Chapter Four

Brent leaned against the frame of the bedroom door watching Joe stuff a couple of flannel shirts in a duffel bag. "Sylvia appears to be unlisted."

Joe looked up from his packing. "Don't tell me you can't find her."

Brent shrugged. "Just because it's the world wide web doesn't mean the whole wide world is on it. Some people don't want to be found."

Joe sat on the bed, exasperated. "Did you find anything else?"

"Not really," Brent said. "I've requested a search for Sylvia at one of the places that's supposed to be able to find anyone for a fee. Their site says it'll take 24 to 48 hours, but it may come in handy if we can't find her any other way. I'll keep checking my email on my iPhone so we don't need to wait around." He shifted his position slightly. "I went through Elise's work email. Didn't find much. There were a few messages between her and Sylvia, but I got the impression Sylvia gave the directions to her house over the phone."

Joe nodded grimly. "I should've known. I've had to find out the hard way how well that girl can cover her tracks when she wants to. She sure pulled one over on me with you."

Brent looked at his feet, unsure what to say, or if any response was even called for.

Joe pretended to rearrange the things in his bag. "Here you were, her old buddy from college days, happily married, acting like all you wanted was our friendship, to welcome us to the community--"

"That was all I wanted."

"-- all the while you two were planning--"

"We didn't plan anything. It just happened."

Joe zipped the bag and stood up. "Let me explain something to you. The only things in life that 'just happen' are acts of God, and this doesn't qualify." He pushed past Brent and headed toward the kitchen.

Brent stood immobile for a few minutes, then followed. He found Joe rummaging in the refrigerator, pulling out bread, mustard and other sandwich fixings. He snapped his head around when he came in, but said nothing and returned to digging through the meat drawer.

Brent's stomach growled. "I haven't had anything to eat all day."

Joe tossed a package of ham on the counter. "Sorry to hear that."

Brent watched as Joe began making himself a sandwich. "Can I make me a sandwich too if there's any of that ham left?"

"There won't be."

"Maybe something else, then? Peanut butter?"

Joe appeared not to have heard. He closed the sandwich, piled with generous amounts of ham, tomatoes and processed cheese, and took a bite. Then he opened a cabinet and removed a plate. After taking another bite and setting the sandwich on the plate, he opened the refrigerator again to put away the condiments and take out a beer. He twisted the lid off the bottle, tipped back his head and took a long pull. Picking up the plate again, he headed back to the bedroom. "We don't have any peanut butter. Elise says it makes her fat."

Left alone in the kitchen, Brent hesitated before hunger got the best of him. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a few things that he cobbled into an approximation of a meal. He arranged the items neatly on a plate, grabbed a beer and a napkin, and settled himself at the kitchen table, casting a quick glance around the room as if daring Joe to come and stop him. He ate quickly, but lingered over the beer, lost in thought. Finally he got up and took the plate to the sink. He gave it a perfunctory rinse and for good measure he splashed some water on his face and ran a little through his hair.

At the sound of Joe's footsteps on the parquet, Brent wandered over. "What's the plan?"

"Go to St. Argent."

"Is that reasonable at this point? We don't know where to begin looking. We don't even know if she's been gone a whole day yet. She might come back."

"She won't be back. If I ever want to see her again, I'm going to have to go find her." Joe paused, as if waiting for Brent to disagree, but received only silence for comment. Joe cast his eyes down and for the first time appeared unsure of himself. "I thought maybe we could go by her office as soon as everyone clears out. You know, look around her desk. See if maybe there's a phone number or something." He met Brent's eyes hopefully. "You can get us in, right? You have your keys?"

Brent nodded and looked at his watch. "It'll be a little while before everyone leaves. I've got a few designers who like to work late, like they'll be penalized if they're not there until at least seven or something."

"Are you going to St. Argent with me?" Joe looked away.

"If you can put up with me. Otherwise you can just leave me at the office and I'll take my own car. It probably gets better gas mileage, anyway."

"You can come with me. I want to keep an eye on you." Both men looked at each other, assessing. Finally Joe gave a small jerk of his chin. "Get your coat and I'll take you to your house. You'll probably want to pack a few things and make up an excuse for your wife."

"I guess I'll have to tell her something, won't I?" With a nod of resignation he headed toward the study. A few minutes later he returned, pulling on his coat.

Joe was waiting by the door with his duffel bag and a small cooler at his feet. Brent eyed the cooler curiously, but Joe didn't offer an explanation, just picked it up and slung the duffel bag over his shoulder.