While he waited for the commodore to answer, his fingers danced over the keyboard. Maybe the aircraft still had something. He watched as sonar signals from the sonobuoy fields, downlinked from the circling P-3C, scrolled across his screen. Nothing but snow. The bastard couldn’t just disappear. He was out there somewhere and Stroud vowed he would find him again.

Charlie Gruver eased his old Honda across two lanes to get to the freeway exit. Traffic was heavy for a late morning out in the country. Must be people heading into the Poconos for some late-season skiing. A huge red, white, and blue sign rose high above the trees, advertising the truck stop up ahead. A quick left at the top of the ramp and he was in the parking lot. He steered the little car between a row of big rigs and found a parking spot a couple of rows back from the door to the restaurant.

Tractor-trailers were gathered around the fuel pumps or sat idling in the big parking apron in back. Twenty or so passenger cars were parked in the lot. Gruver glanced around and quickly discounted the cars he could see as holding any threat to Catherine. Out-of-state plates and family groups of vacationers.

He walked into the restaurant and found a booth. The place was half-full, mostly truckers and families taking a break from the road. No one looked up or paid him the slightest attention. There was not a sign of Catherine Goldman. She said she was hiding in the ladies’ restroom. A good place for her to hide, but tough for him.

A middle-aged waitress stopped at his booth.

“What you havin,’ hon?” She had an easy, friendly tone.

“Just coffee.”

“How you want it?”

“Black.”

She leaned in closer. Just above a whisper, she asked, “Your name Gruver?”

He looked up, startled by the question. “Yeah, why?”

She raised an eyebrow, checked to make sure no one was close enough to hear her, and answered, “Lady in back said to watch for a tall, blond guy. New York City accent. Said you would order black coffee.”

“Where is she?”

The waitress shrugged. “Just wait here. She’s in bad shape.” She put her fists down on the table and looked him in the eye. “I had me a husband once who beat me and liked to play mind games. She tells me you been doin’ anything like that, I’ll kick your ass.”

Gruver held up his hands in surrender. “Nothing like that. Just a friend helping a friend in trouble.”

She was gone. Five minutes later, she was back with his coffee.

“Wait a couple of minutes, then head toward the men’s room. Take the door on the left just beyond it. Sign says ‘Employees Only.’ Got it?”

“Yeah, got it.”

“Sorry about comin’ down hard. Girl can’t be too careful anymore.”

“Not a problem. Catherine’s a special person. Really appreciate you helping.”