At the question, my friend’s gaze darkened as much as his scent. It was not a good sign.
“Don’t ask, would you?” he snapped at me, brusquely. “Better not ask.”
I got hold of a secure telephone and finally dared to call Johanna. Around five in the afternoon in Düsseldorf I dialed the numbers calculating the time difference mentally, it was no more than mid-morning in the United States.
After two unsuccessful attempts in which the satellite connection failed, she answered. Hearing her voice reassured me. Everything related to Johanna was one more matter that was turning out well and it made me feel better regarding the whole situation that secretly bound us.
She sounded fine and assured me that she was in good health. She confirmed the suspicion that she was staying with Sheriff McCord a
