Mornings Without Zoe

By Jack Erickson

Zoe abandons her husband Valentine’s weekend in Monterey. This is not the first time she has run away from a lover or husband. Zoe has a compulsion to flee men who love her and adopt a new identity. Zoe starts a new life in Hollywood's fast lane with new lovers and a career in the movie industry. But a crisis shatters her; she's determined to resolve a childhood trauma.
After Zoe disappears, her husband, Nathan, falls apart. Desperate to find her, he searches for clues to her disappearance. Is she dead? Is she alive but in danger?
He’s shocked when he discovers that Zoe's life was full of secrets.
Secret bank accounts.
Secret post office addresses.
Secret photos of people Nathan didn’t know.
Secret address books.
Nathan realizes he didn’t know this Zoe. Did she have two lives . . . three lives?
When we learn Zoe’s story, she admits she was planning lon eaving Nathan for a long time. She loves him, but doesn’t want to be his wife and live in their luxurious home in Silicon Valley.
Zoe has left husbands and lovers before.
She changes her name, her profession, her address, and the stories she tells people.
Why?
It’s time to read Zoe’s story and her many secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jack Erickson
• Release date: Dec 23, 2009
• ISBN: 9781301775828

Jack Erickson

Jack Erickson writes in multiple genres: international thrillers, mysteries, true crime, short mysteries, and romantic suspense.He is currently writing the Milan Thriller Series featuring the anti-terrorism police, DIGOS, at Milan's Questura (police headquarters). Book I in the series is Thirteen Days in Milan. Book 2, No One Sleeps, was published in December 2016. Book 3, Vesuvius Nights, was published in 2019. Book 4, The Lonely Assassin, was published in 2020.The models for Erickson's Milan thrillers are three popular Italian mystery series: Donna Leon's Commissario Brunetti in Venice, Andrea Camilleri's Inspector Salvo Montalbano in Sicily, and Michael Dibdin's Commissario Aurelio Zen in Rome. All three have been produced as TV series at either BBC, PBS, RAI, or Deutsche WelleErickson travels throughout Italy for research and sampling Italian contemporary life and culture. In earlier careers, he was a U.S. Senate speechwriter, Washington-based editor, and RedBrick Press publisher. He wrote and published several books on emerging craft brewing industry including the award winning Star Spangled Beer: A Guide to America's New Microbreweries and Brewpubs.Before he began writing fiction, he was a wealth manager for a national brokerage in Silicon Valley.

Book preview

MORNINGS WITHOUT ZOE

Jack Erickson

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without written permission, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

This is a work of fiction based upon the imagination of the author. No real people are represented. 

Jack Erickson’s books are available at all digital sites and at www.RedBrickPress.net

Milan Thriller Series

Thirteen Days in Milan

No One Sleeps

Vesuvius Nights

The Lonely Assassin

Novels

Bloody Mary Confession

Rex Royale

A Streak Across the Sky

Mornings Without Zoe

Short Mysteries

Perfect Crime

Missing Persons

Teammates

The Stalker

Weekend Guest

True Crime

Blood and Money in the Hunt Country

Noir Series

Bad News is Back in Town

Audio Books

A Streak Across the Sky

Perfect Crime

The Stalker

Teammates

Nonfiction

Star Spangled Beer:

A Guide to America’s New Microbreweries and Brewpubs

Great Cooking with Beer

Brewery Adventures in the Wild West

California Brewin’

Brewery Adventures in the Big East

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

No One Sleeps Trailer

MORNINGS WITHOUT ZOE

Jack Erickson

CHAPTER ONE

VALENTINE’S DAY

Zoe Dannae sipped her martini, relishing the crisp, cool slide of gin around her mouth, soothing her taste buds with hints of spice, juniper, and ecstasy. She closed her eyes, waiting for the alcohol to wash over her brain with waves of relaxation and wonder.

Magic time.

Mmm, this martini is delicious, she said, looking across at her husband, Nathan, sipping an Anchor Steam. I’ve been waiting all day for this. This is a lovely restaurant, perfect for Valentine’s.

