When Joe was finished with his coffee, he walked over to Bee to say good-bye. He thanked her for a memorable evening. His niece giggled into his chest as they hugged tightly. “It was memorable for me too.”

Richard then walked over to shake Joe’s hand, and Donna, who still sat at the table, smiled at him. Joe considered that a victory.

It was a partially misty morning, making Annapolis look like the nautical paintings that hung around the country club’s lobby. This was Joe’s favorite weather for a long drive, no glare from the sun, no rain to make it slippery. He kept the windows open before he got onto the highway so he could enjoy the breeze for at least a few minutes. Las Vegas was rarely cool enough for open windows. He was seldom exposed to real outdoor air. In the windowless buildings where he spent most of his days, he breathed the frigid hotel air-conditioning that pumped through the casinos twenty-four hours a day.

Joe sighed and turned up the radio as he merged onto Route 50, a light breeze ruffling the collar of his jacket.

He turned the dial to the first pop station he could find so he would be moderately schooled in today’s Top 40 by the time he saw his daughter. He was convinced that she might like him more if he knew at least a few contemporary songs.

Rob

Rob had been waiting at least ten minutes for the couple in front of him to check out. The woman, a petite blonde who wore her hair in a tightly pinned bun, had already yelled at her husband twice, first to reprimand him for waking up late and then about his diet. “Egg whites!” she’d barked at him. “Especially after what you ate last night.”

The woman’s shrill voice aggravated his dull headache.

Once the couple moved out of the way, Rob said to the young man at the counter, “I’m looking for Hannah Martin’s room.”

The desk clerk eyed Rob suspiciously, his eyes drifting to the blood stains on Rob’s shirt. “Sir,” the clerk responded, his voice short, “we don’t give out the room numbers of our guests.”

“But she is staying here?” Rob asked. “I wasn’t sure I had the right place. All these historic inns look the same.”

This clerk narrowed his eyes and placed his hand on the receiver of a phone on the counter, as if he might be about to call the police.

Rob understood that he probably did look like an abusive boyfriend searching for his girlfriend in hiding. He smiled at the nervous hotel clerk and took a step back, wondering if he should wait for Hannah outside.

“Excuse me,” the woman with the shrill voice interrupted. She stood to the side of him with her husband and luggage. “Who are you?” she asked Rob, grinning as she continued. “How do you know Hannah?”