They had one lens focused on the front door of the two story brick house. Another
gave a wider view of the outside perimeter. Yet another angled toward her first floor
office window. They had watched her fingers peck at the computer keyboard the
biggest part of the day, every day, except the day before, when after her daily
morning walk, she had spent the rest of the morning pacing near the telephone and
popping M & Ms into her mouth.
They had known the outcome of the call she was expecting before they had listened to
her caller give her the incredible news.
They knew everything of importance about Kay Diggs’ past. They did not know how or
from whom she had acquired the catastrophic information. But they would know that
too before the morning ended.
On this Wednesday in late June, the rich little college community in central
Pennsylvania would become dimly lit within the hour. The weather forecast called for
rain by midmorning. After Kay’s walk . . . after they snatched her.