Chapter One

Joe stepped out of the pickup and slammed the door. He looked around the parking lot, his coarse black ponytail ruffled by the wind, shoulders tense underneath his plaid flannel jacket. His hand was closed so tightly over his keys that his knuckles showed pale in contrast to the weathered tan of his skin. He glanced at the lowering gray clouds then turned his gaze to the security guard, who nodded in recognition. Joe dropped the keys in his pocket, wiped his palms on his faded jeans and headed up the walkway leading to the office building.

He kept his head down until he came to the door, then wrenched it open as if it had given offense and should be ripped from its hinges as punishment. He clomped up two flights of stairs, the sound of his heavy work boots boots breaking the serenity of the silent workplace. On the third floor he strode down the hallway, passing offices without seeing them until he came to the suite at the end of the hall: Brent Conner, Vice President of Marketing.

He shoved open the door, startling the receptionist. Before she could react, he passed her desk and went into the office beyond, slamming the door behind him with a boom that made the window rattle.

Brent looked up from the papers and marketing drafts scattered across the desk. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then appeared to think better of it and shifted his features into a blank but vaguely helpful expression. Joe took a few grim steps toward him and Brent pushed himself away from the desk.

Joe kicked a guest chair out of the way. "Where's my wife?"

* * *

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Brent picked up a pen, fumbled with it, then dropped it on the papers and folders littering the desktop. "I knew she had asked for the day off."

"I'm sure you did."

"What's that supposed to mean? Of course I know when she takes time off. I'm her boss."

"That's not all you are." Joe leaned over the desk. "Don't bullshit me. You knew she was leaving, and you know where she went."

Brent stood up. "I swear, this is the first I've heard about it, and I don't appreciate you barging in here and accusing me." He spread his arms in a gesture of innocence. "She's probably running errands or getting her nails done. You know how women are."

Joe pulled a balled-up piece of paper out of his pocket and threw it at him. "Read that, then tell me you didn't know anything about it."

Brent smoothed the paper with trembling hands. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know."

Joe slammed his fist on the desk. "Quit lying to me."

"There's no need to make a scene."

Joe swept his arm across the desk, scattering papers, trays, pens, coffee cup and telephone onto the floor. "If you didn't want a scene, you should've thought about that before you got involved with Elise."

Brent grabbed for Joe's arm, but Joe was faster and had the more muscular build. He scrambled over the desk and shoved Brent against the wall. "Where is she? At the airport? The Greyhound station? Some cheap motel somewhere, waiting for you?"

"I swear to God, I don't know!"

"You sorry sack of shit. I'd kill you, but you aren't worth a prison sentence." He let go of Brent's sweater and threw open the office door. He mumbled an apology to the receptionist and stomped down the hall, ignoring the curious expressions of the denizens of the other offices, who had opened their doors at the commotion.

Joe had nearly reached the stairwell when he heard footsteps. He hurried down the stairs and slammed the door behind him, but it opened again almost immediately.

"Joe, wait up! I'm really sorry."

"You sure are." Joe kept his gaze focused on the walkway in front of him.

"I had no idea she would leave you."

"Keep your bullshit to yourself. Or better yet, tell it to your wife."

A pained look crossed Brent's face. "Let's not bring my wife into this."

"Of course not. We wouldn't want to do that."

"You know what I mean. She has nothing to do with this."

"Obviously."

"I want to know where Elise is as much as you do."

"I'm sure you do."

"Not like that. What was between us is over. I’m worried about her as a friend."

Joe stopped and looked him up and down, assessing his lanky build, cashmere sweater, expensive slacks and shoes, and his double-breasted wool overcoat, thrown on hastily and billowing in the wind. "Why don't you worry about your wife, okay? Stay out of my way, stay out of my life, and stay the hell out of my marriage."

Brent shook his head. "I should've known a guy like you wouldn't understand."

Joe began walking in the direction of the parking lot. "When a man fucks my wife, I understand all I need to."

Brent hurried after him. "It wasn't like that."

"That's not what she said."

"Well I don't mean we didn't...what I meant is that..."

"Shut up Conner, before I do something to you that'll land me in jail."

"I want to help you find her."

"You've already done enough."

Brent caught up with him and matched his stride. "You don't have to like me. You never did anyway, even though Elise tried to make us be friends. I don't expect you to forgive me for what happened. I don't even know if I forgive myself."

Joe grunted and shook his head.

"I've known that girl since college, and that's a lot longer than you. If anyone should know what goes on inside her head, I should. You need my help."

"I don't want it. What part of that don't you understand?" They stopped in front of the truck and he dug in his pocket for his keys.

Brent tried to make eye contact. Not getting it, he feigned unconcern. "Look for her on your own, then." He shoved his hands in his coat pockets. "I'm going to look for her too. If I locate her, I'll tell her to call you, but..." he shrugged, "I can't guarantee anything. You know how she can be."

Joe examined Brent's face, searching for clues as to the meaning of this new tactic.

"A few minutes ago you seemed pretty sure I knew where she was. If you really believe that, why would you let me out of your sight? I have connections and I can help, but I guess you aren't interested." Brent started back toward the office building. "Good luck!"

Joe watched him, a muscle in his jaw working. "Conner!"

Brent turned around.

Their eyes locked and a long moment passed. Finally Joe gestured toward his truck. "Are you coming or not?"