Zoe’s eyes roamed over Vista del Mar restaurant as dusk settled over Monterey Bay. Streetlights glowed through the evening mist, illuminating the sailboats in the harbor. A crackling fire in the fireplace was putting out the aroma of pine as Johnny Mathis’s My Funny Valentine played over the sound system.

Honey, this place is charming, Zoe said. They’re going all out for Valentine’s: napkins with red ribbons, sequin hearts sprinkled around the table, fresh flowers, and heart-shaped candles. How did you know about this place?

Nathan reached into the breadbasket, tearing a warm roll, and handing half to Zoe. I saw their poster in the hotel. Complimentary champagne, flowers, and Valentine’s cake.

They dipped warm rolls into a saucer of olive oil, garlic, and vinaigrette.

I love these rolls, Zoe said. I could eat the whole basket.

Isn’t the fireplace amazing? Nathan said, sipping his beer.

"Mmm, it’s making my backside so toasty. I was getting cold on the beach."

Nathan grinned. What kind of husband could let his wife get into bed on Valentine’s with a cold tush? That could spoil our evening.

I know what you’re thinking, she teased. You have this . . . look. You’d better stop it or we won’t make it through dinner.

Their waitress arrived with a bottle of bubbly. Compliments of the house. She poured and bubbles trickled over the rim. Enjoy your champagne. I’ll be back to take your orders.

They clinked glasses. Happy Valentine’s, honey, Zoe said.

Same to you, Nathan said, This Valentine’s weekend is going to be special. We’ve got the honeymoon suite and lunch in Carmel tomorrow. We’ve got all weekend to sleep late, make love, and talk about our future.

Zoe’s eyes dropped to her menu. Oh, Nathan, I wish you wouldn’t talk about our future, this weekend of all weekends.

Really? What did you have in mind? she asked.

Let’s wait until tomorrow. I feel romantic tonight and don’t want to get into a big discussion. Let’s just have a nice dinner and go back to the hotel.

Zoe looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap. I wish you could see your face right now; you look like a boy getting ready to open Christmas presents.

The waitress returned. How is your champagne, folks?

Zoe said, It’s a nice way to start the evening.

Are you ready to order?

Nathan pointed to the wine list. We’ll start with a bottle of Bernardus Chardonnay. Zoe, what would you like?

She pointed to a slip with the specials. I’ll have the green salad with artichokes and walnuts, grilled mahi-mahi, and rice pilaf.

Excellent choice. And you, sir?

The same salad, pepper steak, baked potato, and grilled vegetables. Medium.

Could we get more rolls, please? Zoe asked.

I’ll bring a new basket with your wine.

Zoe picked crumbs from the basket while Nathan poured champagne into their glasses.

This is our fourth Valentine’s, Nathan said. Remember the others?

Hmm, let me think. First time in San Francisco, dinner at the Top of the Mark. You had prime rib; I had a shrimp salad. We stayed in that cute hotel by the Bay Bridge.

Whoa, I’m impressed.

The next year was Hawaii, the Big Island. You were at a business conference and flew me over.

What else did we do that trip?

Flew over to Maui to watch sunrise at the Haleakala volcano. Got up at four in the morning and froze our butts. That afternoon we swam in the lagoon. You know my favorite memory of Hawaii?

Let me think . . . the beach? The orchids?

You swimming with the dolphins.

Nathan smiled. God, that was great.

When the dolphins swam into the lagoon, you dove down, came up and leaped out of the water. Your back was arched and glistened in the sun. You looked like a bronzed god.

How about last year?

Napa at Silverado. We played tennis in the morning, swam before lunch, toured wineries in the afternoon.

The waitress came with their wine and fresh rolls. She displayed the label to Nathan and poured a taste into his glass. He swirled, sipped, and nodded his approval. She poured for them, and retreated with a bow. Enjoy your wine.

Nathan and Zoe raised clinked glasses again. Happy Valentine’s, they said in unison.

Nathan pushed back his chair. I’ve got to find the restroom. Will you be OK?

Yes, please go. You’ve been squirming in your seat the last ten minutes.

