“All right, Nick.”
He got up and threaded his way to the stairs and up to kneel before the bedroom window that fronted on the street. Through the gap in the curtains, he could see the car plainly. The light snapped on downstairs. For a moment, nothing happened; the men merely sat in the car and [p48] watched the house. Finally the car began moving down the street with its lights out. Then, out of range, the driver flicked on the lights and the car disappeared. The downstairs light snapped off and a moment later Beth came into the room.
“Nick?”
“Here.”
“Perhaps they saw the crash...” she began, but he cut her off short.
“No one saw me crash.”
“I mean, later,” she explained. “After all, a wrecked car on a highway would...”
“Car? Beth, I didn’t crack up in a car. I crashed on a wooded mountain in a private plane.”
“Oh, darling, don’t be silly! You’ve never been in a plane in your life.”
In the darkness of the room, Nick could only stare in stunned amazement at the moonlit outline of his wife.