This was no professional study session.
. . . A thud on the window roused him from his memories. He was out of the past but still in the closet--a strange woman's closet. He peered through the slats in the louvered doors. Outside, the wind had kicked up again. A tree branch thrashed against the bedroom window. Nothing to be concerned about. Still, he chastised himself in silence. Too much at stake to let the mind drift away, especially into the past. He opened his eyes widely and stared toward the hallway, thinking only of the future. The immediate future.
When it would be better than videotape.
Chapter Twenty-Four.
Gus returned home after dinnertime. Morgan was in her room with one of her friends. -Carla had invited her over. A good move, anything to take Morgan's focus off any child's worst fear. He knocked on her door and popped his head into the room. "Hi."
She looked up from her computer. She and her friend were trying out a new dinosaur CD-ROM. "Hi, Daddy." "Who's your friend?"
"This is Hannah." Her eyes were telling. That he had to ask only reinforced the uncomfortable note he had left on this morning. "She's my best friend."
"Hi," she peeped.
"Hi, Hannah."
They stared back in silence. Gus felt decidedly unwelcome. He backed out awkwardly. "Well, you two have fun."
He closed the door. Even the simple exchanges were going badly. He slipped off his jacket and headed for the kitchen.
Carla was in the family room watching television on the big sixty-inch screen. One of those mindless magazine shows. Hard Edition or some such thing, where Armaniclad journalists ask megastars the really probing questions like, "Are you incredibly excited about your new movie?"
He got a beer from the refrigerator and leaned on the granite counter facing the family room. Carla remained glued to the television.
"I hired a private investigator today."
' She switched off the TV with the remote control. "You did?"
"Spent most of the day with him."
"Are you unhappy with the job the police are doing?"
He opened the bottle, took a sip. "Honestly, they seem to have written her off for dead. I want to make sure they're not jumping to conclusions."
"You mean you're coming around to my first thought--that she left you?"
"I'm not ruling it out, though it does seem remote. Even if she was as unhappy as you say, that doesn't explain the way she left, leaving Morgan without a ride at the youth center, leaving without her purse or credit cards. It's all pretty confusing."
"And you think a private investigator can sort it out?"
"No one seems to have a clue where she might have gone. I'm beginning to think maybe someone is covering for her. If that's the case, I'm hoping the private investigator can help."
"I hope so, too."
He nodded, then set his half-empty beer bottle on the counter. "Carla, did you know Beth had an eating disorder?"
She recoiled, but only slightly. The question didn't seem to floor her. "Didn't you?"
"No. How long did she have it?"
"About as long as you've made her feel insecure, I guess."
"What did I ever do to make her feel so insecure?" "You're the only one who can answer that."
"Did she ever say anything to you?"
"Lots of things."
"Anything specific? Anything she seemed preoccupied with?"
"Yeah. Two words. Martha Goldstein."
He went cold, recalling Martha's words in his office--the way Beth had shunned her at the firm Christmas party. "I was never unfaithful to Beth. Not with Martha, not with anyone."
"That's not the way Beth saw it."
"What did she tell you?"
"She didn't show me any photographs of you and Martha in compromising positions, if that's what you're wondering. And that's not what bugged her anyway. To be honest with you, I think she could have found a way to forgive you if you'd gotten drunk, lost your head and pulled a one-night stand with some woman you didn't care about. What she couldn't stand was the long, painful death. And it has to be painful, watching your husband slowly fall in love with another woman."
"I'm not in love with Martha Goldstein," he said with frustration.
"Maybe not. But somewhere along the line you fell out of love with Beth."
"I've always loved Beth. I still love her. If she doubted that, she should have talked to me about it."
"If you didn't hear her throwing up, I guess she figured you weren't listening."
Gus was looking at Carla but didn't really see her. He was really looking inside himself, seeing things he didn't like.
"I'm beat. I'm going to go lie down before dinner."
"All I made was soup and Jell-O. It's in the fridge. Morgan's tooth is still bothering her. She likes chicken soup and Jell-O when she's sick. Cherry."
All the little things he didn't know about Morgan. The thought of having to learn them from Carla had him feeling not so good himself. "Guess I'll just order a pizza or something. You eat yet?"
"No, but I need to get home. You think you can handle things on your own tonight?"