Yes, Nathan, give me time to collect my thoughts. I’m trying to smile, but my face is cracking from the strain. You don’t know what’s going to happen this weekend. Just a few more hours . . .

Nathan headed through the dining room and disappeared down a hallway. Zoe’s eyes darted from table to table, searching out anyone who might be watching her.

She picked her purse from the floor, unzipped a pocket, and pulled out a thick envelope. She flicked through a stack of hundred dollar bills, Benjamin Franklin smiling enigmatically. She had forty Franklins in the envelope. She thumbed through the bills and stopped at Andrew Jackson’s stern face. She had fifty Old Hickorys and more twenty and ten dollar bills.

Zoe put the envelope back into the zippered pocket and pulled out a travel guide: Weekender’s Guide to Southern California.

She leafed through the book: San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, Hollywood, Manhattan Beach, Newport Beach, La Jolla, San Diego.

Who would she meet when she left Nathan? Someone interesting . . . exotic . . . mysterious. What would be their story? She was always fascinated by stories men told her. If their stories were compelling, she’d stay with them awhile. If they weren’t, she’d move on. She was ready for new stories.

Zoe reflected on the men who had been in her life. Most lasted only a few weeks or months. Nathan had been her longest relationship. Too long.

Jeff was one of the first. They were young, starting new lives at the university. They had met at a gallery where he told her about his passion for art. All he ever wanted to be was an artist. She had loved that about Jeff, but they couldn’t live on love and his passion for painting. She moved on.

Andy’s passion was science: physics and astronomy, a grad student at the University of Washington. It was fun for a while, meeting bright students and going to fun parties. Andy was brilliant, but he lived in his head.

Sean was next. All the girls thought he was so lovable. Cute, wavy blonde hair, piercing hazel eyes, muscular frame. A real Adonis. Sean would be a good husband. All he wanted was kids, a home in the suburbs, coaching soccer, and PTA meetings. How boring.

Rafe was the funniest. A true party guy. He could make her laugh anytime—in the shower, shopping, riding bikes. But he wasn’t a good lover. I’ll bet he is making some girl laugh right now. It wasn’t that hard to leave Rafe.

Then there was Antonio. Gorgeous, stylish, lots of money, and a great storyteller. A charming Latino. But he wasn’t my type; too conceited. Sorry, Antonio, you hated it when I left.

Hey, I’m back, Nathan said, standing over her. What’s so interesting in your purse?

CHAPTER TWO

THE STRANGER

Zoe quickly shut her purse.

I was looking for my contact lens case. My eyes are getting dry from walking on the beach.

Nathan sat down as the waitress came with their salads, sprinkling pepper from a wooden shaker onto each.

Wow, that was close. I hope he didn’t see what I was looking at. It could ruin everything!

Mm, this salad is looks great, Nathan said. I was starved.

Me too, Zoe said, picking at bites of tomato and cucumbers.

Her appetite was stymied by the anxiety of the moment and what was to come. Nathan was oblivious; he was mildly inebriated, smiling, chewing robustly, unaware of the significance of the moment.

Can’t wait for my steak, he said, pouring more wine.

When their waitress returned with their dinner, Nathan immediately started carving his steak and chopping his baked potatoes before shoveling them into his mouth.

Zoe ate slowly, taking a fork of fish, a portion of rice, and chewing deliberately. She watched Nathan attack his food, a habit of his she hated. A hunk of steak, a fork of potato, a stab of broccoli, all the time staring at his food like it was going to jump off the plate and run away.

Slow down Nathan, I’m here, your wife, sitting across from you. Why can’t you ever talk when you’re stuffing your face?

They ate in silence, Nathan stabbing and chewing, Zoe looking around at other guests talking to their companions, smiling with their eyes, enjoying their dinner.

When they finished dinner, their waitress came over. So, how was everything, folks?

Nathan groaned and patted his stomach. My steak was great! Just the way I like it, rare and juicy.

The mahi-mahi was excellent—the best I’ve had in a long time.

Would you like your dessert here or in the bar with Irish coffee?

Let’s finish our wine and go to the bar, Nathan said. Check please.

