ONE

Early March

Seated in her favorite chair near the bright picture window of her suburban Arlington, Virginia home, Ilene Sattler lowered her needlepoint to her lap and gazed worriedly at her daughter.  Behind her, through the picture window, large snowflakes drifted silently toward the drifting snow already on the ground, but the beauty of the picturesque landscape was lost on the concerned woman.

Dressed in her typical cold weather attire of faded blue jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt, Ellie Sattler Degler stood beside the fireplace, her arm resting on the mantle as she stared despondently at the family portrait taken three months earlier, just prior to the tragic deaths of her husband and her two small children.  Her hand was pressed to her forehead beneath her bangs, as if nursing a headache.  There was no emotion on her face or in her formerly bright, cheerful blue eyes; only the distant, impassive gaze that resulted from immeasurable loss.

Ilene’s heart went out to her daughter.  In the months following the car crash that had miraculously spared her, while claiming the lives of her entire family, Ellie’s body was healing of the physical injuries sustained in the accident, but her emotional state was considered precarious at best by the doctors who were treating her depression.  Her joy of living had evaporated, leaving her heart as empty as the house in which she had lived with her family.  Ilene found that as troubling as the physical injuries.

Upon her release from the hospital, Ellie had been physically and emotionally unable to care for herself, so her parents had insisted she stay with them until she was fully recovered from her injuries and from the trauma of her devastating loss.  Ellie had not protested the suggestion.  She was not interested enough in anything to reclaim any independence over her life, and besides, there was nothing for her at home except a house filled with physical reminders of her loss.  She had moved back into her old bedroom in her childhood home, content to allow her parents to care for her.

The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months, and still Ellie’s depression consumed her.  She tried to ignore the frequent, worried glances bestowed upon her by her mother and father, but despite her assurances that she would not do anything foolish, they were uneasy about her inability to recover her formerly sunny disposition, and worried that she might do something to harm herself.  She tried to be cheerful, but her infrequent smiles were forced, and were offered merely to indulge those around her, whom she knew were desperately concerned about her.  She expressed no enthusiasm over anything.  She did not laugh, she did not cry.  Occasionally, when thinking of her lost loved ones, she could feel the burning of tears that crowded behind her eyes, but she refused to release them in the soul-cleansing cry that Ilene felt she needed to help her recover her well-being.

As Ilene observed her daughter now, she noticed that her eyes were dry.

"Ellie, I’ve been thinking.  Why don’t you sell that big house and continue to stay with us for awhile," Ilene suggested.  "We’ve enjoyed having you home again, and that house is really too big for one person, anyway.  When you’re ready to be on your own again, we could help you find something smaller."

Ellie lifted her shoulders in a disinterested shrug.  She knew her parents wanted to keep an eye on her.  "I’ll think about it."

Ilene’s forehead puckered in a troubled frown.  She knew Ellie would not think about it at all.  After a moment, she tried again to interest her daughter in something.  "I have an idea.  Why don’t you and I go see a show this afternoon?"

Ellie turned her head to look at her, fixing those opaque blue eyes upon her in a dispassionate gaze.  "There’s nothing on that looks good," she replied with a sigh. 

Ilene knew her daughter didn‘t even know what was playing.  She had not seen a review on television nor read the newspaper since coming to stay with them.   "Then why don’t the three of us go out to dinner this evening?  Your father was telling me about a new place downtown ----"

"I’m not very hungry."

In despair, Ilene set her needlepoint on the table beside her, no longer interested in the stitching that usually gave her pleasure.  With critical eyes, she gazed at her daughter‘s emaciated figure.  Ellie was not eating properly, and had grown extremely thin, almost gaunt.  Moving to her daughter’s side, she brushed back a lock of blonde hair that hung over the grieving woman’s forehead.  "Honey, you’re growing thin.  You’re not eating properly."

Ellie shifted her eyes from the portrait to look at her mother.  Forcing the corners of her lips upward, she managed a weak smile.  "I know you’re worried, Mom, but I just don’t have much of an appetite anymore."

"Well, that’s understandable after the loss you’ve suffered, but Ellie, dear, you must eat to survive.  Mark and the children would not want you to ruin your health like this." 

Ellie lowered her eyes, as if ashamed.  "I know what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it; I really do," she replied, patiently.  "I just have to work through this myself."

"Sometimes, it isn’t good to try to work through them on your own.  I think maybe I should phone Doctor Collins.  There must be something he can do to make you feel better."

Ellie knew that would mean more sessions with the psychiatrist and more of those pills he had prescribed.  "There’s nothing he can do for me," Ellie stated.  She sighed, again, and returned her gaze to the portrait.  "I just need something to do, something to keep me from thinking about all this."

"That is my thought, dear, but I can’t seem to interest you in anything.  What is it you want to do?"

Ellie sighed.  "I don’t know."

"Just name it, dear.  Anything at all, and we’ll do it.  Perhaps a vacation?  We could drive up to New York City and do some shopping and sightseeing.  How does that sound?"

"Whatever you want to do, Mom."

Tears of frustration stung in Ilene’s eyes.  "Not what I want to do, Ellie.  We’re trying to figure out something that you want to do."

"I feel like there’s something I need to be doing, but I don’t know what it is."  Pushing herself away from the fireplace, Ellie paced slowly around the room, almost as if searching for something she had lost, something she needed to recover.  Briefly, she paused at the large parrot cage on which her Amazon Parrot stood stretching his brightly colored wings.  She scratched his feathered head, and offered him a raison, then continued her wandering.  "I need to take more flowers out to the cemetery," she said.

Ilene’s gaze was worried.  Ellie spent way too much time at the cemetery, standing on the snow covered ground, staring at the grave stones that marked her family’s births and deaths, as if unable to comprehend that they were actually dead.  "It’s snowing, Ellie.  We’ll go out in the spring."

