Chapter Six

"So who is this Sylvia Lobo?" Joe asked. His eyes were focused on the road, which was barely visible in the driving rain.

Brent adjusted his seatbelt. "She's a friend from our college days-- one of those girls who was born to get up to something. She would go to the punk clubs and get down in the pit with the guys, deliver a few bruises and bloody noses, then laugh about it. She was tough."

Joe's eyebrows flickered. "What's her relation to Elise? Doesn't sound like the type she'd be friends with."

Brent shrugged. "They hit it off for some reason. Elise had a pretty strict upbringing, always studying and practicing her ballet. I think she was ready for something different, and you couldn't get more different than Sylvia. Those two were game for anything. Sometimes it was just typical college kid stuff like having an all-night tequila party, but they could be scary too. There was one night Sylvia came after me with a hammer, thinking I was putting moves on Elise. Elise had just been through a bad breakup and I sort of had a reputation in those days. Sylvia didn't want to see her friend get hurt again, and she was ready to do some damage."

"I suppose you were completely innocent."

"Yes, actually," Brent said. "In that particular instance I was."

"Give me a break. Elise told me you were voted by your frat 'Most Likely to get the Clap.'"

Brent turned around in his seat. "I was a little out of control in those days, but one thing I didn't do was go after wounded prey. Elise was safe with me, and she knew it. That's why she hung around."

"And that's why Sylvia tried to kick your ass?"

Brent faced front again. "She was messed up that night. She apologized later."

Joe stared at the taillights of the cars ahead. "What do you think Elise wants with Sylvia after all this time? Just a place to crash?"

"Maybe. What worries me is that Sylvia always had good connections. Anything you wanted, from cheap cigs to drugs to fake ID, she could get it for you."

"You think she still knows how to get ID? That might make things harder for us if she does."

"I don't know. It's been a long time."

"Maybe Sylvia has settled down, like Elise did." Joe frowned as the rain, which had been coming down steadily, beat harder against the windshield.

Brent shook his head. "I don't see Sylvia ever going completely legit. She dislikes conformity on principle. The only reason she even went to college was to get her parents off her back." He cast a quick look in Joe's direction. "And I'd hardly say Elise settled down."

"What are you talking about?" Joe's voice took on an edge. "Elise is a very smart, sensible woman."

"She's a tough girl and can take care of herself, but you haven't known her as long as I have."

"She's my wife. I think I know her better than anybody."

Brent scoffed. "That's why you had no clue she was fooling around."

Joe returned his attention to the road, staring at the rain with such intensity that it looked like he might part the clouds with his glare.

"I should've seen something like this coming," Brent confessed. "Once a runaway, always a runaway."

"What do you mean by that? She was never a runaway."

"Not in the sense that she was a teenage truant or anything, but this is her modus operandi. It's how she deals with problems."

Joe snorted. "You don't know what you're talking about. And stick with speaking English, okay? You aren't going to make me like you any better by showing off your fancy education."

"I wasn't showing off."

"Bullshit you weren't."

"I'm telling you-- oh, fuck it." Brent turned his face to the window and pretended to be absorbed in what little of the passing scenery was visible through the curtains of rain.

The two continued down the highway in silence for several minutes. Finally Joe spoke. "So what do you mean when you say Elise deals with problems by running away?"

Brent gave a little shrug and continued staring out the window. "It's how she's always lived. When she had problems with her parents, she moved in with her aunt. When the aunt was too strict, she insisted she be allowed to live at the ballet academy dorms. She was disciplined enough to make it into the junior chorus, but when the ballet politics got to be too much, she bailed. In college she jumped from major to major; I've always been surprised she was able to get a degree out of that hodgepodge that even she admitted wasn't much of an education."

"You're talking about her younger years," Joe scoffed. "I hate to break it to you, but she's a grown woman."

