Once he was on the road, he dialed Liza’s number again. This time it rang a few times before going to voice mail. Which meant she’d directed it there. Which still stung, but at least she was actively involved in avoiding him, so that meant she was okay.

He hoped. He needed to know. Using the SUV’s handsfree, he dialed Irina’s number, hoping she’d be more helpful than she’d been earlier in the day.

“Yes, Tom?” she answered, sounding like his mother before she’d grounded him as a kid.

“Just tell me if she’s all right.” There were voices in the background. It seemed they were having fun. He listened hard for Liza’s voice, but then Irina spoke again.

“Hold on.” A minute later the background noise became hushed. “She is fine.”

Tom sighed in relief, then tensed. “Who is she with?”

“I am not TMZ, Agent Hunter. I do not give out titillating sound bites and call them facts.”

“Titillating?” He frowned. “What’s titillating? Who’s with her?” Don’t be Mike the Groper. Please don’t be Mike the Groper. “Is it that Mike the Groper?” Dammit.

Irina coughed, but had clearly covered a laugh. “Mike the Groper?”

Tom’s cheeks flamed. “Well, is he with her?”

Irina sighed. “I think you should talk to Liza.”

“She keeps sending my calls to voice mail. Where is she?”

“That, I will not tell you. If she doesn’t wish to see you, I will respect that. I’d do the same for you.”

“I know,” Tom grumbled. “Will you at least tell her that I’m sorry that I shouted at her? I was worried and . . . well, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, you really shouldn’t have. I’ll tell her. I have to go now. Good night, Tom.”

Tom ended the call, frustrated. He didn’t know where Liza was and who she was with, which sucked. At least he knew that she was all right. Wherever she was.

She’ll calm down in time, he told himself. She’d come back.

But as what? As a friend, he told himself firmly, although the words no longer felt right.

And if she never did? The prospect of a life without Liza wasn’t something he could even think about. Every aspect of the life he’d built since coming to Sacramento was tied to Liza.

Everything but his job. Which he’d now go home to do.

GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

THURSDAY, MAY 25, 10:15 P.M.

“Thank you,” Liza said, hugging Karl Sokolov first, then Irina as she walked them to her new front door. “You guys are insane, letting me have this place until July.” The posh apartment was one that Karl made available to clients visiting his marketing firm. “This is the nicest place I’ve ever lived.”

The poshest, at any rate. The nicest place she’d ever lived was the place she’d left that morning, and she was already homesick.

“This place sits empty most of the time,” Karl said. “I’m glad someone is using it.”