"I don't have your number."

He went over to the table, grabbed the Rolling Stone and a pen and scrawled his number across Bono's forehead.

"There. Now you have it. Call me later."

"Sure," she said.

He thought about how important that later phone call might be. Once he knew where Gina was, he didn't care what Mr. Grin said, he would tell anyone he knew because he might just need their help. He might need all the help he could get.

For the second time in ten minutes, he left the cafe.

Thirteen.

He felt lost. Alton was not an enormous city or a small town. It was a mid-sized city. Nowhere near as large as Columbus or Cincinnati. He thought he knew where Ettinger was. He didn't want to take any chances. A map was what he needed. And transportation. Transportation would have been a G.o.dsend. Well, he thought, there's always the bus. He had never ridden the bus but he knew it was available if he needed it. He always noticed bus stops but figured, now that he needed it, there wouldn't be one for miles. With his luck, he wouldn't be surprised if all of the bus drivers had gone on strike.

Luckily, the rain had tapered off a bit. It was now more like a cool mist. This was probably going to give him a fairly horrendous cold.

But what would a cold matter if he didn't live another day? What would a cold matter if he lost Gina forever? Not one bit was the only answer he could come up with.

He walked to the edge of the cafe parking lot and looked around. The cafe was in a strip mall with a lot of shops that were essentially useless to him. But there, across the street, was a gas station. Gas stations, especially the ones with brightly lighted convenient stores attached to them, were the answer to most of modern man's needs and questions. Bathrooms, maps, food, coffee, cigarettes, gas- they had everything.

He headed in that direction. Gleefully, he noticed the tinted-gla.s.s awning of a bus stop in front of the gas station's parking lot. If he was really lucky, the clerk would know what time the next bus ran. He gave himself fifteen minutes. If the bus was supposed to come within fifteen minutes, he would wait for it. If not, he would carry on. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at the display on the front of it.

12:45.

It was hard to believe that less than two hours had pa.s.sed since his horrifying telephone call. Consequently, that meant less than twenty-two hours remained for him to find Gina. And he still didn't really know where to begin looking.

He walked into the gas station. The clerk, a dumpy lady in her forties, nodded her peroxided head. He raised his hand and approached her.

"Maps?" he asked.

"Right under you," she said. Her name badge said 'Donna.' She had three blue stars below her name. He guessed that was good. Surely this woman with three blue stars would be able to help him.

"Thanks," he said.

He found one that would help him. It was a thin fold-out type for Alton and surrounding areas. Most of the surrounding areas were cornfields.

He put the map on the counter.

"That it?" Donna asked.

"I think so."

She gave him the total and he reached for his wallet. He didn't have any cash. He hardly ever carried cash anymore. Just some coins that hadn't fallen out into the washer yet. He gave Donna his credit card.

d.a.m.n. Lack of cash might be a problem if he was going to ride the bus. Last he'd heard, buses did not take credit cards. Although, to his knowledge, they might be the last places on earth not to do so. He would have to hope he had more coins.

"What time does the bus run?"

"Oh..." Donna seemed surprised. She handed his card back and pushed a piece of paper toward him to sign. "I think it runs about every half hour or so." She laughed. "Can't say for sure. Ain't never rode it."

"So... it'll probably be back around one or so?"

She craned around and looked at the clock behind her.

"I reckon," she said.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"Oh, you don't happen to have an ATM, do you?"

"We do but it ain't got no money in it." She gestured to the useless machine in the back. "Never has no money in it."

He imagined her thinking money magically appeared in the machine.

"Well, have a nice day," he said, trying not to let his frustration show through a friendly smile.

He took the map and left the store. The paper turned immediately soggy upon stepping outside. He made his way over to the bus stop, grateful to be in the little plexigla.s.s vestibule. He was the only person in it. He sat down and spread the map out before him. It had a street index, which helped a lot. Ettinger wasn't that far away at all. It was at the far side of his neighborhood, toward downtown Alton. He had been a street over when he went to Granger Ranger's that morning.

He looked at the map, studying the complexity of it. Gina and Mr. Grin could be anywhere, he thought. If they were still in Alton at all.

Some part of him still kept expecting to wake up.

He decided to spend his time waiting for the bus studying the map. Familiarize himself with the city. Basically, since moving in with Gina, he had driven to The Tent and back. That was it. When he was a teenager, exploring the roads, it had been in the small farm town of Glowers Hook. Those were the roads he "knew like the back of his hand." Alton's roads, well, maybe he knew those like the back of his foot or some other part of his body that spent most of its time covered up.

