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Quinn pulled the scarf over his head, taking care to cover most of his face. He'd managed to sneak out of the hotel undetected, and he slunk through the back streets, winding his way toward the edge of town. He'd looked Jane up in the phone book, but when he had called, a woman with a British accent answered the phone. he'd quickly hung up, not wanting to chance that Jane no longer lived at that number. He decided to head to the address and do a little spying to see if she was still actually there. If she wasn't...well, he didn't want to think about that.

After about 20 minutes of walking, Quinn found the house on the edge of town. It was a typical house, matching many of the others in the neighborhood, set back from the road and secluded by groups of bushes. Quinn settled next to a bush and waited, training his eyes on the front door.

He wondered briefly why Jane had moved into this house from her condo, but his thoughts were interrupted by a mid sized sedan pulling into the drive. To his relief, Jane Hill emerged from the car and entered the house. A few minutes later, a stocky, greyhaired woman left the house. Quinn could hear Jane calling to her from the front door.

"Thank you, Mrs. Davis. I hope you enjoy your trip back home. I'll see you when you get back."

The woman turned to wave as she opened the door to a small car next to Jane's. "Thank you Miss Hill. There are a few extra casseroles in the freezer, in case you don't feel like cooking for a few days. And the gardener promised to come by spray the lawn the day after tomorrow, but if you like I can call her and tell her to wait until I return..." She started to say more, but was cut off by Jane.

"No, no Mrs Davis. Don't worry about us. You just have a lovely time. We'll be here when you get back." She smiled and waved again as the older woman got into her car and slowly backed out of the driveway.

Quinn waited until the car was well down the road, then stood up in the bushes. He quickly took off his dress and scarf, revealing the sweat pants and T-Shirt he still wore underneath. He was also wearing Rembrandt's loafers. He stuffed the clothing in the bushes and headed across the lawn toward the house.

As he climbed the front steps, he noticed various toys scattered on the front porch. He knelt and picked up a small stuffed dog, turning it over and over in his hands. He wasn't quite prepared for this, but it had to be done.

"His name is Woofie," a small voice said, startling him. He slowly turned toward the door, still kneeling. On the other side of the screen door, a pair of blue eyes matching his own stared back at him.

Read Part 13