“Wherever zealots gather, there’s always the potential for violence. That’s what’s got the FBI sitting up and taking notice. There’s some suspicion that they burned down a ski lodge under construction a few years ago, but no solid proof.” She opened the trunk of her ugly-ass car and invited Jonathan to load his bags into it.
“You couldn’t have brought the Hummer?”
“I hate that big thing. Talk about monstrosities. You’re free to take a cab if you’d like.” She walked toward the driver’s side.
Jonathan had to laugh. He always said he liked independent thinkers, and in Venice, he got that with plenty to spare. He filled the trunk with one duffel, and had to thread the other one into the space the Mazda people had the guts to call a backseat. He’d worn shirts that were bigger than the front seat.
He’d just stuffed the second bag in when a familiar voice called from across the parking lot, “Jon!”
A quick look across the lines of cars confirmed that he recognized the voice. He shot an annoyed glare at Venice.
“Oh yeah,” she said in a tone more suitable to seeing a pustule than a person. “Ellen called. She needs help from you. But I swear to God, Digger, is you fall for another of her-”
Jonathan shut her down and turned to meet his ex-wife halfway as she navigated the last three rows of cars. He extended his arms for a hug. She allowed herself to be enfolded. “What a wonderful surprise,” he said, his voice dripping irony. “You’re finally coming back to me.”
“Oh, Jon, I’m so frightened.”
He broke the embrace and eased her away to arm’s length. “Of what?”
She scowled and glared past his shoulder at Venice. “She didn’t tell you?”
He followed her gaze. “Who? Venice? Tell me what?”
“I’ve been trying nonstop to reach you since yesterday.”
Taking the mention of her name as an invitation to join, Venice stepped up.
“Is that true?” Jonathan asked. “Has Ellen been trying to reach me?”
Venice planted her fists on her hips. “Don’t take that tone. You’ve been on the ground for all of five minutes.”
He turned back to Ellen. “What is it, then?”
From the corner of his eye he saw Venice assume body language that said, “Wait till you hear this.”
“Tibor’s missing,” Ellen said.
Jonathan smiled. “And you wanted to deliver the wonderful news in person. How thoughtful.”
Venice sniggered, earning a withering glare from the ex.
“Must she stay?” Ellen snapped.
“I already told her,” Venice explained, “that we don’t drop everything to search for someone who’s been missing for only a day.”
Jonathan looked to Ellen for confirmation.
Her shoulders sagged and her eyes pleaded. “Please, Jon. There are extenuating circumstances.”
Tibor Rothman was a certified prick, dedicated to making Jonathan’s life as difficult as possible. It was’m just really, really scared.”
“About Tibor?”
“I should have heard from him by now,” she said. She sniffed to regain control of her voice. “He always calls when he goes away.”
“Has it really been less than twenty-four hours?”
She looked at the clock on the dash. “Not anymore. Almost thirty.”
Jonathan knew he needed to be careful here. His hatred of Tibor was stratospheric, but he didn’t want that to cloud the sensibility of what he was about to say. “Isn’t it a little silly to push the panic button when he’s only been out of your sight for a day?”
“He’s been out of my sight for three days,” she corrected. “Almost four.” She turned her head to address Jonathan directly. “He’s religious about calling in. He does it every single day. Except yesterday. And today.”
Jonathan shifted his gaze to watch the road for her. “Is there reason to suspect foul play?”
“You know what he does for a living. He reports stories that anger people.”
“What he does is hardly reporting,” Jonathan scoffed. “Ruining people’s lives isn’t the stuff of Pulitzers.”
“I know you don’t like him-”
“Imagine that.”
“But he’s a good man.”
“He’s a thief and a liar.”
Ellen started to argue, then settled herself. “Is that what you need me to say to get you to help me?” she begged. “Okay, he’s a thief and a liar and a very bad man. And I love him.”
The words cut deeper than he’d expected.
“I know that’s not what you want to hear, Jon. And I don’t want to hurt you. But I’m desperate.”
“Still, we’re talking about so little time. Where has he been?”
“Covering a story. I don’t know what kind, or what the topic is. I never do. Apparently I’m only attracted to men who insist on shielding their lives from me.”
Jonathan smiled at the irony. “Here’s the thing, Ellen,” he began, silently praying that he sounded earnest and reasonable. “Adults have the right to take time off for themselves. As long as they pay their bills and they don’t abandon their children, they’re free to take protracted vacations without telling anyone. Seventy-two hours is thought to be the minimum time that an adult be gone before anyone even begins to take an interest.”
“But this isn’t a vacation.”
“It’s a job. A story.”
She shook her head vehemently. “Not this time. It’s more than that. He’s been…stressed.”
He pointed up ahead. “You see those brake lights, right?”
Rather than slowing, she chose to swerve around the backup in the right-hand turn lane, and maybe even sped up a little to make the light.
“Are you worried that he had a heart attack or wrecked his car or something?”
She gave him a fearful look.
“If that’s the case, then he’s sure to turn up. He’ll check into a hospital, or somebody will find him.” That last part slipped out before he could stop it. Ellen never had been one for bluntness. “Look, I don’t mean to sound cr that’s not really your concern, is it?”
Her posture straightened. “What are you implying?”
“I’m implying the obvious,” Jonathan said. “Fidelity isn’t exactly his long suit. Your relationship is living testament to his willingness to break up a marriage.”
She made that puffing sound that always used to spin him up. “He did not break up our marriage, Jon. You broke up our marriage by never being married.”
“Hey, at least I was always faithful.”
She coughed out a laugh. “To the Unit, not to me.”
He felt color rising in his cheeks. “I never screwed around on the side. I never would do that.”
Ellen glared at him again. “Fidelity isn’t just about sex. It’s about emotional commitment.”
Jonathan let it go. He’d taken full responsibility for their breakup a long time ago, and it had long been a source of great shame. There was no sense in scraping the scab off the barely healed wound. “My point remains,” he said. “Ninety percent of the time these adult missing persons turn out to be Exhibit One in a divorce.”
Ellen softened, too. “Tibor’s not like that. Not anymore. He wouldn’t just walk out on me like that.”
Saint Tibor. “So what’s left?” Jonathan asked. “If he’s not cheating on you and you’re not worried about him lying dead in a ditch, what are you worried about?”
Her race to make the next light failed, and she stood on the brakes to get the Mercedes stopped at the line. “He’s been different lately. Just in the last week or so. Anxious, I guess.”
“Good anxious or scared anxious?”
“A little of both. He’s been consumed by this story. When I asked him what it was about, all he’d say was that it was big, and that I’d be proud of him when he was done. Then, when he left, he just disappeared. He called me from the office to chat as he walked to the post office to mail something, and another call came in. I got tired of sitting on hold so I hung up. Next time I heard from him he said he was out of town, but he didn’t want to tell me