Ellie did not seem to hear.  Finally, at the bookcase, she stopped and, for the first time in over three months, a spark of interest flickered in her eyes.  On a center shelf, used as a bookend, was a fist-sized slab of stone, which displayed the imprint of an ancient fern.

Reaching out, she picked up the fossil, ignoring the books that toppled over, and turned the stone in her hand to examine it with the skilled gaze of a renowned paleobotanist.

"I never noticed that you still had this," she said, her fingertips tracing the rough imprint of the ancient plant.

Ilene nodded.  "Your father likes it."

Ilene’s brother had turned up the fossil twenty years earlier while digging a pond on his ranch in Wyoming.  He had given it to his young niece, who had been fascinated by the object.  That single encounter with a remnant from the ancient world had cultivated Ellie’s lifelong interest in paleobotany, resulting in a degree in that field.  Eventually, she had joined an enthusiastic paleontologist at his dig site in Montana, and had spent the following years helping him extract the ancient history of the world from the fossil records.

A personal relationship had developed between her and the dinosaur expert that had lasted until five years ago, when they had unexpectedly parted company.  Ellie had returned home, married Mark Degler, and started the family she had always wanted.  She had seemed content in her role as housewife and mother, but Ilene knew that her past life and her past love still crept into her mind. 

"I didn’t realize how much I missed it."  The hint of a genuine smile played around the corners of her mouth for the first time as pleasant memories replaced the painful ones that had haunted her for the past three months.

Although pleased to see her daughter unpredictably express interest in something, seeing her return to her old life was not the future in which Ilene preferred to see her engage.  It meant long hours in the field, digging in a hot, dirty environment to extract fossils from the earth.  It might provide temporary pleasure, but she was certain it would eventually lead to more heartache. She suspected Ellie’s restlessness lay in part to the charismatic paleontologist, a man and a love that she had never quite managed to put behind her.   "Ellie, that part of your life is over.  Maybe it’s best just to leave it be."

Ellie did not seem to hear.   Her entire attention was focused on the rock she held in her hand, but although she was looking at the object, she was not really seeing it.  Instead, she was seeing the face of another man, the man she had left behind five years ago.  Her mother’s suspicions were confirmed when Ellie said, softly, "I wonder what he’s doing?"

"It doesn’t concern you," Ilene told her quickly.  "He made his choices, and you made yours.  Those choices have taken you in opposite directions."

Ellie gazed out the window at the snow that blanketed the ground. It had been snowing all day, and large, fluffy flakes still floated toward the ground from the gray sky.  "It’s still winter.  He’s probably in class or in the lab." 

"Ellie, you know I was fond of Alan, but your father believes there is no future in paleontology anymore, especially since the existence of those two islands became public.  If anyone wants to know anything about dinosaurs, they’ll just go down there and study them.  There’s no longer a need to dig up their bones."

Ellie was shaking her head in apparent disagreement as her mother spoke.  "Alan doesn’t agree.  He says ----"

"It really doesn’t matter whether he agrees or not, dear.  Public opinion is what will determine whether or not he has to choose a new career.  If there is no market for the bones, then what is the point of digging them up?"

Ellie knew that was true, and she was saddened by it.  "I can’t imagine him doing anything else."

"He may have to.  We all have to adapt to changes.  I know you don‘t like it when I preach to you, but God does not give us more than we can bear." 

Ellie knew there was message for her in her mother’s choice of words.  She was telling her that it was time to put her grief behind her and move on with her life.  She gazed at the rock, realizing that there were options left in her life.  Perhaps her mother was right.   Maybe it was time to take that first step. 

She pushed the fallen books upright again, and replaced the fossil on the shelf.  She paused, briefly, nibbling her lower lip as she pondered the idea that had crept into her mind.  "Mom, what would you think about me returning to work again?"

Ilene’s heart plummeted.  By work, she knew what Ellie was referring to, but she felt no enthusiasm about it.  Ellie was the widow of a government employee who had come from a prominent family.  It would not be appropriate for her to return to her previous life.  "Ellie, honey, your husband was a prominent government employee with a good pension and a good insurance policy.  You have no need to go back to work.  You have a position to maintain."

Mark‘s death had left her a wealthy widow, but having money did not seem important.  "My husband is dead, my children are dead, and the money means nothing."

"What about the friends you made in your mother in law‘s social circle?  Perhaps you could --"

"I have no friends in Tiffany‘s social circle.  They viewed me as inferior."

"Oh, I‘m sure that isn‘t true."

"It is, Mother.  They all looked down their noses at me and talked behind my back."

"Well, going to work certainly won‘t improve matters."

"I don‘t like any of them, anyway.  I‘d rather work than be associated with any of them, and that includes Tiffany.  She hasn‘t once called me since I got out of the hospital."

"She’s grieving for her son, dear," Ilene reminded her, gently.

Ellie gave a short laugh, but there was no humor in it.  "Yeah, right.  She’s so broken up by her son’s death that she’s taking an extended vacation to Paris."

"Some people deal with grief differently than others.  She probably figured a change of scenery would do her some good.  It would probably be good for you, too."

"Working would accomplish that."

"I still don’t think that would be a good idea.  You’ve just suffered a devastating loss and a debilitating injury.  You need to rest and recover."

"I’ve been resting and recovering for three months.  I need to be busy, so I won’t have so much time to think.  I’m tired of staring at these walls and thinking about what happened.  I need something to do.  I’m thinking maybe he would let me work with him again for awhile."

Ilene felt her heart jerk with dread.  "It’s been a long time since you’re worked in that field, Ellie.  I have a better idea. Perhaps your father could let you do some filing or something at the office," Ilene suggested, hastily.

"Filing?"  Ellie looked at her incredulously, offended by the suggestion, knowing it was offered as a means for her father to keep an eye on her.  "I don’t want to file!  I have a degree in paleobotany.  I want to be out in the field doing what I’ve always been interested in, what I know I’m good at!"

