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Several minutes passed before he forced himself to turn the car around and head back to the crash scene.
 
Two officers remained at the site, supervising the tow truck which had the car on its platform.

     
He couldn't tear his eyes away from the bouncing pieces of curled metal sitting precariously on the truck bed.
 
His nostrils wouldn't let go of the horrible stench of burning flesh.
 
Even though he knew it would be several days before a positive identification could be made of the body, he needed to tell Angie.
 
He couldn't imagine her hearing it over the news.

     
When the truck turned into the station warehouse, Tom witnessed the removal of the wrecked vehicle and its placement inside the station warehouse.
 
He ordered a complete examination of the burned Porsche.

*****

     
Angie stared at the ceiling of the dark bedroom.
 
She wondered why she'd even bothered to get ready for bed.
 
No way could she sleep.
 
The painful suspicion that Bud might have left her kept crossing her mind, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it.
 
They'd been so happy together.
 
Tears rolled from the corners of her eyes onto her pillow.
 
"Oh, Bud, where are you?"

     
If he didn't show up for work, people would start calling the house.
 
What would she tell them?
 
She didn't know anything.
 
The thought frightened her, making her heart feel heavy.

     
She'd talk to Tom first thing in the morning.
 
Even though she knew he couldn't start a search for another couple of days, maybe he'd help her find a private detective.
 
She couldn't stand waiting any longer.
 
This decision had a calming effect and she slipped into a deep sleep.

     
At eight o'clock, a soft tap on the bedroom door awakened her.
 
She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair.
 
"Yes?"

     
"Mrs. Nevers, are you awake?"

     
"Come in."

     
Marty partially opened the door and poked her head inside.
 
"Detective Hoffman is here.
 
Says it's important.
 
He looks mighty serious.
 
Is something wrong?"

     
Angie jumped out of bed, grabbed her robe and dashed past her startled housekeeper.
 
"Bud's missing!"

     
Marty's hands went to her mouth and she followed Angie down the stairs.

     
Tom stood in the entry with his back to the stairwell.
 
Angie had just finished tying her robe when he turned to face her.
 
She knew something terrible had happened when she saw his somber eyes and the deep frown-lines etched in his face.
 
Silently, he took her arm, looped it around his and led her into the living room.

     
Angie heard his voice, but his words sounded distant and jumbled.
 
When she opened her eyes, they wouldn't focus.
 
Her vision finally cleared and she recognized Tom, with a soft damp cloth in his hand patting her forehead and cheeks.
 
He leaned forward from his seat on the ottoman and spoke softly in her ear.
 
"Marty's called Dr. Parker.
 
He should be here any minute."

     
She sat up on the couch and grabbed his arm.
 
"Tell me it's not true!"

     
He gently urged her back down to a lying position.
 
"Angie, all we know right now is the car that crashed could be Bud's.
 
It will take several days before a positive identification can be made.
 
We're only assuming it's Bud, because he's missing."

     
Her body rocked with sobs.
 
"It must be.
 
He never let anyone else drive that car."

     
Tom wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.
 
"We can still hope."

     
At that moment, Marty escorted Dr. Hank Parker into the room.
 
He'd been Angie's personal physician for years.
 
Tom moved back and the doctor sat down next to her.
 
"I just heard the news.
 
How are you doing?"

     
Angie shook her head and sobbed.

     
After checking her vital signs, he patted her arm.
 
"I can give you a shot to make you rest or if you'd rather, I'll leave some tranquilizers.
 
It will help you get through the rough spots."

     
She waved her hand.
 
"No shot.
 
Leave the pills with Marty."

     
Marty stood to one side, her hands clasping tightly at her waist.
 
Dr. Parker handed her a couple of packets and a prescription.
 
"Make sure she takes them for a day or two.
 
Call me if you see signs of abnormal depression."

     
She nodded.

*****

     
After Marty escorted the doctor to the door, she returned to the living room.
 
"Mr. Hoffman, would you help me get Angie up to her bedroom?
 
She should rest now."

     
"Of course."

     
With Tom on one side and Marty on the other, they walked Angie up the stairs to her room.
 
Then Tom pointed toward the bedside table.
 
"I think you should unplug that phone.
 
She doesn't need to be disturbed right now."

     
Marty agreed, knowing people from work would be calling soon enough.
 
She not only unplugged it, but took the phone with her when she left the room.
 
Tom followed her downstairs and into the kitchen.
 
After placing Angie's phone on the counter, she faced Tom.
 
"Can I get you a cup of coffee, Detective Hoffman?"

     
"No, thanks, I've got to get to work.
 