Yes Nathan, have a couple more drinks so that when we get back to the hotel, you fall right asleep. I’ve got to get things ready tonight.

After Nathan paid for dinner, they retrieved their windbreakers, hats, and Zoe’s camera from the backs of their chairs and headed toward the bar.

The bar crowd was humming. Men in golf sweaters were hustling women in pantsuits and fashionable blouses, sipping wine and eye-flirting while a guitarist strummed Latin chords. No long hair or beards. Expensive watches and recent visits to salons and barbers.

Nathan went to the bar to pick up the Irish coffees and Zoe found an empty table facing Monterey Bay. When he returned, they sipped their coffees and gazed out over the marina.

Zoe shot a hand to her face.

What’s wrong?

Ooo, I’ve got something in my eye. It hurts.

Take it out.

I don’t have my lens case with me.

Just take it out and we’ll get it.

Oooo, she murmured and popped out the lens, rubbing her eye in relief. Aaah, that feels better. But I don’t have any place to put it. I need my solution and lens case. They’re in the car.

I’ll get them for you.

No, don’t. It’s too far.

It’s only a couple blocks. I’ll get it.

They’re in the compartment between the seats.

I know where you keep them. Nathan gulped from his Irish coffee and got up to leave. He bent over and kissed her on the forehead. See you in five minutes.

Thanks, you’re a dear.

Nathan zipped his windbreaker and headed through the foyer to the entrance.

As he opened the door, he stepped aside to allow a middle-aged couple to enter. Behind the couple, five or six people waited in line to enter the restaurant. He held the door and nodded at each.

The last was a tall man who emerged from shadows into the neon glow of the Villa del Mar marquee. He was dressed in black; stylish overcoat, long scarf, and tasseled Italian loafers. His long black hair was combed back like a lion’s mane.

He glanced at Nathan, his dark eyes deep set like a young Omar Sharif.

Very kind, thank you, he said, a deep voice with a trace of an accent.

My pleasure, Nathan answered and hurried down the hill to the parking lot.

The tall, dark man entered the Vista del Mar and went into the bar, took off his coat, and sat down. The bartender came over, swiped a towel over the bar, and put down a fresh napkin.

Welcome to the Vista del Mar.

Chivas, ice on the side.

Chivas, ice on the side coming up. The bartender reached into the display of liquor bottles for a distinctively shaped bottle and splashed a few ounces into a glass.

The man’s eyes glanced around the U-shaped bar, stopping to admire the more attractive women. A fashionable-looking woman sitting alone caught his eye. He smiled and she returned it.

The bartender brought a glass of amber liquid and another with ice. Enjoy your drink, sir.

He lifted his glass and nodded toward the woman, who raised hers to him.

Zoe had been looking out the window at the marina, holding her contact lens between her thumb and finger. She turned and looked around the bar.

She froze when she recognized the tall, dark man.

Oh, my God, it’s Antonio! What is he doing here? He can’t see me—no, not this weekend!

The man’s eyes locked on Zoe, her mouth open in disbelief. He smiled, stood up, and walked over to her table.

Well, hello, stranger. It’s been a long time. Are you alone tonight?

CHAPTER THREE

A DARK NIGHT

Nathan jogged toward the parking lot, breathing the damp salty air into his lungs. Sailboats in the Monterey marina were tethered to floating piers, their taut lines stretching as waves lapped against their hulls and maritime pennants fluttered on masts. Long curls of surf rolled toward shore and crashed onto dark, deserted beaches.

The champagne and wine had mellowed Nathan. He was relaxed, happy with his life, in love with his wife, and full of dreams. Nathan was eager to share those dreams with Zoe this weekend.

He wanted to start a family, sell their condo, and buy a larger home to raise children. He had planned this weekend to get away and tell her at lunch in Carmel the next day. On the drive down from San Jose that afternoon, he had fantasized how she would react to his plans. Would Zoe want a boy first or a girl? He wanted a girl first, then a boy. Maybe a third or fourth child if things went well. He wanted a houseful of kids running around the house like he saw at his married friends’ homes. He wanted kids yelling when he came in the door at night. Daddy! It’s Daddy!