Ilene observed her closely for several moments, then asked, quietly, "Is that the real reason?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there are plenty of paleontologists you could work with.  With your credentials, you could even apply at the Museum of Natural History in Washington.  Why does it have to be with him?"

"Because he’s the best!"  Ellie told her, then paused as the realization soaked in.  "It isn’t so much that you don’t want me to work in paleobotany, is it?  You don’t want me to work with Alan."  When her mother failed to respond to the direct question, she asked,  "Why?  A moment ago you said you were fond of him.  Why would it bother you for me to work with him again?"

Ilene leveled an astute gaze at her daughter.  "You still have unresolved feelings for him, Ellie."

"What?" Ellie exclaimed, indignantly.  "That’s ridiculous!  Alan and I are good friends."

"You’re more than just good friends, Ellie," she stated, perceptively.  "I know you two were lovers ----"

"Mother, please!" Ellie exclaimed, impatiently, uncomfortable with the notion of discussing her private life with her mother.  "This is totally irrelevant."

"You can’t deny it, Ellie, and it is relevant.  Once you’ve crossed the line from friends to lovers, you can never go back to being just friends.  The past always gets in the way."  Ilene hesitated with a guilty expression, then said, "I saw the clipping you carry in your purse."

Ellie’s eyes flashed with surprise and resentment.  "You went through my purse?"

"I was looking for a phone number so I could call Mark’s friend at the office.  You were still unconscious and Mark’s family was distraught over his death.  Someone had to do it.  The point is, you still care more deeply for him than you should.  I just don’t want to see you hurt again."

Ellie’s eyes darted to the portrait of her family on the mantle, irresistibly drawn to it, then returned her gaze to her mother’s face.  "Nothing could hurt worse than this, Mom.  Besides, Alan didn’t mean to hurt me.  He’s just dedicated to his work."

"So dedicated that your needs and feelings didn’t enter into his thinking," Ilene retorted, accusingly.

"His research is important.  Besides, we’re friends," she insisted, again.  "He even stopped by the house last summer to visit for awhile with Mark and me.  As a friend."

"And I dare say you haven’t been quite the same since."

"That’s ridiculous."

"Is it?  Before his visit, you talked about him more than is natural for a married woman, but afterward, it seemed he was on your mind all the time.  I can only imagine how Mark must have felt."

A guilty twinge in her heart caused Ellie to flinch.  She knew she had been talking about Alan a lot, but she didn’t realize it was excessive enough that others had noticed.  "I guess I was a little excited over the research he told me about.  He was describing some new theories he has on communications between velociraptors." 

"Poor Mark must have been bored to tears!"

"He never complained."

"He wouldn’t, would he?  He wasn’t the type who would speak of it, but I’m certain he must have worried that your feelings for Alan would become a threat to his marriage."

"Alan wasn’t a threat to our marriage!  Mother, Mark knew there wasn’t anything going on between Alan and me."

"There may not have physically been anything going on, but I dare say the feelings were there, and that could have been very dangerous if Alan’s visit had been any longer!"

Ellie looked startled.  "Mother, are you accusing me of attempting to ignite a relationship with Alan while I was married to Mark?"

Ilene raised her hand abruptly, cutting her off before she could complete the sentence.  Ellie was showing more interest in this conversation than she had shown in anything since the accident.  It wasn’t fair to badger her with unsubstantiated accusations.  She checked her temper and continued.  "No.  I know the feelings are there, but I’m not accusing you of being unfaithful.  I know you loved Mark, and to Alan‘s credit, he kept his distance throughout your marriage, but Ellie, please think about this.  You wrote Alan a letter from the hospital, and he never bothered to write you back.  You left messages at the University and the museum, and he never called you back.  You were seriously injured.  You could have died, and he didn’t care enough to see how you were doing.  Doesn‘t that tell you something?"

That stung.  She lowered her gaze, feeling as if a pan of ice water had been thrown on her, extinguishing her enthusiasm.  Still, even with the evidence presented by her mother, Ellie refused to believe that Alan cared so little for her that her life would be insignificant to him.  "There had to have been a reason.  Maybe the letter got lost.  The receptionist was a temp.  She might have forgotten to give him the messages."

"Ellie, stop defending him!" Ilene snapped, impatiently.

"I’m not defending him, but there must have been a reason.  Alan cares about me.  I know he wouldn’t ignore me like that."

"His actions suggest otherwise.  Ellie, you’re vulnerable, right now.  You’re not thinking clearly.  Becoming involved with that man again would only complicate things."

"I’m not getting involved with him, again.  I just want to work with him for a while until I decide what I want to do, where I want to go from here.  Mom, my whole life was centered around my family, and I don’t have that any more.  I feel like the rug has been pulled out from under me."

"That is exactly why you should stay here!  Ellie, honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think we should enroll you in therapy.  It will help you cope with everything you’ve loss, and perhaps help you sort out your feelings for Alan."

"My work will be my therapy." Ellie insisted.  "You have no idea how much I’ve missed it.  It’s exactly what I need." 

Ilene’s expression softened.  "I know it‘s been difficult for you, but I just don’t think this is the answer."

Ellie did not seem to hear.  The decision made, she lifted the telephone and sat down in the nearest chair.  "It’s one o’clock here, so it’ll be eleven there.  He won’t break for lunch until noon, but I can leave a message for him to call me."

"Ellie, please don’t do this," Ilene pleaded, even though she knew the attempt was futile.  Ellie had always been headstrong.

"Don’t worry.  I’ll pay for the call."

"That isn’t what I meant.  He didn‘t answer your other messages.  Why do you think he would answer this one?"

"If he doesn’t, then I’ll keep calling until he does."  Ellie dialed the phone number for the University of Montana, at which Alan was professor of paleontology.  When it was answered, she said, "I need to leave a message for Dr. Grant to call me when he breaks for lunch."

"I’m sorry, ma’am," the receptionist replied.  "Professor Grant is taking an extended sabbatical from teaching."

