two screwed-up young women named Kristen Starr in the same town, even if it is New York?"