He loved that word. Maybe he'd be a father by next Valentine’s Day. How he would love that!

Fuzzy halos from streetlights lit up parking lot as he ran across the street into the parking lot. Sand was blowing across the lot piling up on concrete dividers and parking meters. Nathan unlocked the car and dug out Zoe's lens case and solution. He locked up and started back toward the restaurant, crossing the middle of the street and heading up the hill. He jogged, looking out over the darkened marina, eager to see Zoe, have another Irish coffee before returning to their hotel and making love.

He tired and walked the last block to the Vista del Mar. He glanced up and caught a glimpse of Zoe in the bar siting with someone. A tall, dark man.

When Nathan entered the restaurant, the mood had changed. The Valentine’s decorations looked tacky. The air was smoky and stale. The clattering of glasses, silverware, and dishes was unsettling. Greasy aromas from the kitchen made him nauseous.

Nathan strode into the bar, a trickle of sweat running down his forehead.

Neither Zoe nor the man noticed him. The man was telling a story, gesturing with his hands, his voice animated. When he finished, Zoe tilted back her head and laughed with a raw, physical energy that Nathan had not heard in a long time.

A slice of Valentine’s cake and a cooling Irish coffee were at Nathan’s place. He sat down and tossed her lens case and solution on the table.

Here's your contacts stuff. Who’s your friend?

CHAPTER FOUR

ANTONIO

Honey, I want you to meet Antonio. He came in when you left. Antonio, this is my husband, Nathan.

Antonio rose from his chair and reached out his hand. Pleasure to meet you, Nathan, he said, his voice throaty like a purr. You're a lucky man. Zoe was one of the most intriguing women I ever met. Charming and mysterious. I like that in a woman."

Hello, Antonio, Nathan said, sipping his Irish coffee. It was cool.

Antonio’s here for the weekend too, Zoe said. His girlfriend is flying in tonight from L.A. and they're driving down the coast next week.

Antonio sipped his Chivas. Heather is taking me to a spa in Big Sur, then to Hearst Castle, and Santa Barbara. Then we're flying to Cabo where she’s buying a condo. It’s on a cove where she snorkels and sunbathes nude.

Cabo has great resorts, Nathan said. We've been there.

Who’s this guy? Zoe hadn’t mentioned Antonio before. Had they been lovers?

Where are you from, Antonio?

Antonio caught the bartender's eye, held up three fingers, and made a circling motion over their table. Argentina. But when I met Zoe, I was living in Manhattan and traveling to San Francisco for business.

What work do you do?

I consult for a South American video game company called Mystica. He flashed a smile. Expensive dental care. I was an early investor and help them find partners in America.

What's your product line? Nathan asked.

Video games for Hispanic markets. We’re expanding into worldwide markets and I'm here on a marketing trip.

The bartender came with fresh drinks and picked up the empties.

Put it on my tab, please, Antonio said.

Yes, sir.

Antonio turned to Zoe. Zoe, you're the last person I expected to see in Monterey. It's been a long time.

Yes it has, she answered.

Please Antonio, don’t do this! I can’t believe I’m here with both Nathan and Antonio. Please, don’t let anything go wrong.

At least four years, Antonio purred. I was in San Francisco last week with friends. They asked about you, but I said I had lost track of you. I called your old number, but somebody else has it now. Next time I see them, I’ll tell them you're happily married to a software executive.

Yes, tell them I'm—we're doing well.

Antonio’s eyes lit up. Do you remember our ski trip over New Year’s in Tahoe? Nathan, you will like this story. I have a friend who has a lodge at North Shore. He invited us for New Year’s. There must have been twenty people, isn't that right, Zoe?

That sounds about right.

Antonio, what are you going with this? Please don’t drop any bombs tonight. That’s the last thing I need—you saying something that irritates Nathan.

It was a great weekend. They were a fun group. Skiers, gamblers, others who just wanted to sit in front of the fireplace and read. The guys were good skiers. I'm not that good. I love soccer and basketball. In my country, we don't have snow or mountains.