A frown creased Ellie's brow.  That didn't sound like Alan!  "A sabbatical?" she repeated.  "Do you know where he is, where I might get in touch with him?"

"You might see if he’s at the Museum of the Rockies.  He may be doing some research there.  Do you have that number?"

"Yes, I have it.  Thank you," Ellie said, then hung up the phone, thinking it peculiar that Alan had apparently decided to take some time away from his professorship.  She dialed the number to the museum.

After three rings, the receptionist answered.  This time, it was a familiar voice.  "Museum of the Rockies.  This is Peggy.  How may I direct your call?"

"Hi, Peg.  This is Ellie.  Ellie Sattler."

The voice on the other end of the line became animated with recognition.  "Ellie!  It’s been a long time!  How have you been?"

"Coping," she replied, assuming that Alan had told her about the tragedy.

"Dr. Grant said you had gotten married."

Ellie’s surprised pause was barely perceptible.  Obviously, Peggy didn’t know about the accident or she would not have mentioned the marriage.  Apparently, Alan had kept the information to himself.  "Yes, I did."

Peggy‘s sigh was wistful.  "I have to say, I always thought you would marry Alan.  I always thought you two were such a great looking couple."

So did I.  "Well, it just didn’t work out that way.  Is he there?"

A slight pause ensued before Peggy asked, "You mean Dr. Grant?"

"Yes."

"Why, no, he isn’t," Peggy replied.  Her voice indicated surprise that Ellie had asked.  "Ellie, didn’t you know?  He’s no longer associated with the museum or the university, at least as far as I know."

Now it was Ellie’s turn to be surprised.  "No, I didn’t know.  I haven’t talked to him since last June.  Where is he?  I’d like to talk to him about something."

"The truth is, I don’t know, Ellie.  He left us last August."

"Seven months?  What happened?  Why did he leave?"

"I really don’t know, but it was sudden, I can tell you that.  We’re all curious, but the museum curators won’t tell us a thing!  One day he was here, the next he wasn’t.   We haven’t heard from him since.  He hasn’t even called for the messages on his voice mail or picked up the mail that came in after he left.  We just sent them over to his house, but he never acknowledged receiving them.  It’s like he just dropped off the face of the earth."

An inexplicable chill shivered down Ellie’s spine, a sensation of intense, overpowering foreboding.  Something is wrong!

"Maybe he’s on a dig site, or something," Peggy suggested, breaking the sudden silence that had fallen over Ellie‘s end of the conversation.

"Peggy, its March.  The ground is frozen solid."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line.  "Have you tried his house?" Peggy asked.

"Not yet, but I’ll try there next."

"I hope you find him."

Ellie hung up the phone, then dialed Alan’s home phone number, a number she had not called in a long time, but one that she still remembered.  After six rings, a recording came on the line:

We’re sorry.  The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.  If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please hang up and dial again.

Slowly, a pensive frown on her face, Ellie replaced the phone on its cradle, then stared at it for a long moment, absorbing the possible ramifications of the news she had been given.  Alan loved his profession, and he was proud of his accomplishments in the field of paleontology.  If he had resigned his position at both the university and the museum, it must be the result of something catastrophic in his life.

Ilene had been listening to the conversation, puzzled by the worried expression on her daughter‘s face.  "What’s wrong?"

Ellie looked up, as if startled by the realization that her mother was with her.  "Alan is no longer employed at the museum or the university."

"Did they say why?" Ilene asked with less concern than her daughter.  If he was no longer working in the field, then Ellie would be unable to join him.

"No.  Something must have happened, though."

"Honey, you mustn’t jump to conclusions.  He’s probably just reaching the conclusion that paleontology is a lost art.  He’s probably just moved on to something else."

Ellie was shaking her head negatively as her mother was speaking.  "If Alan is doing something else, you can bet it’s something that involves dinosaurs.  It’s what he’s worked toward his entire life."  The idea came to her with such dizzying impact that she groped for the edge of her chair to steady herself.  "Oh, no!" she breathed.  "He wouldn’t!  He said he’d never go back there!"

Ilene was not following the direction of her daughter’s thoughts.  "Ellie, what are you talking about?"

"I have to find out for sure," Ellie said, distractedly.

She stood up abruptly and hurried down the hall to her bedroom, returning a few moments later with her purse and car keys.

"Where are you going?"

"I’m going to talk to Kevin Buchanan at the State Department.  I think Alan may have done something foolish."

"Ellie, the State Department is too busy to track down personal friends."

"Mother, I think Alan may have gone back to one of the islands."

"You don’t have any evidence that he’s gone back there.  Didn’t he say he’d never go back there?"

"He didn’t intend to go back last summer, but he did.  He’s not at the university, he’s not at the museum, and he’s not at home.  I got a recording when I called his home stating that his phone has been disconnected.  He would only disconnect his phone is he intended to be away for an extended amount of time, or if something happened and he didn’t pay his phone bill.   Regardless of where he is, something is wrong.  I don’t care what it takes, I will find him!"

With more determination on her face than Ilene had seen in months, Ellie hurried out the door and drove away in her car.

 

TWO

Snowplows had been working continuously throughout the day to keep the streets clear of the snow, and the lunch hour was over, so the working public was back in its offices and places of business.  As a result, Ellie had no difficulty navigating the nearly deserted thoroughfares of the nation’s capitol.  Tourists could be seen in the city all year round, but the great crowds of sightseers would not arrive until warm weather returned.  In the spring, they would visit in droves to choke the streets and sidewalks and flock to the museums and public buildings, but on that cold snowy Tuesday afternoon in early March, only a few of the most determined tourists braved the weather.  Only a couple of people, huddled against the cold, hurried toward their destination, eager to be in out of the weather.

When Ellie arrived at the State Department, she parked her car in Mark‘s old parking space, and made her way through the deepening snow to the entrance.  She experienced a twinge of sorrow as she opened the door and entered the establishment that had employed her husband, but, driven by the need to locate Alan, she pushed those distressing feelings aside, and approached the security desk.