The layout was pretty simple.

From the city's center, a grid of streets ran north to south and east to west with clever names like First Street and Second Street. Not quite as large as New York, Alton's only went to Fifth Street. To the east of downtown was the industrial sprawl that made Alton prosper. Steel mills, paper mills, rubber factories. And the slums. The little houses that were no bigger than trailers. And trailers... there were plenty of those, as well. He and Gina had lived in one for a year before finding their current home. To the south were the more affluent suburbs. These had names like The Oaks, The Woodlands, Alton Heights. To the north, roughly where he now sat, were the perfectly middle-cla.s.s suburbs that took up most of Alton's geography. To the west there were very few roads. He figured most of that area was woods and fields.

He never really had much of a reason to go to that section of Alton, although he had been there before. With Gina, of course. He remembered a huge meadow and some train tracks. The train tracks were curious. There were two abandoned engines on the tracks and it looked like they had collided. The fronts of both engines were sort of rumpled and he had found this amazing. One of the engines still had a boxcar attached to it. This was where Gina had taken him. They had spread a blanket out in the boxcar and made love in a late summer sunset.

If they made it through this, he thought, he would take Gina back there and propose to her.

Screeching brakes snapped his memory back to the immediate present. He quickly and imperfectly folded the map back up and walked up the rubberized steps of the bus. He didn't have any idea how much it cost to ride. He dug in his pocket, thankful for the handful of change there. Without counting it, he dumped it into the machine by the hirsute, heavily-tattooed driver and something dinged. Apparently he had met the minimum.

"I don't give change," the bus driver said.

"I know," Jack said. "Does this go by Ettinger at all?"

"Fifth stop," the driver said. He pulled his hat down low over his brow and pulled the pneumatic lever that sent the doors hissing shut.

There were five other people on the bus.

Jack walked toward the middle. The middle seemed like a safe place. To his left, three rows back, an old woman sat with a plastic scarf over her perm. She looked up at him as he pa.s.sed, and crossed herself. That was unnerving, he thought. It made him think of Dracula, when Harker boards the wagon that takes him to the castle. Or maybe it was just because he looked so bad, trudging through the rain all morning.

Sitting down, he knew better. That old woman had seen something in his eyes. Something hunted. Something very afraid.

Staring out the window, he watched the suburbs roll past. Street upon street of medium-sized houses. Medium-sized houses in a medium-sized town. All of them were virtually the same save the paintjob and the landscaping. Then an idea struck him.

Wherever Mr. Grin and Gina were, it most probably wasn't in one of these houses. That would be too risky. He had heard her scream, loud and piercing. That would arouse some kind of suspicion in a neighborhood like this. In a neighborhood like the one Tim Fox lived in. Of course, that was a.s.suming Tim Fox was home. He might not be. He might be Mr. Grin. Jack tried to match the Mr. Grin he saw in his mind with the younger Tim Fox he'd seen in pictures. There was maybe something familiar there, like his mind was trying to find someone. Like it was really close to finding someone, but he couldn't come up with a place. Couldn't come up with a name.

The bus went through its stops and Jack sat in the seat, tension tightening his neck, throbbing in his temples.

By the time the bus reached its fifth stop, he almost had himself convinced it wasn't even worth bothering Tim Fox. It was a stupid idea. He was part of Gina's past. Probably never even thought about her anymore. And he may not even want to give the time of day to the man who had quite possibly taken Gina from him.

The bus made its fifth stop and he stood up, wanting to run, wanting to continue through the day as fast he possibly could. He stepped out into the cold, drawing it into his lungs. It almost felt welcome after the cramped steaminess of the bus.

Fourteen.

On his way to Tim Fox's, Jack worked out what he would say. It was an admittedly strange way to approach someone. He would have to say just the right things in order for the man to even let him in his house.

And what if Tim Fox is Mr. Grin? What then?

He didn't know. Would the bloodshed start right away? Would Tim Fox try and hide the fact he was Gina's captor? All of these things seemed so abstract to Jack that he had a hard time thinking about them.

He walked up the steps leading to the front door and took a deep breath. Reaching out, he knocked on the worn wood of the door.

The man who opened the door was not what he was expecting at all. The only pictures he'd seen were head shots, nearly ten years old. Maybe it was the same with every guy, but he pictured Tim Fox as either a threatening musclebound jerk or a totally hideous beast. Someone so pitiable as to make him wonder how Gina could have ever gone out with him or someone so perfectly masculine as to make him think the only reason Gina would have broken up with him was if he was some kind of violent lunatic.

