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gave him a look that said he had another leg to pull.
    “Seriously, Cache. The woman has a mean streak.”
    “Do you blame her? Do you really think she’s chosen to live as far from civilization as she can because she likes her space? The woman wants to control her environment. She wants to make sure nutcases like you don’t get close to her.” Cache elbowed Tom, nearly sending him out of his chair and into the aisle.
    “She can’t be too upset with her life being made public. Remember the movie about her kidnapping? She had to have given the okay for that, and it was graphic.”
    “She was under age. Makes you wonder how much say she actually had in it.”
    “Doesn’t matter. We have to get her to agree or at least do an unauthorized exposé.” Tom slid the magazine into the seat pouch in front of him and whipped out a notepad from the over-inflated pocket of his cargo pants. “What was the name of that crazy guy who kidnapped her?”
    “Jedidiah Dawson.” Just saying his name had Cache clenching his teeth.
    “Murdered in prison by a lifer, wasn’t he?” Tom scratched notes on the pad. “Now, he was leader of the Assumption, right? Or was it the Assertion?”
    “The Ascension.”
    “That’s right, the Ascension. Be interesting to know what happened to them.”
    “Many ended up in jail for their part in the kidnapping. Any of the others either dismantled or are going by another name. Once Dawson was killed, and the movie came out, no one wanted to be associated with them.”
    “We should line up an interview with one of them. You know, get the full picture.”
    “Not going to happen.” At least, not by him.
    “This is the way I see it,” Tom said. “If Amelia doesn’t give her consent, you can get some candid shots and write something up. If we don’t come back with a story, we’re through.”
    “You might be finished, but not me.” Besides he’d already been thinking of taking his career in another direction, and this conversation was telling him that he was on the right track. The magazine’s idea of getting a story, any way you could, was no longer his.
    “You can’t mean that, Cache. I can’t lose my job. How would I pay for my Carrera?”
    Cache shifted in his seat. “Not my problem.”
    “Don’t you have expenses? Your apartment? Car? Camera equipment?”
    “I’ve been thinking of selling the apartment. Don’t own a car. Already own my camera equipment.”
    “No vices?”
    “I’m never home. I’ve saved most the money I’ve earned because I’m never in a place long enough to spend it. I actually could retire very comfortably, right now.” He didn’t realize how good retirement sounded until he’d said it aloud.
    “Give me a break. You’re what, forty, forty-two? What would you do if you retired? Within a month, you’d be begging me for your job back.”
    “Doesn’t look like that will be an issue, since you’ll be unemployed soon.”
    Tom flattened his lips into a hard line. Cache could see him trying to think up a comeback. Finally, his shoulders slumped against his seat. “Damn it to hell, Cache, you can’t leave the magazine. You’re the best out there. You want a raise, consider it yours.”
    “I’m not after a raise. I need a change.”
    “Is this all about Hank and Sarah dying?”
    Cache sucked in a breath of stale, circulated air and then let it out in a rush.
    “You can’t make a decision of this magnitude while still dealing with a tragedy,” Tom said.
    “Been watching Dr-what’s-her-name again?”
    “Yes, as a matter of fact. The Dr. Lillian Redding has good things to say. She’s the new Oprah, you know.” Tom leaned in. “I’ll make you a deal. Come to the lodge, meet Amelia, talk to her, and then decide. She meant a lot to the people of this country. Our readers want to know she’s okay. That the bastard who kidnapped her didn’t completely ruin her life.”
    Cache knew Tom was right. People did care. They needed to know that she was