"What do you mean?"

  "Like a dead fish or something."

  "What do you think is really going on here?"

  "Why don't you just save us all a little time and let me in on it?" I say, leaning forward. "Or don't you really have a clue?"

  He purses his thick lips, nods, and says, "How do you feel about being alone?"

  "Fine."

  "I thought you missed her?"

  "Her. Her. Her. You think I'm weeping for lost love or some crap?"

  "There's no shame in admitting the fear of being alone," he says. "Most of us are."

  "I am perfectly fine."

  "Okay," he says, puffing out his fat cheeks and letting out the air. "Let's shift gears."

  "Oh, no. Please let me talk about how much I miss her," I say, clasping my hands together. "It's cleansing."

  He tilts his head down and looks through the tops of his glasses, waiting for me to stop before he says,

  "You said it was two days before Bucky found Ben's car. Did you do something to lead him to it?"

  "Me?"

  "It's pretty heavy," he says, "doing that to your friend."

  "Like I wanted to get caught?" I say, my mouth open at the ridiculousness of the suggestion.

  "Is it possible?"

  "Trust me. It had nothing to do with me."

  I always thought of the boardroom in a big company as a place for flanking maneuvers, charges, betrayals, and retreats. High ground is essential. So are allies. The boardroom at the King Corp offices was on the third floor, a long dark wood table surrounded by windows and a cluster of easels with artwork depicting the various projects from around the country. A mall. An office building. A hotel. All pen and ink with rich green trees and perfect people in the foreground, usually pointing toward the impressive creation.

  Mike Allen came to see me, which in itself is never good news. The chairman doesn't come to see the CEO any more than the principal sits in on a teacher's classroom. We met in the boardroom. When I offered him coffee, he held up a paper cup with a plastic lid and shook his head.

  "Sit."

  I made a point of pouring myself a cup from the sideboard before I did. Then I took a sip and leaned back in my chair, smiling at him.

  "You know why I'm here," he said.

  "New York isn't an easy place to do business," I said. "Did you know we had the chance to build the South Street Seaport? You know James, though. He'd never play ball with those guys."

  "And you are?"

  I put my coffee down and leaned forward. "Mike, it's part of the cost of doing business. Everyone down there knows that. When you don't . . . what do you think happened to James? Milo?"

  "Have they made threats?"

  "I thought you didn't want to know about all this," I said. "Just get the project done. That's what you said."

  "I heard two engineers had their trucks stolen from the site last week," he said. "We're twenty-four days behind. I got told yesterday that if it keeps going, this thing could run two years over. I don't have to tell you the interest costs on two billion dollars over two years."

  "Who told you two years?" I asked, making a face and shaking my head. "Some engineer? A banker?"

  "Someone who knows."

  "You can say Ben."

  "I don't play games like that," he said, gripping his coffee and flicking off the top with his thumb.

  "We've got a leakage rate of over twenty percent."

  "Morris," I said. King Corp's CFO.

  "I asked him, Thane. He didn't volunteer."

  "You think you would have gotten those numbers if it was James instead of me?" I asked. "How the hell am I supposed to run this thing when I can't trust the people I need?"

  "That's not really the issue, is it?" Mike said. He sipped his coffee and set it down carefully. "I look worse in this than anyone. Trust me. Remember those dinners we'd have after the SU games? The party we had at Grimaldi's after the Nebraska game? I've always been there, your biggest supporter. But this is business."

  "What's that mean?"

  "We've got to get it right. This can't keep going on."

  "As in, what?"

  "There are people on the board pushing for a change," Mike said. "Time is running out."

  "Let them," I said, standing up. "Go ahead. Let any one of those stuffed turkeys run this job. Let Ben."

  "Why do you say Ben?" he asked, tilting his head.

  I felt a current in my stomach, like he knew.

  "He's the fucking problem here. What's he done to help? He's the one supposed to be down there, not running around up here. I said fire him. You said no. Now I'm fucked."

  "Easy," he said, holding out his hands, palms down like he was going to levitate the table. Then he turned them over. "We gotta do better. That's all. It's like a coach. What did you do when they yelled at you? Quit?"