Tim Fox was neither of these things. He seemed a lot older than Gina. The first signs of gray were starting at the temples of his otherwise sand-colored hair. He had a short beard, also flecked with bits of white. He wore a pair of stylish, round plastic-frame gla.s.ses. He looked like he could have been a college professor or perhaps a psychologist. Jack didn't know if Gina had ever said what it was he did for a living. It also occurred to him that maybe this wasn't Gina's Tim Fox. After all, it couldn't be that uncommon of a name.

"Can I help you?" Fox said. He raised his eyebrows when he spoke, a gesture Jack always found condescending. He looked tired.

"Maybe," Jack said, deciding to just launch into his story before this guy could raise serious questions about him. "My name is Jack Orange. You don't know me but I believe you used to know my girlfriend, Gina Black."

At this his face lit up a little bit, the way a person's will when they think about someone they haven't thought about for a long time.

"Yes, Gina..." Then his look grew immediately concerned. "Is she okay?"

"Well, I hope so," Jack said. "Although, I was wondering if I could ask you a few things about her."

Fox glanced back into the house.

Jack's heart skipped a beat.

Was he hiding something? Was that what that look meant?

"I guess you should come in out of the rain," he offered. "But we'll have to keep our voices down. I just put the baby down for her nap."

"This shouldn't take very long."

"Come on in." His voice was low, soothing. Jack supposed Gina had felt a great sense of comfort when around this man. Then he remembered she had ultimately left him because he was f.u.c.king someone else.

Jack followed Tim through the living room and into the kitchen at the back of the house.

Tim pulled out a wooden chair and gestured for Jack to sit down. "Can I get you something to drink?" he asked.

"No, but thanks."

Tim pulled out the chair across from Jack, sat down, crossed his legs and said, "So what's up?"

"I know you and Gina were together for quite a while. Believe me, I wish there was someone else I could bother with this but I know that no one knows another person like a lover. They're the ones that see just about every side of a person. Especially all the really ugly sides."

Tim furrowed his brow but nodded at the same time. "I think I'd have to agree with you. Are you sure Gina's okay?"

"Well, physically, I guess, she's fine. I was just kind of wondering if she ever seemed, I don't know... dangerous to you?"

"Gina was certainly an interesting woman. She had a few different sides. You probably know that."

"I'm afraid maybe this goes beyond that. To be honest with you, she's in the wellness center."

"Really?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "Any particular reason?"

"I think she's delusional. And she's developed a drinking problem."

"Hmmm. I didn't know she touched the stuff." So he did know her. "As for the delusional part... I can see that."

"I'm just kind of wondering... and her doctor is just kind of wondering if it's just me or if these are patterns in her behavior. You know, has she been like this forever or is it just me making her crazy? I mean, was she ever violent when she was with you? Did she ever run off and not come back for days?"

"Let's see... Again, I couldn't really say about the drinking. When she was with me, she never touched the stuff but it's entirely possible she developed a taste for it. She always had a problem letting go. I don't recall her ever being violent and the only time she ran off was when she decided she was going to start sleeping at your place."

Jack lowered his head. Only a few minutes and Tim had already made him feel guilty. He didn't have time for guilt. He decided to trudge ahead with his line of questioning.

"But you said you could understand the delusional part. Did she ever have any delusions?"

"I don't know that I would call them delusions, really. She just... she just didn't think the way everybody else did. Did she ever take you to that field... with the trains?"

Immediately, it felt like Tim had stolen a vital part of their relationship. Jack nodded his head and scratched the idea of proposing to Gina there.

"Well, she called that 'When Two Worlds Collide.' Like it was a painting that needed a t.i.tle or something. So we would stand in that freight car." A little grin played at the corner of his mouth. "Well, if you've been there with her, then you know it wasn't just standing we were doing. Anyway, she said that if you were to go through the freight car... like out the other side? You would find yourself in a different world entirely. So I was always coaxing her to do this. I would do it myself. Just to tease her, you know. Hop out on the far side of the freight car and then hop back in." He spread out his arms. "Still here. I'm still here, Gina, I would tell her. But she was terrified. Refused to do it herself. Said she was afraid if she went out then she wouldn't be coming back. I always thought that was a little bit odd."

Tim's back was to the refrigerator. Jack's back was to the opening of the living room. He heard a shuffling noise and was immediately on his feet. Tim had mentioned a baby. Jack didn't think a baby could be creeping up behind him. Tim stood up with Jack, his eyes full of alarm.

Jack turned around to see a blonde girl who couldn't have been more than sixteen.