Zoe’s lips were pressed tight, her eyes locked on Antonio.

Antonio continued. Someone suggested we have a skiing competition. Each day, they would ski different runs. Each night back at the lodge, the skiers would rank everyone—best new skier, most improved, most adventurous. My favorite: most favored to break his leg before heading home.

Antonio laughed and clapped in mock applause. I won it the first day and quit. But here's the best part: Do you know who won the prize for most adventurous? With a flourish, he gestured toward Zoe. None other than your wife.

Zoe's response was muted. Your friends were nice, Antonio.

I can’t believe you’re doing this, Antonio. Can’t you see how uncomfortable I am? Please stop.

And they gave you a gag trophy. Remember ?

A bead of sweat was sliding down Zoe’s forehead. No, I don't.

I could strangle you, Antonio. Why would my husband want to know about a ski vacation I took with you? Stop!

It was a tacky souvenir of a 49er prospector. His mule was hauling wooden skis and a barrel of whiskey.

The image flashed through Nathan’s memory. The model was in their garage, on a shelf next to their skis. Zoe had told him she didn't remember where it was from.

I remember, Zoe murmured, glancing at Nathan.

Please no more, Antonio. Are you getting back at me for leaving you?

Nathan wanted to leave. When Antonio sensed the awkwardness, he changed the subject. By the way, you didn't tell me. When did you get married?

A year and a half ago, Nathan answered.

You look happy. It's wonderful to be in love and married.

You been married before, Antonio?

Yes, a hundred years ago. It didn't last. We were too young. You see, in my culture, young people are pressured to get married and have lots of children. I was different. I never wanted to be tied down with a houseful of screaming kids. I wouldn’t be good at it. Not everyone should marry or have children.

I agree, Zoe said.

Most married people I know aren't happy, Antonio said. The divorce rate proves it.

Antonio pointed to the crowd at the bar. Like those folks over there. Mostly singles, but a probably a couple married trying to hook up for the night. Singles want to be married; marrieds want to be single. People are confused about what they want. Once they get something, they don't want it anymore. People get divorced, are single for a few years and say they're happy. But they remarry and start the cycle all over. Then comes the next breakup and another divorce.

We're happily married, Nathan said. So are our friends. Honey, you want anything else?

Zoe shook her head. You ready to go?

Not a minute too soon. I’m going to have explaining to do—not what I wanted this weekend.

Don't rush off, Antonio protested. Stay for another drink.

Thanks but we should really go, Zoe said.

Where are you staying?

Pacific Beach Chalet, Zoe answered.

I passed by it driving in. I don't know where we're staying. Heather made the arrangements.

Nathan stood up. Excuse me, I'll be right back. He went to the bathroom, irritated by Antonio’s attitude. A line of men from the bar waited outside; it took him ten minutes to get in.

When Nathan emerged from the restroom, he saw Zoe and Antonio huddled in conversation. Antonio scribbled on a napkin and showed it to Zoe. She nodded and he put the napkin in his pocket.

Ready to go? Nathan said.

Antonio glanced at his watch. Are you going to be out later? We could have a nightcap after I pick up Heather.

No thanks, Nathan said. We're pretty tired.

Maybe we'll see each other this weekend, Antonio said. We could have dinner, my treat.

We'll take a rain check, Zoe said. Thanks anyway.

Not in this lifetime, Antonio.

Antonio extended his hand toward Nathan. So glad to meet you, Nathan. And a joy to see you again, Zoe. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, but she moved and his lips brushed her hair.

Good-bye, Zoe . . . Nathan, he said.

Zoe slipped her arm inside Nathan’s when they started down the hill. I can't believe running into Antonio, of all people. I wish you hadn't left.

They walked briskly, bracing against the cold wind coming off Monterey Bay.

I know you’re upset, Zoe said, squeezing his arm. I don’t want this to spoil anything. I was shocked when he came into the bar. You could have knocked me over with a feather.

You never mentioned him before. He talked as if you were best friends.

That’s Antonio. He acts like everyone he meets are best friends. But I wasn't in the mood for a trip down memory lane.