  "I'm not quitting, Mike," I said. "I just want them to know. Take it if they want. See what they get."

  Mike rested his hands on the table and looked at his cup.

  "Thane," he said. "You don't have anything going on, right? I mean, I've seen it happen. But, it's something we'd have to fix right away. It's something I'd want to fix."

  I stared at him until he looked up with those pale green eyes. He was a good man.

  "No, Mike."

  That made him happy. He clapped me on the back and we traded well-known inspirational quotes from Vince Lombardi and then he left and flew back off to New York. My office was between the boardroom and Morris's. On my way past, I noticed my secretary's empty desk. I stopped and looked inside. Darlene was at my computer.

  "What are you doing?"

  She jumped and put her hand on her chest.

  "We've been having problems syncing the schedule on your BlackBerry with the computer. You scared me."

  I crossed the room and yanked the plug out of the wall. The computer snapped off. Darlene frowned and stepped back.

  "I don't want anyone on my computer," I said, glaring at her until her eyes filled with tears and she rushed out of the room.

  I slammed my office door shut behind me and made a beeline for Morris's office. He had a paneled alcove with a high ceiling just down the hall from where James had been. My eyes caught that dark end of the hallway. An oriental rug rolled up and sagging against a desk. Picture frames leaning on a lamp. An unplugged coffeemaker.

  A shadow flickered.

  I swallowed and looked away, asking Jim's secretary where he was. She said he had someone in there. I knocked once and walked in. One of the young leasing agents jumped to his feet and I held the door for him. Jim Morris blinked up at me.

  I stared.

  "What did you want me to say?" he finally said, blinking again.

  "What did James always say?" I said. "Chain of command."

  "He said he was trying to help."

  "You think that helped?" I said, raising my voice.

  He looked down and shook his head.

  I exhaled through my nose and said, "Did you get the overages from Con Trac?"

  "I was going to talk to you about that. It's--"

  "Pay it."

  Jim twitched his nose, moving his glasses up higher on the bridge. He took the bill from a stack of papers on the edge of his desk and held it out to me, blinking.

  "I know what it is," I said. "This is a two-billion-dollar project. We're in with Con Trac, which, by the way, was the company James told me personally he decided to use. Now I'm stuck with making it happen. I trust his judgment, Jim, and I'm sure you do too."

  "Three months from now, we have to give the bank an accounting. You know that," he said. His eyebrows were doing a jitterbug above the rims of his glasses.

  "You think I spend all my time out there in a tree stand?" I said. "The Japanese are ready to step in as soon as anyone blinks."

  "Well," Jim said, raising his eyebrows up high, "I'm glad you're thinking about it."

  "So, pay it," I said.

  I walked out, thinking about that money, which led me to thinking about Johnny G, so I wasn't really paying attention when I got in my Hummer to head to the lodge. I didn't notice the FBI car until they pulled out around me and swerved right in front.

  They wanted to talk about Ben.

  50

  BUCKY WOKE UP and heard cars instead of birds. His face tightened, then his stomach. He rolled his eyes toward Judy. Her back was to him and he eased out of the sagging bed, avoiding the corner of the old striped mattress where the sheets had pulled free during the night. The floorboards of the small rented room creaked, and with the bottoms of his feet he could feel the gaps in the rough-cut wood. Framed by the dusty yellow curtains and split diagonally by the long crack in the window was Main Street.

  Bucky washed up in the tiny sink, then squeezed through the back staircase out of the crumbling brick building. He puffed into his hands, crossed the gravel lot, and climbed into his blue Suburban. He picked up his cell phone, dialed Ben, and got voice mail again.

  "Ben," he said, after the tone, "it's Buck. I have no idea what happened to you, but call me."

