And if so, how would he feel talking to her? He hoped time had mellowed her, though he somehow doubted it. Not Ally. What an irony. If it was the same Alexa Hampton, she could end up being his entree into the secretive world of Winston Bartlett's Gerex Corporation. The trouble was, he wasn't sure he actually wanted to see her again. Even after all the years, the wounds still felt fresh. He closed out the NIH file and opened People Search, which he often used to look up phone numbers. He started with New York State as a criterion. The names Alexa and Nina undoubtedly belonged to women, so they might be listed merely by their initials. But start with Alexa and be optimistic. He got lucky. Three names and phone numbers popped up. One was in Manhattan, and Ally was a dyed-in-the-wool New Yorker, but he wasn't sure he was psychologically prepared to speak to her. That number he decided to save for last, though it was by far the most plausible. The next Alexa Hampton lived in Syracuse, with area code 315. He was still shook up as he dialed the number. "Yeah, who's this?" Sure didn't sound like Ally. But he was playing this straight. As a reporter he always started a conversation by identifying himself, so naturally he answered, "Stone Aimes, New York Sentinel." "The fuck you want?" came the voice. It was female but it definitely was not ladylike. "I don't need any newspapers." Whoa, that definitely didn't sound like Ally. She was direct but she didn't talk like a sailor. "Sorry, ma'am. I have a few questions about your participation in some clinical trials. Sorry to bother you, but I have a deadline. Shouldn't take a minute." "You a fucking reporter?" "I'm doing a story on the Gerex Corporation. Are you--?" "The what corporation? The fuck you talking about?" "Seems like I'm calling the wrong number. I'm very sorry and I apologize." "Listen, if you're some kind of weirdo, I'm going to call the cops and have this call traced." "I said I apologize." He hung up and thought about another beer. This was beginning to feel like the moment. But he resisted the urge and called the next number. Come on. Be the right one and don't be Ally. This one had a 516 area code. That meant Long Island. "Hello," came a rusty old voice that had to be in its seventies. It sounded oversmoked and just hanging on. Again definitely not the Ally he knew. "Hello, ma'am," he said "I'm sorry to bother you, but--" "Are you trying to sell me something, young man," the woman asked. "It's not going to do you much good. I live on a Social Security check, and it's all I can do to make ends meet as is. You sound nice, but--" "No, ma'am, I'm a newspaper reporter. I'm doing a story on ... I just wanted to follow up on your admission to the clinical trials for the Gerex Corporation." He felt a surge of hope. It wasn't Ally, but she did sound like a woman who might well be a candidate for medical treatment. "Do you know what day you plan to start?"