Male 23 JOSS WAS a pacer from way back. Sitting still made her want to scream. When she was upset, she had to move. Stay away from the window, Bax had told her, so she moved from the bathroom to the bed and back, four steps, turn, four steps, turn. It kept her from going crazy. It kept her from worrying about Oskar. Across the room, Bax cursed. “Dammit, Rolf.” He tossed Joss’s cell phone on the bed. He’d been using it to stay off his own, which remained stubbornly silent. “Your big chance to nail Silverhielm and where are you?” Four steps, turn, four steps, turn. “Forget about Rolf,” she told him. “Call the police directly.” “I’ve been trying to. It’s nearly midnight. The people I need to talk to aren’t exactly at their desks.” “You swore to me that if we got back here we could find a way to help Oskar.” She rounded on him, her voice tight with anguish. “We have to do it.” “They’ll call, Joss. Trust me.” “Why should I trust you about anything?