The security officer looked up and smiled in recognition.  "Why, Mrs. Degler, it’s been a long time."

"Yes, it has.  I need to see Kevin Buchanan.  Is he in?"

"Let me check."  He pressed the button on the intercom and spoke into it.  "Mr.  Buchanan?  Mrs. Degler is here to see you."

Kevin’s surprised voice responded through the small speaker on his telephone.  "Ellie?  Send her up!"

The guard smiled.  "Go on up.  You remember the way?"

I don’t have amnesia, she thought, but of course she avoided any sarcasm when she said with a cheerfulness she didn‘t really feel, "Yes, of course."

She proceeded to the elevator, pressed the appropriate button, and rode in silence to the floor on which Mark’s office had been located.

Sally Newton, the receptionist, looked up and smiled with recognition as Ellie stepped from the elevator into the department lobby, but Ellie could see the discomfort in her eyes.  It was the same with almost everyone she knew.  No one knew what to say to her.  Her voice was a trifle to animated when she said,  "Why, Mrs. Degler, how nice to see you again!  How have you been?"

"Hi, Sally.  I’m feeling better, now," she replied, patiently.

"Mr. Buchanan is expecting you, so go right on back."

"Thank you, Sally," she said, and walked down the long corridor toward the office, aware that the receptionist was still watching her from behind, but she did not know if it was from sympathy, or because of her casual attire.  When her husband was alive, she had always dressed up a bit when coming to the office, because Mark had preferred that she look the part of and executive’s wife, but she had not bothered to change from her jeans, today.  She no longer cared about attempting to be someone she wasn’t.

Kevin was waiting for her at the door to his office, and he beckoned her inside and embraced the widow of his co-worker and good friend, one of the few people who was not uncomfortable in her presence. 

"How have you been, Ellie?"  he asked, holding her at arm’s length to gaze at her approvingly.  She looked tired and drawn, but there was at least there was a spark of life in her eyes again.  That was something.  "You’re a bit too thin, but you’re looking better, I think."

"I’m recovering."

"We’ve been worried about you."

"It’s been rough, but I’m getting better."

"I’ve been intending to drop by to see you, but I’m so bogged down with work that I haven’t had the time."

"That’s all right, Kev.  Frankly, I’m getting a little tired of all the sympathy."  Her words were a polite request to avoid the subject of her loss.

He understood, and changed the subject.  "Can I get you something?  Coffee?  Tea?  Donuts?  We always have donuts."

"No, thanks."

He gestured toward the easy chairs across from his desk.  "Have a seat, and tell me what brought you got out on this cold, snowy day."

Ellie removed her coat and draped it over the back of one of the twin wingback chairs, then sat down in the other one and waited until Kevin was seated at the desk before she spoke.  "Kevin, I know this is a bit irregular, but you told me once that if I ever needed a favor, I should let you know."

He nodded and leaned his elbows on the desktop, as if eager to honor her request.  "I meant it."

"Well, I have a favor to ask.  A big one."

He spread his hands, urging her to continue.  "What can I do for you?"

"I’m trying to locate a friend whom I think may be in trouble."

Kevin‘s hesitation was brief, but enough to indicate that he was apprehensive about the possibility of an unlawful act committed by an acquaintance of his friend‘s wife.  "What kind of trouble?" he asked, cautiously.

"You’ve heard of Isla Nublar and Isla Sorna?"

A strange expression flickered in Kevin‘s eyes, a peculiar look that did not escape Ellie‘s notice.  It was a look reminiscent of the one she had seen on Mark‘s face that last night when she had questioned him about his projects just prior to the fatal accident.  "This friend of yours wouldn’t be Dr. Alan Grant, would it?"

She was surprised.  "Yes.  How did you know?’

For a moment, he was curiously at a loss for words, an affliction that rarely beset Mark’s talkative friend. "Well, I -- uh," he stammered, then paused, regrouped, and started over.  "Mark said you and he were friends, and when you mentioned the islands, I naturally assumed . . ."  He stopped, noticing that Ellie was watching him suspiciously.  "What can I help you with?" he asked.

"I think he may have gone there, to one of those islands.  I was wondering if you would be able to locate him without causing him any legal problems.  I know the Costa Rican government has declared both islands restricted, and I wouldn’t want to see him arrested for violating those restrictions, but I have to know he’s all right."

Kevin gazed at her steadily without answering, then he nervously reached up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead and scratched his chin.

Instantly, Ellie realized that his animations were not a part of his attempts to think of a solution; he was stalling for time, trying to decide how much to tell her.  She narrowed her eyes as her suspicion increased.  "You know something," she accused.

Kevin continued to gaze at her, but still he did not reply.  Ellie was smart, and he knew he would not be able to fool her into believing a lie.

"You do!  Kevin, you have to tell me!  Please!"

"Mark didn’t tell you anything, did he?" he asked at last, an ambiguous question with concealed implications that caused Ellie‘s pulse to quicken with apprehension, and her already pale complexion seemed to pale even further.

"Tell me what?  Kevin, you’re scaring me!"

"I’m sorry," he said, quickly.  "That wasn’t my intent.  I’m sure Mark didn’t want to worry you.  He told me you and Grant shared a past history."  With that, he leaned back in his chair to observe her, curious to see her reaction.

Ellie instantly understood the motive behind his intensely curious expression, and she lowered her eyes, briefly.  Now it was her turn to determine how much to reveal, but her furrowed brow and worried countenance indicated a relationship much stronger than Mark had revealed to him.  A close colleague, his late friend had told him, an old and dear friend.  The concern Kevin saw on Ellie’s face suggested that Grant had been more than just a friend; much more.

Looking up again, she nodded.  "Alan and I were close for awhile, but that ended when I married Mark.  Kevin, please tell me what you know.  Is he all right?"

Another brief pause ensued, during which time Ellie was aware of her heart pounding anxiously. 

