No point in continuing the conversation. Whoever called obviously found her number on the top edge of the bathroom door where she left it for Jack.

How the hell did the door survive the blast?

And how could she let herself think for one minute Jack escaped? And how could she expect him to talk to her after Bobby cut out his vocal cords?

Simple. She thought those things because she wanted to. Because she’s an optimist. And because hope springs eternal.

But this is the real world. If Bobby claimed he removed Jack’s vocal cords, then Jack will never speak again, period. Not that it matters, since Jack’s either dead or soon will be.

It’s not that she loves Jack. She barely knows him. But she does feel responsible. That said, she needs to move along. Needs to take care of herself. Needs to get as far away from her crazy husband, Bobby, as possible.

Ryan Decker, the terrorist, went to a great deal of trouble to help her. He lied for her. Told Bobby she died in the explosion. Then gave her a ride to Memphis.

She should have ditched her phone in the lake last night, but she kept it, hoping the information she heard about Jack was wrong. By answering her phone just now, Bobby’s goons have learned she’s alive.

Assuming the call was made by one of Bobby’s goons.

But what if it wasn’t?

She presses the redial button.

“You’re right,” the voice says. “I’m not Jack. I’m Donovan Creed, with Homeland Security. I found your number on a piece of wood at a blast site. Who am I talking to?”

Jill hangs up. The good news is Bobby doesn’t know she survived the blast. The bad news is it wasn’t Jack who found the number.

The phone rings again.

They’re probably trying to trace it. Get her on the line, keep her talking. On TV when the suspect calls, the screen starts with a map of the U.S. and keeps updating to a region, then a state. On TV there are lots of glowing, pulsing signals.