He reached out and grasped her by the shoulders. “For god’s sake, Glyn! You’re dealing with the people who run Las Vegas! They know how to deal with dead bodies. They know how to make dead bodies!”

She shrugged out of his grip. “Jake, I’m frightened enough as it is. You don’t have to scare me more than I’m already scared.”

“Don’t go to Vernon!”

“I’m going.” There wasn’t a shred of doubt in her voice, not a scintilla of hesitation. Jake saw that her mind was made up.

And so was his.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“That Jaguar of yours might get temperamental again. We’ll go in my car.”

Glynis smiled at him.

Confessions

CONFESSIONS

Jake drove home, spent the night telling himself he was an idiot, then drove back and picked up Glynis before either one of them had eaten breakfast. They headed out toward Vernon, the convertible’s top down, the warm morning wind feeling good on their faces. The day was bright and clear, the sky a nearly cloudless blue.

“I’m not hungry,” she said when he suggested they stop at an IHOP on the interstate.

“Neither am I,” he admitted. Too nervous to be hungry, he realized. Too scared. Too …

Without taking his attention off the eighteen-wheelers whooshing past them, Jake raised his voice above the noise of the wind and asked, “How serious are you and Tim?”

Out of the corner of his eye Jake saw her blink with surprise.

“I know it’s none of my business, but—”

“We’re friends, Jake. A woman can have male friends without having a romance, you know.”

He had to struggle to keep from smiling. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Tim’s already married.”

“He is?”

“To that machine of his. The generator.”

“Oh.”

“Besides, he’s not my type.”

Jake started to ask what her type might be, but stopped himself. You might not like the answer, he told himself.

They drove in silence for miles. The traffic thinned out and Jake put the Mustang on cruise control.

Turning toward him, Glynis said, “Jake … that night … when Arlan was killed and I was so upset…”

The night I stayed over at your place, Jake remembered.

“You said you knew what it was like to lose someone you love.”

“My wife,” Jake said, feeling that old hollow void inside. “She was killed in an auto accident. About a year ago, little more. Nearly two years, come to think of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“I shouldn’t have pried.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I met Louise in high school. She was the most popular girl in the school—and she fell for me!”

“Why not?”

Shaking his head at the memories, Jake said, “I was the luckiest guy in the world. And then … and then, all of a sudden, she was gone.”