Jed Whitlow was shaving the next morning, standing at the bathroom sink wearing just a towel wrapped around his waist, when his wife walked in, holding her cell phone.

"I have a question."

He rinsed his razor and stroked it through another line of cream. "Okay. Shoot."

"Do you think I should try and call Jeanne? Maybe she isn't sure if she should contact us. Or it might be that Bernardo is worried that somehow whoever has them squirreled away has set up a way to ...