Lila slowed to a near stop on the icy country road and checked the business card and her county map again. Sure, she felt foolish, driving out to his house at dawn on a Sunday morning, but between six and six-thirty that morning she’d worked herself up into a real case of the worries, especially when he hadn’t answered his phone for the fourth time. The man had said he was falling in love with her. He’d said, “Call me.” He hadn’t mentioned anything about disappearing off the face of the earth. Slick roads, a moonless night, below-freezing temperatures . . . She’d thought of them all. Anything could have happened to him, the same way something had happened to Danny. She wanted to check on him, make sure he was in one piece. Then she’d return home and go back to bed. A windbreak of pines pinpointed a house on a ridge, and she knew it had to be his. There was nothing else for miles around. As she drove closer, any doubts she might have had dissipated. A large deck on the western side of the house was unfinished, and the front of the house looked as if it had been under construction for years.
