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that, Mark.” She shrugged. “And who knows…maybe whoever phoned me will discover I don’t have what they want and will leave me alone.”
    “Maybe, but we can’t count on it. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”
    “You, too.”
    She went into her room and closed the door. The lamp she’d left burning on the bedside table cast a beam of light across her desk and the painting on the easel. With a gasp she realized she hadn’t drawn the curtains before she went downstairs. She had no idea what anyone watching from outside could see through the second floor windows, but she wasn’t taking any chances.
    She rushed across the room and pulled down the shades. As she turned back toward the bed, she noticed her fanny pack lying on her desk where she’d placed it earlier and remembered she hadn’t taken her cell phone out. She unzipped the pouch and began to pull out the items she’d stuck inside this morning.
    Her cell phone was the first. She smiled at how the painted flowers and butterflies on the phone’s cover had amused Mark, then pulled out the small camera she’d carried with her to the Point. As she stuck her hand back inside for the notepad she used to jot down descriptions, her fingers brushed against two pens.
    She pulled both of them out and stared at them for a moment. The silver one with the logo for The Coffee Cup she remembered placing inside, but the other one, a sleek, black ballpoint pen, didn’t look familiar. She searched her mind for where she might have gotten it.
    After a moment, she smiled and nodded. It looked like the pens the bank had on the table where they kept deposit slips. She must have picked it up when she was in there last week. She shoved the two pens into the mug with the Degas painting imprint and plugged her phone into its charger.
    An hour later, Betsy sat at her desk reading her Bible. She finished reading the words that spoke of forgiveness, closed the book and placed it on the shelf above. The words brought to mind her mother, who had always taught her to forgive others. She thought of Mark and how she’d harbored anger against him for years. Perhaps she had been too quick to judge him.
    She understood the pressures placed on law enforcement officers because she had seen it with her sister, brother and brother-in-law. At the time she’d known Mark, he must have been under a lot of stress to close a case, and she needed to quit thinking he’d deliberately set out to hurt her. In the coming days, she needed to remind herself of how her mother would expect her to offer forgiveness when someone said they were sorry.
    With a sigh, she pushed up from her desk and walked to her bed. She sat down on the edge of the mattress and slipped her shoes off. As she started to lie down, her gaze drifted across the mug holding her pens and pencils. She smiled at how surprised she’d been when Mark recognized the painting imprinted on the container’s side. Maybe there was another side to Mark she’d never seen. If so, it would be interesting to find out more.
    She reached to turn off the lamp but hesitated. She glanced down at the goose bumps on her arms and pressed her hand against her pounding chest. Something wasn’t right.
    Betsy glanced around the room but she saw nothing to explain her sudden fear. She frowned and shook her head. She was being ridiculous. The events of the day really had taken a toll on her.
    After a moment, she switched off the lamp and slipped beneath the covers. She drew the sheet up to her chin and stared at the ceiling. The darkness in the room closed around her like a silent cocoon. She lay still and hoped whatever had triggered her disturbing emotions would pass, but it didn’t.
    Thoughts of a man’s lifeless body, a speeding car and a raspy voice on the phone flashed through her mind. She groaned, turned on her stomach, and pulled her pillow over her head. Even that didn’t blot out her rising fear.
    Then she thought of Mark who slept a few