Realizing that Ellie would press him until she was satisfied with his answers, he said, "All right.  Grant went to Isla Sorna nearly seven months ago.  As far as I know, he hasn‘t come back yet."

Ellie drew in a deep breath and released it in a heavy, shuddering sigh of intense worry and anguish.  If she lost Alan too, she did not believe she could bear it.  "Oh, God."  Her voice trembled slightly as she asked, "Why didn’t Mark tell me?  Why did he keep this from me?"

"He didn’t want to worry you."

"Damn it, Kevin, he should have told me!  All those months; how could he look me in the eye and withhold that from me?"

"Don’t feel ill toward him, Ellie.  He struggled with his conscience for a long time over whether or not he should tell you, but in the end, he knew you would worry yourself sick."  His pensive frown indicated that he was presently concerned about that very possibility.  He shook his head, regretfully.  "I shouldn’t have told you," he concluded.

She ignored his comment.  In a voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid of the answer, she asked,  "Is he -- is he alive?"

"I don’t know."

Impatience surged.  "Will you stop being so damned evasive?" she demanded.  "How did this come about?"

"Don’t do this to yourself, Ellie.  You should try to put this out of your mind.  You’re not well.  You don’t need the stress."

Channeling her fear and anxiety into anger, she snapped, "You unload this bombshell on me, and then tell me to forget about it?  Are you kidding?"  She leaned forward.  "No more secrets, Kevin.  I want to know everything."

He sighed.  "All right.  Grant came to Washington late last summer, around August, I guess.  He requested that we intervene with the Costa Rican government to give him authorization to go back to the island legally.  He wanted to spend an unspecified amount of time there alone, studying the animals, their habitat, and their behavior patterns.  He also seemed very concerned that some of them might get off the island."

"He went there alone?" Ellie breathed, fearfully, then she shook her head, bewildered.  "He never seemed concerned about that before," she mused.  "What changed his mind?  What does he know now that he didn’t know before?"

"I don’t know.  He didn’t offer any thoughts on that.  Maybe something happened on that island when he was there last summer.  Whatever it was, we could both see that it was bothering him, and the possibility of those animals somehow getting into populated areas would be a nightmare, so Mark personally contacted the Costa Rican officials on Grant’s behalf to discuss his request."

"And they agreed?"

Kevin nodded.  "Turns out, they were quite receptive to the idea of him going down there. The Costa Rican military has been keeping close tabs on the island’s coastline, so they apparently share Grant’s concerns, but they‘ve offered nothing specific.  His reputation as a dinosaur expert, plus his personal experience with the creatures on his two previous visits were major factors in their approval.  They don’t know what to do about those islands, you see.  They’ve been debating the issue all these years without reaching a definitive solution.  They’re hoping an expert of his rank and stature can give them some new insight to their dilemma, and perhaps make some recommendations."

She lowered her gaze, vaguely remembering that last conversation with Mark in the car just prior to the accident, and that peculiar look on his face when she had questioned him about his casework.  She had seen the guilt in his eyes, but in the end, he had refused to give her a definitive answer to her question.  "I knew he was keeping something from me," she said, quietly.

"I’m sorry, what?"

She shook off the memory.  "Nothing.  You haven’t heard from him since he left?"

He shook his head.  "Grant apparently plays by his own rules.  He demanded complete autonomy, and it was given.  He doesn‘t check in or answer to anyone.  Not us, not the Costa Rican government, not even to Hammond himself."

She managed a slight smile, but Kevin noticed that it was forced.  "That sounds like Alan.  Hammond is aware of this?"

"Yes.  We had to clear it with him, since he technically owns the animals."

"He didn’t object?"

"No.  He was a bit surprised by the request, given Grant’s outspoken criticism of the theme park, but he is eager to learn how the animals have been fairing since the Malcolm party went there five years ago.  Grant is highly respected in his field, and Hammond said he trusted him to observe without disturbing anything.  He even paid Grant’s expenses."

"Is there some way I can find out if he’s okay?  Does he have a satellite telephone or some method of communication?"

"There’s no way you can contact him directly.  He does have a satellite telephone, in case he has an emergency, but he refused to give us the number.  He said he’d call if he needs something.  I do know that he’s been receiving periodic supply shipments.  I can find out when the last shipment was made.  If he was all right when the shipment was delivered, it’ll give us some idea of how he’s faring."

Ellie nibbled her lip, experiencing a nagging sensation of nearly overpowering worry in the pit of her stomach, a sense of ominous foreboding that warned of a terrible tragedy about to occur, a tragedy she was certain involved Alan.  She knew she had to see him, face to face.  "Kevin, I don’t just want to know that he’s all right.  I want to talk to him."

Kevin was quiet for a moment, then said, "Well, I guess I could have the supplier give him the message to call you on the satellite phone."

She shook her heard.  "That’s not good enough.  I want to talk to him face to face."

"What?" Kevin asked, astonished.  "Are you crazy?  To do that, you’d have to go down to that island!" 

She flinched, noticeably.  The prospect of going back there was not appealing, but that nagging sensation would not release her from its grip.  She had to speak to him, personally, before she would be satisfied of his well-being.  "I know."

Kevin’s stare was harsh, as if she had lost her mind.  "Are you telling me you want to travel all that way just to see him face to face and ask him if he‘s all right?"

His sarcasm sent a ripple of annoyance through her frail body.  "Not just to see him.  I want to work with him."

Kevin picked up a pencil and twirled it in his fingers as he digested her shocking words.  Finally, he dropped the pencil back on the desk, and shook his head.  "Ellie, you’ve just recovered from a serious accident.  You’re not thinking clearly."

"This is the most clearly I’ve been able to think in months."

"You should be resting."

Her patience snapped.  "I’m tired of resting!  I’m tired of those damn pills the doctors put me on because they’re afraid I’ll do something stupid.  I’m tired of walking around in a stupor all day, without a clue of what I want to do or how I’m going to spend the rest of my life."

