In the aftermath, the newspapers interview Courtney about her experience. At least half of the questions ask her if she still feels safe at the bank or would she rather return to being a housewife. She answers the questions semi-politely and the bank manager promises to tighten security but doesn't really do much other than hire a police officer to watch the front door.

Justin is furious.

"You spoke to him? Why? Why would you do such a stupid thing?"

"I don't know," she mumbles. "I was scared."

"Really? That's your excuse for why you helped him?"

"I didn't help him with anything, Justin," she says from the kitchen as she makes dinner. "I was terrified so I did what he asked so he wouldn't shoot me. You weren't there. You wouldn't understand."

"I should have never let you work there," he says. "You should hand in your resignation first thing tomorrow and stay home."

"It won't happen again, Honey, I promise," she insists, turning from her aggressive salting of the pasta to face Justin. "It was just a one time thing."

"This sort of thing is never a one time thing," he says, coming into the kitchen and standing by the ice box with his arms crossed. "Your job is putting you in unnecessary danger. I want you to quit. I'll phone the bank president to make it easier for you."

"Justin, it's fine. I'm fine," she pleads, coming over to him. She takes his hands in hers. "Look at me, I'm fine. Please don't make me quit work. Working makes me happy."

He frowns. "Being at home should make you happy."

"It does," she lies. "Home makes me happy, but work does too. Don't you want me to be happy?"

She pecks him on the lips, but he doesn't return the kiss. The memory of Duncan Clyde's lips forces color into her cheeks.

Justin sighs. He pulls his hands away. "We'll talk about this in the morning. Put my dinner in the ice box. I'm not hungry."

Weeks pass and Duncan Clyde continues to haunt her. Reporters continue to want to talk to her about him. Justin refuses to even say his name. Courtney's mind refuses to let her dream with anything but the press of his lips on hers, the leather soft touch of his hands all over. But Courtney continues to wake up to the sun in her eyes and the smell of Justin on the sheets and the promise of stagnant days ahead of her.

She starts doing research. Duncan Clyde is better at covering his tracks than she originally thought and he appears in the newspaper infrequently. Little snippets here, blurbs there, rumors in the editorial sometimes. She cuts out everything she finds and pastes it in a notebook, the same she had with her at the bank.

Courtney learns what she can: His preferred method of crime is grocery stores and gas stations. He's been found amongst other crime scenes though, in a couple speakeasies and most recently, the robbery of a bank in Kansas. He has two partners—an unidentified man, assumed to be one of his brothers by the investigating police, and the slender Asian woman she'd seen with him at the bank.

Courtney holds the clipping about the Kansas robbery above her head, reading it while lying down. How exciting, to move around from place to place in such a short amount of time. She'd give anything to see Kansas city. Any city.

The afternoon sun bathes the bed in a pool of light and she closes her eyes. She tosses the clipping aside, looks at her watch and curses. Justin will be home in a couple of hours. He was bringing company as well; his boss and his wife were coming over, and Justin had strictly instructed her that they were to wine and dine them if she wanted him to get a promotion. The whole thing would be merely a show though. Justin had told her he had his boss eating out of the palm of his hands after uncovering that his dear old boss was cheating on his wife, and as long as Justin held that bit of information over him, he was getting any and all promotions that his heart desired.

Still, Courtney needs to play along. So with a grumble of how she hates cooking, she puts some clothes on and sets to making the roast chicken and potatoes Justin's boss had a penchant for. She does it even though it's damn near a hundred degrees outside, and she would rather be lazing about in the sun, drinking one of those fruity drinks they were always going on about in the magazine and wondering if someone like Duncan Clyde had ever had a boss in his life.