  Bucky hung up and called into the King Corp offices, asking for Ben there and getting more voice mail. He spent the rest of his drive figuring and by the time he reached the lodge, the adrenaline was running hot. He punched the code into the access gate for deliveries. It didn't work. He banged his fist against the metal box and headed back down Swamp Road, past the ruin of his house, then onto the long winding road that the greenhorns had to use to get to the lodge. After crossing the bridge, he turned down the service entrance and went in through the kitchen. Robin, the pastry chef, lost the color in her face when she saw him.

  "Bucky?" she said.

  "Where's Adam?"

  Robin hesitated, looking from one of Bucky's hands to the other. "I think in the wine cellar."

  "Thane?" Bucky asked.

  "I don't know," she said. "I know he has something here tonight. Some politicians. You-- It's good to see you, Bucky."

  "You too," Bucky said, and rounded the bend, heading down the stone steps into the cool dry cellar. Adam was bent over a shelf of wine casks trying to plug a leaky spout. The red wine spewed out, dousing him and staining his clothes. Bucky grabbed a cork off a higher shelf and snatched a wooden mallet out of Adam's hand. He struck the spout, blasting it free, replaced it with the cork, and with one resounding stroke plugged the hole. Adam looked up at him with an open mouth, eyes big through the round glasses. His face went from pink to red, outshining the stains on the white apron he wore over his flannel shirt and jeans.

  "I'm lookin' for Ben," Bucky said.

  "Thane didn't see you," Adam said quickly, wiping his pudgy hands on the apron covering his big belly, "did he?"

  "Where's Ben?" Bucky said.

  Adam's mouth was moving now, jiggling the rolls of his neck. But his only sound was a constricted gurgle.

  "You shoulda turned that backhoe on him," Bucky said, pointing his finger at Adam.

  "He was gonna wreck my house too," Adam said, choking. "I had to, Buck. He was gonna do it anyway."

  "You think I woulda done that to you?" Bucky said, his forehead knotting. Adam cast his eyes at the floor.

  "Ben," Bucky said.

  "Not for three days, Buck," Adam said, untying the apron, and using it to mop up the mess.

  "What about Thane?"

  "I don't know when he'll be here," Adam said, talking fast, wiping the cask. "He just comes and goes. He's running everything, Buck. My wife's back in school. Tuition's six thousand dollars. It's not the same without you, though. The hunting's not too good. Thane wanted a fresh roast for the governor's people. I even took a flashlight out with my Winchester, but I had to go to the freezer. Thane, he wounded a big buck down by the West Lodge the other night. Didn't get him. We could've used that. He was a mess."

  Adam went on mopping the wine. Bucky just looked at him until he stopped.

  "James's gone," Bucky said. "Then Scott. Now Ben."

  "Ben?" Adam said, looking at his wine-soaked apron.

  Bucky just looked. Adam kept his eyes down and shifted his feet, making little slapping sounds in the puddle of wine.

  "You call my cell phone if you hear from him," Bucky said. "Anyone out hunting this morning?"

  "Not till this afternoon," Adam said. "Some of the politicians."

  "Okay," Bucky said, staring at him, "listen, I'm going to take a drive around. If Thane shows up, you call me on my cell phone. I don't want any trouble."

  "Buck," Adam said, gripping the apron and twisting it, "if he finds out."

  "So you better call me," Bucky said.

  Adam swallowed, then glanced up and back to the floor.

  Bucky took the stairs two at a time and left a trail of dust with his Suburban. There was a lot of ground to cover if Thane was going to be heading for a tree stand sometime in the afternoon. He came out off the driveway on Scope Road, drove through the woods, and into an area they called the Upland Fields, bouncing along the dirt tracks, his chest restrained by the seat belt. He kept his eyes moving, the way he would if he was looking for game, his eyes roving for signs.

  He came out of the high grass and rumbled past the pheasant barn. He had planned on going right on Swamp Road and scouring the gravel road around the goose pond, but when the Suburban hit pavement, he turned left, not knowing why, and raced up the gravelly spine of the drumlin toward the West Lodge.

  Ben's car was waiting for him.

  51

  I WATCHED THE REDHEAD, Agent Lee, get out and walk up to my window. A van pulled up behind their car and honked. Agent Lee flashed her badge and motioned for the car to go around. I rolled down the window and said, "Are you crazy?"