But before I leave, I'd like to ask you a question."

     
Marty raised a brow.
 
"What about?"

     
"Did you see Bud leave Saturday morning for his golf game?"

     
She shook her head.
 
"No, I didn't.
 
I always sleep in on Saturday mornings, but later Mrs. Nevers gave me the day off, so I went into town to visit some friends and shop."

     
Tom drummed his fingers on the table top in deep thought, then turned to leave.
 
"Thanks, Marty.
 
I'll talk to you later."

     
She walked him to the door and watched his car pull away.
 
Back in the kitchen, she glanced at the clock, then reached across the cabinet and took that phone off the hook.

     
Knowing Angie would need some nourishment when she woke up, Marty busied herself fixing her favorite biscuits.
 
When she pulled the flour canister toward her, she hesitated for a moment, then reached inside and removed a small bottle.
 
After taking a
 
long drag of the clear liquid, she capped it and put it back inside.

     
Her shoulders slumped and tears welled in her eyes as she sprinkled a handful of flour over a sheet of wax paper.
 
"Oh, Angie," she whispered, and shoved the flour canister back against the wall with a clatter.
 
She patted the dough onto the floured surface and viciously cut into it with a biscuit cutter.
 
"So many lies.
 
So many lies."

*****

     
Marty had closed the drapes in the bedroom, so when Angie opened her eyes in the dimly lit room, she felt confused.
 
She hated the drab darkness, but got up too quickly and felt the reeling effects of the tranquilizer, forcing her to fall back on the edge of the bed.
 
She held her head in her hands until the room quit spinning, then she slowly ventured to the window and pulled open the heavy curtains, letting the light flood the room.
 
It must be close to noon, she thought, noticing the sun's position and the short shadows outside.

     
When she turned away, her gaze fell on the glittering-gold frame of their wedding picture.
 
A wave of weakness surged through her and a lump formed in her throat.
 
Fighting for self-control, she held onto the bedpost.
 
If she let her emotions take over she might never gain control again.
 
Soon the wretched shaking of her insides subsided.
 
She took a long hot shower, dressed and went downstairs.
 
The smell of baking bread met her nostrils as she entered the kitchen.

     
Marty glanced at her wide-eyed and hurried to her side.
 
"Mrs. Nevers, are you all right?"

     
Angie hugged her.
 
"Not really, but with your help, I'll make it."

     
Marty pulled away, her eyes cast downward.
 
"You need to eat to keep up your strength.
 
I'll fix you something."

     
Angie only picked at her food, but did get down a couple of her favorite biscuits.
 
She scooted her plate out of the way and glanced at Marty.
 
"Has anyone called?"

     
"No, ma'm.
 
I've unplugged all the phones."

     
"Well, we have to face this, so you might as well put them all back on.
 
I definitely don't want to miss any calls from Tom Hoffman.
 
There's a possibility that the remains they pulled from that car aren't Bud's."

     
Marty shot a look at her, then walked over and put her arm around Angie's shoulders.
 
"Mrs. Nevers, you haven't heard from him in two days.
 
You know he never let anyone drive that car.
 
So, please, don't set your hopes too high.
 
It will do nothing but make you ill."

     
Angie reached up and held on to Marty's hand while fighting the welling tears.
 
"I know, but someone might have stolen the Porsche and left him tied up somewhere.
 
There are all sorts of possibilities.
 
Until we know for sure, I won't give up hope that he's still alive."

     
Marty dropped her arm from around Angie and went to the sink where she busied herself rinsing dishes.

     
Angie crossed the room to the patio door and stared out the wide window.
 
She imagined the blackened Porsche and hugged herself, her throat constricted as she whispered.
 
"Dear God, please, don't let it be Bud."

Chapter Five

     
Later that afternoon, the receptionist ushered Tom into Ken Weber's empty office.
 
She left, assuring him that she would locate Mr. Weber immediately.
 
Clasping his hands behind his back, Tom glanced around the office.
 
He didn't feel comfortable in this chrome and glass setting.
 
Sure different from Bud's, which had a rustic oak and leather style that put you at ease the minute you walked in.

     
He paced, then stopped in front of the window and stared at the hills in the distance.
 
Turning when Ken walked in with a somber expression, he extended his hand.

     
"Hello, Tom.
 
Any news?"
 
Ken motioned toward the chair in front of his desk.

     
"No.
 
Too early," Tom said, taking the seat.

     
Ken sat down behind his desk and shook his head.
 
"I still can't believe it.
 
Bud knew those roads like the back of his hand.
 
Why would he speed around that dangerous curve?"