"She hasn't grown out of it. Look at her career, the way she changed jobs every time the work got too boring or the management got too difficult to deal with. Look at the way she's squandered her talents. Every time she starts to show real promise at something, she stops doing it and does something else-- dancing, painting, and now graphics. I'm telling you her whole life has been about running away from things. Then she rushes into some new situation that she thinks will solve everything. Why do you think she mar--"

"Why do I think she what?"

"Nothing."

"Why do I think she married me?"

Brent turned and looked at him. "Yeah. Why do you think she married you?"

"Because she loves me." Joe's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "She may have been fooling around, but it wasn't because she didn't care. I don't know what it was, but it wasn't that."

"No," Brent admitted. "But she doesn't love you the way you think she does."

Joe frowned. "Either you love a person or you don't. What's your point?"

"Nothing," Brent sighed. "You wouldn't get it." He bit his lip and feigned great interest in his watch.

"What time is it?"

"Almost eleven." Brent leaned his head against the windowpane. He closed his eyes and remained still for so long that he gave the impression he had fallen asleep. Finally, he spoke. "So if you don't think she's running away from something she can't deal with, what do you think all this is about?"

The downpour had turned into a sprinkle, and Joe increased his speed. "This afternoon, I felt sure you had tricked her into running off with you."

"No one can trick Elise into anything," Brent said edgily. "She's smarter than that. And I hope you still don't think I have anything to do with this."

"No," Joe admitted. "I don't."

"So you have no other ideas why she might've left?"

"She seemed a little moody lately, but not unhappy. She liked her job, no money or legal problems I'm aware of. Our home life was good, except she was cheating on me, of course. I can't think of any other reason for her to leave unless it was to be with you. She wasn't in any kind of trouble."

"You found out about her and me. That's trouble."

"I forgave her. It's you I wanted to do something to, and maybe I still will. But I love Elise. I told her I loved her no matter what."

"Maybe she couldn't handle your forgiveness. She hates it when people fawn over her."

Joe's shoulders stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about, but when I find her, I'll ask why she left, and then I'll know."

"If she's willing to talk. If we even find her."

"We'll find her." Joe motioned toward the cooler at Brent's feet. "Hand me one of those."

Brent opened the cooler and passed him a beer.

Joe started to take a sip, then paused. "Take one for yourself, too. That is, if you're not too well-bred to drink plain old beer."

Ignoring the insult, Brent took out a bottle and twisted off the cap. "If nothing else, I'll be curious to find out what she wants with Sylvia, of all people."

Joe took a long pull at his beer and ran the back of his hand across his mouth. "Is there any other reason she'd get in touch with her, besides her connections?"

"I can't think of anything, unless like you said, maybe she was just looking for a cheap place to crash so she can save all that money she took for whatever she plans to do next."

Joe shook his head. "I don't like this."

Brent took a sip of his beer. "Neither do I."

A clap of thunder jolted the air and a streak of lightening turned the landscape white. The clouds opened up, dumping torrents of rain. Joe hit the brakes, his visibility reduced to a few feet beyond the bumper. The windshield wipers pumped furiously, the headlights illuminating white sheets of rain. "This keeps up, we may have to pull over and wait it out."

"Might not be a bad idea. I can't see a thing."

"What time is it now?"

Brent pulled back the cuff of his coat and glanced at his watch. "Eleven-thirty."

"We should be farther along by now," Joe said. "I don't want to show up at Sylvia's place and find everyone asleep."

"Not much chance of that, if she's up to anything like her old tricks. That girl juggles a 24-hour operation, people coming and going all hours."

Joe set his hazard lights and navigated through the driving rain onto the shoulder. "That's good to know," he said, "Because we won't be getting there before one or two o'clock."

"Shouldn't bother Sylvia a bit." Brent leaned against the window and closed his eyes as if to sleep. "It'll probably irritate the hell out of Elise, though, if she's there."

Joe killed the engine then settled back in his seat and stretched out his legs. "That's a chance we'll have to take."