"That’ll come, in time."

"There isn’t any time, Kevin.  I have to do this."

"Why?  Why is this so important to you?"

She hesitated.  She couldn’t tell him the truth; that a strange premonition had warned her that Alan’s life was in grave danger.  He would think her insane.  Maybe I am insane, she thought, bitterly.  No one in her right mind would willingly go to that island, but she knew she had to do just that.  "You wouldn’t understand, Kevin."

"You’re right about that.  I don’t understand at all why you want to risk your health -- your life -- to go down there to work with a man you’ve seen -- what?  -- once in the last five years?  No, I can’t allow you to do that ---"

She raised her hand abruptly, cutting him off.  "You have no say in this, Kevin, but you’re a good friend, and I know your words are spoken because you care, but do not presume to tell me what I may or may not do."

"I do care."  More than she would ever know.  "That’s why I think you should take it easy for awhile and allow yourself time to recover from this."

"I can’t recover from this by sitting around the house grieving.  Kevin, when I woke up in the hospital, I knew without being told that my husband and my children were dead.  I could feel it.  I could feel that emptiness that comes when you know you’ve been left behind by the ones who mean the most to you.  At the time, I wished they had just let me die, too!  All I could do was lie there in my bed, wondering why I lived and they died.  Mom is very religious, and she kept telling me there was a reason why I was spared, that I have unfinished business, or something like that.  I thought it was ridiculous at the time, but now, I’m wondering if maybe she was right."

"So, you believe you were spared so you could go down to that island and help Alan Grant study dinosaurs?" he asked with a sarcasm that sent another ripple of annoyance through her.

"No.  It’s something more profound than that.  I don’t know what it is, exactly, and I don’t know why I feel this need to go down there.  I only know that I have to do it.  Kevin, there has been no purpose to my life since the accident, but now, for the first time, I’m totally focused on doing something."

Gazing at her across the desk, he could see that she was right.  She was more alive than he had seen her since before the accident.  He had seen her on several occasions following the car crash, and had been struck by the dull listlessness in her eyes, the lack of interest in anything that was spoken to her, the blank look of total depression on her face.  There was no question; she was demonstrating more enthusiasm than he had seen in a long time.  Still, it was not feasible to allow her to risk her life needlessly.  She was not well, and the climate and primitive conditions could be detrimental to her health. 

"Ellie, I’m just worried that you’re focused on the wrong thing.  If Grant had wanted help from anyone, he would have taken someone, another qualified paleontologist, with him."

"I’m qualified, Kevin.  And unlike other paleontologists, I’ve actually seen those creatures."

"People have been killed on those islands," he reminded her.

Her eyes flashed.  "Don’t you think I know that?  I saw what little was left of two people who had been killed at Jurassic Park.  That is something I will never forget.  But I’m a scientist, Kevin, and I want to go back to work, and right now, that means it will have to be on Isla Sorna."

Kevin set his jaw, firmly.  "I can’t allow you to do that."

"I’m not asking your permission, Kevin," she told him, defiantly.  "If you don’t want to help me, then I’ll call them myself.  It would be easier with your help, but either way, I am going."

He gazed across the desk at her, observing the determined expression and defiant eyes.  She was focused on only one objective, and that was getting to Isla Sorna.  Again, he found himself wondering just how involved she had been with Alan Grant.  It was clear to see that it was more than just a working relationship.  "You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?"

She nodded.  "Yes," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed, heavily, with resignation.  It was difficult to deny her, and he knew her well enough to know that she would find a way to make the journey even if he refused to help.  "All right.  I’ll tell you what.  I’ll call them and see what I can find out.  At this point, we don’t even know if he’s still on the island.  If he’s still there, we’ll discuss the next step."

She nodded her approval.  "Okay.  Thanks."

"Don’t thank me yet.  I still think this is madness."

He opened his desk drawer and withdrew a manila file folder.  Stamped across the front in fold red ink was the words C O N F I D E N T I A L.

Catching her curious gaze, he explained, "It was decided that we should keep his trip a secret until we see how it turns out.  If it turns out that there is a possibility of the animals getting off the island, it could generate a panic, or send a pack of gun-toting amateur Rambos down there."

He opened the file, lifted the telephone receiver, and dialed a number from one of the pages.  When the call was answered, he spent the next few minutes speaking fluent Spanish to the person on the other end of the call.

Ellie remembered almost nothing of her high school Spanish, but she listened intently, trying to pick up words and phrases that would ease her mind about Alan’s safety, but with little success.  At last, she heard the words "Gracias" and "Adios’, and knew the conversation was ending.

Kevin hung up the telephone and returned his attention to her anxious face.  "The last supply drop was five weeks ago, and he was still alive at that time.  The next scheduled drop is in five days.  I told them who you are, that you are Grant’s former colleague, that you were on Isla Nublar with him during the first incident, and that you want to join him on the island."  He scratched his head, as if puzzled by their response.  "I will be honest with you.  I was hoping they would say no, but unfortunately, I’m a bit surprised to say that they were receptive to the idea.  They said that if you’re serious, they will have Grant‘s suppler pick you up at your hotel, and they will take you to him, but Ellie, I’m begging you to reconsider."

The elation she felt at the knowledge that Alan was probably still alive was nearly overwhelmed by the reality that her plan was being put into motion.  The pieces were falling into place, and in a few days, she would join Alan on the island.

What would he say to her?  Most likely, he would order his suppliers to escort her off the island.  She would have to think of a way to prevent that.  Marveling at the irony, she realized that Mark‘s money would easily convince her escorts, Alan's suppliers, to switch loyalties.

"Ellie?" Kevin prompted, hoping her sudden silence indicated a change of heart.

"Don’t ask me to explain, but I have to do this, Kevin."

"No, you don’t.  You can let him take care of himself.  He’s obviously doing a good job at that.  He doesn‘t need the extra burden of looking after you, as well.  Have you thought about that?"

