Instead of trying to hide it, he admitted, “Meeting the family is never an easy thing.”
“How many families have you met?”
Gina stomped her foot on the living room floor. “Martin! What kind of question is that?”
“It slipped out.”
“I don’t know,” Paul said, with a nervous smile. “A couple, I suppose. I guess not enough, that’s why I’m uncomfortable.”
Martin chuckled. “Relax. I’m just messing with you.” The tension in the room fell a notch or two. “Come on into the kitchen. I think Mom’s just about finished with the salads.”
For the next hour, the Campbell family sat at the kitchen table, completely engrossed in the stories Paul told of his adventures in the mountains. Except for the occasional question—during one of which he tightened his ponytail—he talked uninterrupted.
By the time lunch was over, Martin had counted four stories that included rain or snow, two that began with Paul getting lost, and one that could have (but luckily hadn’t) ended with a bear attack.
“Let me just say how glad I am that we got away from that beast unharmed,” Paul said. “I’d much rather be here with you guys than six feet under somewhere.”
“That’s nice of you to say,” Martin’s mom said.
Gina rubbed his knee, lovingly winked at him.
At the same time Martin was clearing the dishes, and in a drab, dingy apartment building not too far away, Ethan slammed his fist against Dallas’s door.
“I know you got to be in there!” Ethan shouted. “The chick down at Starlight told me you were here! Open up! I need to ask you something!”
Locks crunched. The door squeaked open.
“Don’t shout,” Dallas said, his hair a mess and his eyes baggy. “I’ve got neighbors.” He looked like he had been up all night.
“Can I come in?”
“Look, you got a problem with the ID I sold you? Too bad. That’s not how this works.”
“No, it’s perfect. I’ve got another job for you, though.”
Dallas opened the door wider and moved out of the way. After closing it behind them, he put a finger over his mouth, telling Ethan to be quiet. A quick pat-down revealed no hidden mike, no weapon. “What do you need?”
“I need you to locate somebody for me.”
“Who?”
“How much will you charge?”
“It depends on how much you already know.”
“I know his name,” Ethan said, stepping over computer wires and sitting down in a swivel chair. He was now able to see one of the computer screens Dallas had recently been using; but before he could read anything on it, Dallas pressed a button to turn it off.
“That’s all?”
“I know the names of his ex-wife and son.”
“That’s something, but—”
“And I’ve got this.” He pulled out the stolen photograph.
Dallas took it from him and examined it closely. “It’s old. Fifteen, twenty years, it looks like.”
“That’s about right.”
“That’s the ex and their kid, I bet, huh?”
“Can you find him?”
Dallas pointed at the boy. “Is that you?”
“No.”
He dropped the picture onto a nearby keyboard. “Can I ask why you’re looking for him?”
“It’s for a friend.”
“Whatever. Sure.”
“Can you find him or not?”
Dallas sat down on an old corduroy sofa against the window. “I can find him.”
“How much will it cost?”
Dallas quoted an hourly rate.
“You can’t be any more specific?”
“Sorry, man. It’s a common name. I’ll do the best I can, that’s all I can tell you.”
Ethan put his hands on his hips, dropped his head. He paced a couple of steps forward and then back. “Fine.”
He still preferred Dallas to any of the other investigators he’d called.
“The picture, though—that’s going to help.”
“That’s why I brought it,” Ethan said. Then he told Dallas that he’d be back in a few days for an update and left.
NOW
MUSCLES SORE, ETHAN was about ready to give up when he looked around and had another idea. There was a rock over that way that might be sharp enough to grind through the laces. He squirmed toward it and went to work.
THEN
MARTIN REMEMBERED OVER beers with Ethan that he still had the key to Diane’s apartment in his glovebox.
“What’s it doin’ in there?” Ethan asked.
Martin pretended he hadn’t heard the question. He didn’t want to answer it. He didn’t want to say that when they were together, he’d kept her key in the glove box because he didn’t want to be reminded of her all the time. Every time he went into his house or started his car, he didn’t want her face coming to mind. Who needed that?
Instead, he said, “I should go drop this off. I don’t want to hold onto that thing any longer than I have to.”
“Drop it off? What for? Just toss it.”
Martin shook his head. “If I don’t return it, sooner or later, she’ll come around asking about it.” He stood up.
“You’re going now?”
“Like I said—”
“Yeah, ‘sooner or later,’ I got it.” Ethan finished his beer and stood as well. “I guess if you’re going, I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Of course I don’t. Let’s go.”
The four-story building where Diane lived was on Wideland Avenue, and part of a sizeable complex called Night Forest. Manicured shrubs and scattered trees surrounded the perimeter of the property.
“Building D,” Ethan said, looking at the large letter on the upper-right corner of the building. Then he turned to Martin, who had already removed the key from the glove box and was holding it—cupped in his hands and staring down at it. “You want me to run it up?”
“I’ll do it.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“It’s just I ain’t so sure you should be seeing that bitch right now.”
“I won’t see her. I’ll leave it under the matt.”
“What if she’s outside? Or what if she opens the door while you’re leaving it and she catches you? Then what?”
“I guess I’ll hand her the key and walk away.”
“I’d better go with you anyway. For backup.”
Ethan