  She told me they wanted to talk. I told her to go ahead.

  "Your friend is missing," she said.

  "Ben?" I said, raising my eyebrows and letting my mouth fall open.

  "Can we sit down somewhere?" she said. "We've got an office in the Federal Building."

  I told her mine was around the corner. She said that would be fine and they followed me back to the circle in the front of the building. I showed them into my office and offered them chairs around the small conference table opposite my desk. Agent Lee looked up at the shelf behind the desk. Old trophies and framed photos of me, Jessica, and Tommy skiing, scuba diving, on a boat, at a football stadium.

  I asked if they wanted a drink. They said no, but I asked Darlene to bring me a coffee before sitting down at the table.

  "We heard about your little dinner with Johnny G," Agent Rooks said.

  "Right," I said, staring at the red light on the recorder that she had set on the table without asking. "You said interact with him. We saw him at the Time Warner Center. A charity thing and he asked us to dinner. What you wanted me to do, right?"

  "Only you forgot tell us," she said, forcing a grin.

  "I'm supposed to track you down?" I said, looking at the redhead. "No offense, but I'm trying to run a company."

  "You're a family man," Agent Lee said, nodding toward the pictures on the shelf.

  "Of course."

  "Sometimes people forget," she said. "Work and everything."

  "There's a balance," I said, gazing up at the pictures. "That sailfish was number three in the world. Working hard lets you do stuff like that."

  "Hard days and long nights," Agent Rooks said. "That's what my dad said. I think I saw him at my graduation. I'm pretty sure it was him."

  I looked at her for a moment.

  "So," I said. "Ben."

  "We had a meeting," Agent Lee said. "He stiffed us. No calls, and no one's seen him."

  I shrugged and said, "He's supposed to be down at the Garden State project. I haven't been able to get him either, but it's been nuts down there."

  "We've got people down there," Amanda said. "They haven't seen him."

  "On the site you have people?" I asked, raising my brow.

  "How close was Ben to Scott?" Rooks asked.

  I sucked in my lips and my eyes shifted from one of them to the other.

  "Like brothers," I said. "All of us. Since back in school."

  "What about the union?" Amanda asked.

  "Well, stuff has been disappearing down there on the site like it's a free-for-all. I never even thought of Ben. I mean, he's in charge down there, but . . ."

  "You said you've been trying to get him," Rooks said. "He works for you, right?"

  "Things are crazy right now," I said. "It's like the Cumberland project we did in Albany. Everyone just scrambling. You have to let people do their jobs."

  "To trust them," Agent Lee said.

  "Hopefully you can," I said. "Is there something you know that I don't?"

  Rooks's dark eyes bore into mine. I knew she knew. I knew she wanted to say it. I swallowed and stared right back.

  "There's a connection between the union and King Corp and James's murder," Agent Lee said, drawing my attention away from her partner's glare. "That we know. It could be Ben. It could be Scott."

  We were all quiet for a minute. Darlene brought my coffee in and set it down in front of me. We all stared at it.

  "Or me?" I said quietly. "That's not what you think?"

  Agent Lee looked me in the eye. And bit back a nervous smile.

  "That would be pretty ballsy," Rooks said. "A cooperating witness on the take."

  Agent Lee cleared her throat and said, "We've seen the fallout in these things before. One guy, we found his head in a Dumpster with three bullets in it. Sometimes it's hard to say no."

  "You think that's what happened to Ben?" I asked.

  Rooks shrugged and said, "It's like squeezing a ball of dough. Shit starts squirting out between your fingers all over the place. It's a mess."

  "The thing is," Agent Lee said, "we know it's coming apart. It's heating up. The bodies. The stealing. That's just the thunder.

  "So, if you see Ben and he's got something he can tell us, you could do him a favor. At this point, no one's going to get out of this without getting burned. But when the whistle blows, and if he's on the right side, well, we could help him, still."

  "But that whistle's gonna blow any day," Rooks said. She looked over at her partner and added,