She was shaking her head, negatively as he spoke.  "My mind is made up," she told him.  "I have to see him, and I can take care of myself.  Alan knows that."

Kevin gazed at her steadily, a pensive expression on his face as he began to fully comprehend the degree of affection she felt for Alan Grant.  He concluded that she was in love with him, and probably always had been.  He fought down a twinge of jealousy.  "This man means a lot to you, doesn’t he?"

"I think the world of him," she replied promptly, startling him with her direct honesty.  "Kevin, why hasn’t anyone bothered to check on him before this?" she asked, a condemning tone in her voice.  "You had no idea if he was even alive!"

"Ellie, we’re very busy here.  Like everyone else, our resources are stretched thin due to budget cuts and personnel cuts.  Everyone is downsizing, including us."

Ellie looked as if his words had left a bitter taste in her mouth.  "Don’t you dare tell me you forgot about him!"

He lifted his shoulders in a guilty shrug.  "Not forgot, exactly.  Just overlooked.  This was Mark’s project, Ellie," he told her, compelled to defend himself in response to her critical glare.  "I took it over when he died because Mark had spoken to me about it, but I already have a full load."  He spread his hands, palms up, a gesture of guilt.  "I confess, I haven’t been as diligent or as forthcoming as I should, but ---"  He hesitated, an incriminating expression on his face.  "The fact is, Ellie, he doesn’t have any family.  There is no one to make inquiries about him, to keep this project on our minds, so . . . ."

"So he just slipped your mind?"

He sighed.  "In a word, yes.  Temporarily."

"Oh, that is cold, Kevin," she snapped, angrily.  "That is really cold!"

"It wasn’t intentional," he told her in his own defense. "Please believe that."

"Well, that certainly explains the surprise I saw on your face when I asked about him.  I jolted your memory."  She took in a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh.

Kevin scrutinized her across the desk, a mildly judgmental frown puckering his brow.  That she was obviously in love with another man was a character flaw he had never suspected from her.  It was definitely going to look bad for his best friend‘s widow to spend an unspecified length of time alone on an island with a man she had apparently loved even during her marriage. 

"Ellie, I don’t like this; I don’t like it at all," he told her.  "The danger aspect aside, have you even considered how this will look?  You’re a woman, recently widowed, and you’ll be living alone on an island with an unmarried man, a man who hasn’t even seen a woman in nearly seven months, let alone ---"  He stopped abruptly, his eyes darting to her face, sensing that he had overstepped the bounds with his careless choice of words.

Ellie’s expression left no doubt that she was greatly offended.  "I don’t like the direction this conversation is going, and I don’t appreciate your implications."  Snatching up her coat and her purse, she strode toward the door.

"Ellie, wait!"  Kevin called after her. 

Hastily, he bolted from his chair so quickly that it rolled back, slamming into the expensive credenza.  He cast one brief, pained glance at the scuffmark it left on the fine wood, then he raced around the edge of the desk, anxious to catch her before she left.  In his haste, he caught the toe of his shoe on the power cord of his calculator, which crashed to the floor with an alarming clatter.  Still tangled in the cord, he did a funny little dance in an attempt to regain his balance.  Finally, he managed to kick free of the cord, and rushed to the door, catching her by the arm just as she was turning the knob. 

"Ellie, wait," he pleaded.

She turned to face him, her eyes flashing with resentment.

He released her arm and took a step back, raising his hands as if in surrender.  "I’m sorry," he apologized.  "I was out of line.  Mark wasn’t just a co-worker; he was also my friend, and I care very much about what happens to his wife.  Ellie, I don’t want to see you make an impulsive decision that could get you hurt, or worse."

"Excuse me, Kevin," she said, her voice coldly indifferent.  "I have travel arrangements to make."

"There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"Nothing."

He sighed in resignation.  "All right, then.  If you’re determined to go through with this, let me make the arrangements for you."

Her expression softened, and she cocked her head, slightly, a trace of the old, mischievous Ellie briefly returning.  "Why would you do that for me?"

"I want to make sure you’re taken care of.  I can pull a few strings to get you decent plane fare and accommodations.  Remember, you’re going to a foreign country by yourself, and will have to spend one night in San José.  I want to make sure you have a satisfactory hotel.  Also, Grant isn’t aware you’re coming.  He’s only been ordering enough supplies to sustain one adult.  He’s going to have to have additional supplies to accommodate you.  I’ll call his supplier and increase his supply order with sufficient groceries and necessities to include you.  You can pay your share when you arrive."  He paused to clear his throat.  "I’ll leave your personal hygiene preferences to you."

"What kind of food have they been taking him?"

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.  "I don’t know for certain, but I would assume primarily canned goods:  vegetables, soups, things like that which store easily."

"Does he have any electricity to power a refrigerator or stove?"

"Hammond paid for a generator to run a freezer and other appliances.  He said he would need them to preserve biological samples, whatever that means."

"Blood, feces, anything he can acquire for examination and study," she told him.  "What about a refrigerator?"

"Yes, I believe so.  My guess it would be an industrial sized side-by-side."

She nodded.  That opened up additional food possibilities.

"As for a stove, I’m really not sure.  There must be a stove of some kind.  I don’t know how if it runs on propane, electricity, or wood."

"I’ll work up a list of foods I want."

"Okay.  I’ll call you with the travel details.  Are you still staying with your parents?"

"Yes."

"I’ll call you there when the arrangements are made."  He embraced her again.  "Ellie, promise me you’ll be careful."

"I promise.  By the way," she added with a teasing smile, the previous offensive encounter apparently forgotten.  "are you planning to write a song to go with that little jig you did just now?"

He felt his cheeks grow warm.  "Have you got eyes in the back of your head?"

"I’ll never tell!" she declared, then opened the door and walked away.

He stepped into the hall, and watched her get onto the elevator, wondering if he would ever see her again.