Conor lucked out and found a spot at the curb around the corner from the bar. He cut through the alley toward the back door. Back to the bar. Back to work. But his mind was on Pat’s family.

All Conor wanted was a simple life. He’d always thought he’d end up like Pat, with a wife and kids and a cramped but happy house.

Barbara’s betrayal had floored him.

She’d come into the bar and pursued him with the single-minded focus of an alley cat chasing a rat. Why hadn’t he seen her true predatory nature? She’d been sexy, wild, and always eager for him. They’d spent most of that summer in his bed. Probably if the relationship had gone on, he’d have realized it was nothing but sex. But at the time, the overabundance of sex hadn’t promoted deep introspection.

Even more shocking than the husband walking into the bar and calmly informing Conor that he was sleeping with his wife was her reaction. Unwilling to compromise the lifestyle her wealthy husband provided, Barbara had broken it off with Conor with barely an it was fun while it lasted shrug.

Looking back on it now, with the perspective of time and distance, everything they’d had suddenly looked cheap and sleazy.

Conor hadn’t been tempted to start a new relationship since, until he’d met Louisa. Unfortunately, he might not have the time to find out what could happen between them. The police would get the test results back in a few more days. What would happen then? Would they arrest him? Did they even have any other serious suspects? And more importantly, was Zoe still alive?

CHAPTER 16

16

At this point in the game, my biggest concern was that someone would discover my captive. Though I’d have heard about it. An explosion would likely make the evening news.

After a careful cruise through the neighborhood, I parked the old sedan in front of the building. The streetlamp overhead was out, but the harvest moon shone from a clear sky, its faint orange tint casting a sepia glow over the desolate block. I hadn’t seen a single soul on my reconnaissance. The area was so empty the streets could be used as the set for an urban apocalypse film.

With gloved hands, I took my tool bag from the trunk and went inside, careful of the footing. After clicking on my flashlight, I edged my way to the stairwell. A board gave way under my shoe. With a quick grab, I spared myself an ankle-breaking plunge into the basement. At the top of the steps, I examined my trip wire. The booby trap was undisturbed. Removing the trip wire was delicate business. Finished, I descended.