drag me through it with him?”
“Wait a minute,” Ali said in dismay as something Brenda had said earlier finally penetrated. “You’re saying you were practically engaged to a man you’d actually never met?”
“You don’t have to be standing next to somebody to know him,” Brenda said. “We talked on the phone for hours almost every day. Now that I can’t talk to him anymore, I miss him so much. I just need to know he’s all right—that he’s not sick or dying.”
For a time Ali was stunned into silence. Brenda was a well-educated professional woman. How was it possible that she could fall in love and be virtually engaged to someone she had never met? Clearly
virtually
was the operant word. The man Brenda Riley supposedly loved wasn’t a person at all. What she knew about Richard Lattimer was what he had told her in a stream of words typed on a computer screen, endearments uttered over a cell phone. The whole idea was beyond bizarre. It made no sense.
Ali found herself in full agreement with Brenda’s mother and sister. Richard whoever-he-might-be was a lying son of a bitch, and he most definitely had been stringing Brenda along.
“Have you ever thought about running a background check on him?” Ali asked.
Brenda frowned. “You mean the kind of thing employers do when they’re getting ready to hire someone?”
Ali nodded.
“It sounds expensive,” Brenda said. “I probably couldn’t afford . . .”
“The people who handle my computer security issues do background checks all the time,” Ali said. “I’m sure they’d be happy to look into it for you.”
“Really?” Brenda grasped at this slender thread of hope with heartbreaking eagerness.
“Really.”
“All I want is to know that Richard is okay. If he doesn’t want me in his life, that’s fine, but I need to know for sure that he’s not sick or dying.”
“I understand.”
“What do you need?”
“Just his e-mail address.” Ali knew that once the people at B. Simpson’s High Noon Enterprises had Richard Lattimer’s IP address, they could go from there and find all kinds of things Richard might prefer to leave unfound.
Brenda’s sad face was suddenly radiant with hope. She reached into her purse and dug around for a piece of paper and a pen. While doing so, she placed her car keys on the table. Ali quietly slipped them into her pocket, although what she was going to do from there was anyone’s guess.
Brenda was still scribbling down Richard’s e-mail address when a broad shadow loomed over their table. Ali looked up and was astonished to see Jose Reyes standing there. In one hand he held a cup of coffee. In the other another shot. “This is for you,” he said, setting the coffee cup in front of Ali. “And this is for your friend.” He handed the shot glass to Brenda.
“Peace offering,” he said to Ali. “Thanks for not raising hell about today,” he said. “You could have. I was out of line.”
Brenda downed the drink and then gave Jose a bleary-eyed smile.
“I’m willing to let bygones be bygones,” Ali said, “on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Jose said.
“I need some help. My friend here is drunk out of her gourd and is in no condition to drive. There’s a motel next door. Would you please help me get her there?”
“How much has she had?” Jose asked.
“Too much,” Ali said.
Jose nodded. “Sure,” he said, then he held out his hand to Brenda.
“What’s going on?” Brenda asked.
“We’re moving the party,” he said.
“Really? What fun.”
Jose guided Brenda across the two adjoining parking lots while Ali hurried on ahead. Fortunately the VACANCY sign was still lit. Inside the office, Ali rented a room and told the clerk, “My friend’s had a little too much to drink. I’m keeping her car keys. Tell her to call me in the morning.”
When she went back outside, Ali discovered that Brenda was violently sick. If Jose hadn’t been holding her up, she might have
“Wait a minute,” Ali said in dismay as something Brenda had said earlier finally penetrated. “You’re saying you were practically engaged to a man you’d actually never met?”
“You don’t have to be standing next to somebody to know him,” Brenda said. “We talked on the phone for hours almost every day. Now that I can’t talk to him anymore, I miss him so much. I just need to know he’s all right—that he’s not sick or dying.”
For a time Ali was stunned into silence. Brenda was a well-educated professional woman. How was it possible that she could fall in love and be virtually engaged to someone she had never met? Clearly
virtually
was the operant word. The man Brenda Riley supposedly loved wasn’t a person at all. What she knew about Richard Lattimer was what he had told her in a stream of words typed on a computer screen, endearments uttered over a cell phone. The whole idea was beyond bizarre. It made no sense.
Ali found herself in full agreement with Brenda’s mother and sister. Richard whoever-he-might-be was a lying son of a bitch, and he most definitely had been stringing Brenda along.
“Have you ever thought about running a background check on him?” Ali asked.
Brenda frowned. “You mean the kind of thing employers do when they’re getting ready to hire someone?”
Ali nodded.
“It sounds expensive,” Brenda said. “I probably couldn’t afford . . .”
“The people who handle my computer security issues do background checks all the time,” Ali said. “I’m sure they’d be happy to look into it for you.”
“Really?” Brenda grasped at this slender thread of hope with heartbreaking eagerness.
“Really.”
“All I want is to know that Richard is okay. If he doesn’t want me in his life, that’s fine, but I need to know for sure that he’s not sick or dying.”
“I understand.”
“What do you need?”
“Just his e-mail address.” Ali knew that once the people at B. Simpson’s High Noon Enterprises had Richard Lattimer’s IP address, they could go from there and find all kinds of things Richard might prefer to leave unfound.
Brenda’s sad face was suddenly radiant with hope. She reached into her purse and dug around for a piece of paper and a pen. While doing so, she placed her car keys on the table. Ali quietly slipped them into her pocket, although what she was going to do from there was anyone’s guess.
Brenda was still scribbling down Richard’s e-mail address when a broad shadow loomed over their table. Ali looked up and was astonished to see Jose Reyes standing there. In one hand he held a cup of coffee. In the other another shot. “This is for you,” he said, setting the coffee cup in front of Ali. “And this is for your friend.” He handed the shot glass to Brenda.
“Peace offering,” he said to Ali. “Thanks for not raising hell about today,” he said. “You could have. I was out of line.”
Brenda downed the drink and then gave Jose a bleary-eyed smile.
“I’m willing to let bygones be bygones,” Ali said, “on one condition.”
“What’s that?” Jose said.
“I need some help. My friend here is drunk out of her gourd and is in no condition to drive. There’s a motel next door. Would you please help me get her there?”
“How much has she had?” Jose asked.
“Too much,” Ali said.
Jose nodded. “Sure,” he said, then he held out his hand to Brenda.
“What’s going on?” Brenda asked.
“We’re moving the party,” he said.
“Really? What fun.”
Jose guided Brenda across the two adjoining parking lots while Ali hurried on ahead. Fortunately the VACANCY sign was still lit. Inside the office, Ali rented a room and told the clerk, “My friend’s had a little too much to drink. I’m keeping her car keys. Tell her to call me in the morning.”
When she went back outside, Ali discovered that Brenda was violently sick. If Jose hadn’t been holding her up, she might have
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