I can’t believe he would think we’d want us to meet his girlfriend.

Really. He’s probably so excited he’s found someone to marry. He always criticized people who were engaged, but I thought he was just jealous. I heard he struck out with a few women when he came on too strong, too early.

So why did you stop dating him?

I was afraid of him.

CHAPTER FIVE

NIGHTMARE

An alarm went off in Nathan's brain, alerting him to awaken from a deep dream. He was swimming from the depths of a dark, cold ocean towards a faint light above. He kicked his legs and paddled his arms, rising inches with each stroke. He had no breathing devices, but he didn't need air.

Ghostly sea monsters swam lazily past like creatures from a Hieronymus Bosch painting. Long eels with armor-like scales, doubled-headed snakes with bulging luminous eyes, monstrous fish with dagger teeth and spiny dorsal fins. A giant squid with transparent skin flowed past, jetting upward, then flipping over to circle around Nathan.

Kelp and seaweed tangled around his arms and legs. He looked down into the inky waters. A whale-size creature was trying to pull him back to the dark water below. Nathan swam upward, making agonizingly little progress against the heavy, cold water.

Nathan started to waken. Monstrous fish swam away; seaweed and kelp fell off his body into the vast depths. The cold ocean receded.

He stirred and felt his arms and legs twisted in sheets and bedcovers like a mummy. He choked on hot, dry air blowing from heating vents.

He desperately needed cool, fresh air.

He freed a hand and reached toward Zoe. The sheets and pillow were cool.

He listened for the sound of her sleeping.

He turned—Zoe was not in bed.

He bolted up straight.

Nathan turned on the lamp and squinted in the light. He strained for a sound of Zoe but all he heard was waves crashing on the beach.

Whoosh . . . silence. Whoosh . . . silence.

Zoe, Nathan's voice cracked. Where are you?

The digital clock on the nightstand clicked: 2:43 a.m.

Whoosh . . . silence.

He struggled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, hoping to see a sliver of light under the door. The bathroom door was open. Dark inside. Nathan flicked on the light. Zoe?

The shower curtain was pulled back. Wet towels were on the floor from their shower before lovemaking. Her makeup bag lay on the counter next to the Jacuzzi.

Nathan bolted back to the bedroom and grabbed his clothes where he had dropped them last night He dressed quickly, spotting Zoe's baseball cap, tights, and running shorts beside the bed. What was she wearing if she had left the hotel?

He opened the door and dashed down the empty hallway to the darkened lobby. A tented card was on the reception desk.

The lobby will reopen at 5 a.m.

If you need hotel services, please go to a house phone and press 5.

An attendant will be with you shortly.

Nathan rushed outside and felt the cold night air enveloped him.

Whoosh . . . silence. Whoosh . . . silence.

Nathan shivered as he walked around the driveway. Streetlights cast an eerie glow around the parking lot. A neon sign overhead blazed: Pacific Beach Chalet. Deluxe Rooms. Hot Tubs. Swimming Pool. Continental Breakfast. Vacancy.

He hurried to their tan Mercedes parked across from the pool and peeked inside. Empty. He turned around to scan the parking lot where swirling sand was building up on tires and walls. A quarter moon in the western sky glowed through thin, high clouds.

Zoe? he cried, his voice cracking. Where are you?

Whoosh . . . silence.

Antonio! He was at the bottom of this.

Nathan dashed back into the hotel and headed to their room, his mind racing. Did Zoe tell him their room number while he was in the bathroom? Had Antonio followed them from the Vista del Mar? Did he come to their room after he went to sleep?

Nathan was a sound sleeper. Zoe was a light sleeper.

Her warning haunted him: I was afraid of him . . . .

Nathan went to the bedside telephone and punched 911. After two rings, a woman answered.

Is this a life-threatening emergency?

My wife is missing! I think someone kidnapped her.

Your name and the number you're calling from? He heard beeping over the line.

Nathan Dannae. I'm at the Pacific Beach Chalet in Monterey. Room 224.

Your wife disappeared?

"I was sleeping. When I woke up, she wasn't in bed. I think