4:37. The last time he’d checked it was 3:21. He groaned and turned back to his right side. On the floor beside the bed, Rusty stirred briefly in his sleep, but didn’t even raise his head. Charlie’s side of the bed was cold and empty. He missed her but it was probably just as well that she wasn’t home. He’d be keeping her awake with this constant tossing and turning.At five-thirty he gave up on sleep. Made his way into the kitchen and brewed a double strength, full pot of coffee. He rummaged in the breadbox and found two cinnamon rolls that had been there at least a week, but he didn’t care. He crammed one down before the coffee finished dripping and the other as soon as he had a full mug in his hand. He let the dog out, brought in the newspaper from the front porch, and tried to read it. No use. The headlines were meaningless and the rest of the small type just became a blur. He went, instead, to his computer and started a search, almost hoping that the results would contradict some of the data he’d studied last night.At five minutes to ten he placed the call to Valdez’s office.
