"I am in love with her!"
"Tell her, not me."
"I'm trying to, damn it. And I can't tell you how comforting it is to know that everybody in the city is in on my private business."
"You brought it on yourself. The price of stupidity."
Heath hung up and tried to think, but until he could get somebody to talk to him, he was screwed. As he stood on Annabelle's porch, he flicked through his messages. None of them were from her. Why the hell couldn't everybody leave him alone? He rubbed his jaw and realized he'd forgotten to shave for the second day in a row, and with the way he was dressed, he'd be lucky if he didn't get arrested for vagrancy, but he'd pulled on the first things he grabbed: designer navy slacks, a ripped black-and-orange Bengals T-shirt, and a paint-smeared red Cardinals windbreaker Bodie had picked up somewhere and left in his closet.
Finally, he got hold of Kevin. "It's Heath. Have you-"
"All I'm saying is this… For a supposedly bright guy, you re-
"I know, I know. Did Annabelle spend the night at your house?"
"No, and I don't think she was with any of the other women either."
Heath sank down on Annabelle's front step. "You've got to find out where she went."
"You think they'd tell me? The girls have a big no boys allowed sign plastered all over their little pink clubhouse."
"You're my best shot. Come on, Kev."
"All I know is that the book club is meeting at one o'clock today. Phoebe takes Mondays off during the season, and it's at her house. Molly's been making leis, so they've got some kind of Hawaiian theme going."
Annabelle loved the book club. Of course, she'd be there. She'd run to those women for comfort and support as fast as those small feet would carry her. They'd give her what she wasn't getting from him.
"One more thing," Kevin said. "Robillard's been calling everybody trying to get hold of you."
"He can wait."
"Did I hear you right?" Kevin said. "This is Dean Robil-lard we're talking about. Apparently, after months of screwing around, he's developed an urgent need for an agent."
"I'll get to him later." Heath headed for the street and his car.
"Would that be about the same time you get around to congratulating me on yesterday's game, arguably the best of my career?"
"Yeah, congratulations. You're the best. I've got to go."
"Okay, slimeball, I don't know who you are or what you're up to, but put my agent back on the phone right now."
Heath hung up. And then it hit him. He'd seen Dean's number on his phone log, but he'd been ignoring the calls. What if Annabelle hadn't spent the last two nights with one of her girlfriends? What if she'd gone running to her pet quarterback?
Dean picked up his phone on the second ring. "Daffy Dan's Porno Palace."
"Is Annabelle with you?"
"Heathcliff? Damn, man, you really screwed her over."
"I know that, but how do you know it?"
"Phoebe's secretary."
"Are you sure it wasn't Annabelle who told you? Has she been with you?"
"I haven't seen her or talked to her, but if I do, I'm going to strongly suggest she tell you to-"
"I love her!" Heath hadn't meant to shout, but he couldn't stop himself, and the woman who'd just emerged from the house across the street scurried back inside. "I love her," he repeated in a voice that was only marginally quieter, "and I need to tell her that. But I have to find her first."
"I doubt she'll call me. Not unless that pregnancy test-"
"I'm warning you, Robillard, if I find out you know where she went, and you aren't telling me, I'll break every goddamn bone in that million-dollar shoulder of yours."
"The boy's talkin' smack, and it's not even lunchtime. You are so whipped. Now here's the thing, Heathcliff, the reason I've been calling you. A couple of high rollers at Pepsico contacted me, and-"
Heath hung up on God's gift to the NFL, hit the button to unlock his car, and set off for the Loop and Birdcage Press. The book club meeting wasn't scheduled until one, which gave him time to cover an extra base.
"I spoke with Molly this morning." Annabelle's former fiance surveyed Heath's unshaven jaw and mismatched outfit from behind her desk in the marketing department of Molly's publishing company. "I hurt Annabelle more than enough. Did you have to dump on her, too?"
Rosemary wasn't the most attractive woman Heath had ever seen, but she was well dressed and dignified. Way too dignified. Completely the wrong person for Annabelle. What the hell had she been thinking? "I didn't set out to dump on her."
"I'm sure you thought you were doing her a huge favor when you proposed," Rosemary drawled. Then she proceeded to blister Heath with a way too insightful lecture on male in-sensitivity, exactly what he didn't need to hear right now. He escaped as quickly as he could.
As he made his way back to his car, he saw that half a dozen more calls had come in, none of them from the person he wanted to talk to. He tore the parking ticket off his windshield and headed for the Ike. By the time he reached the expressway, his stomach was a mass of knots. He told himself she'd come home sooner or later, that this wasn't an emergency. But nothing could still his sense of urgency. She was in pain because of him-suffering from his stupidity-and that was intolerable.
He hit a traffic backup on the East West Tollway and didn't reach the Calebow house until one-fifteen. He scanned the cars lining the driveway for an ugly green Crown Victoria, but Annabelle's car was MIA. Maybe she'd ridden with somebody else. But as he rang the bell, he couldn't shake off a sense of foreboding.
The door swung open, and he gazed down at Pippi Tucker. Stumpy blond pigtails stuck out on each side of her head, and she held a menagerie of stuffed animals against her flat chest. "Pwince! I didn't go to preschool today 'cause my school got busted water pies."
"Is that right? Is, uh, Annabelle here?"
"I been playing with Hannah's stuffed animals. Hannah's at school. She don't have busted water pies. Can I see your phone?"
"Pip?" Phoebe appeared in the hallway. She wore black slacks and a purple turtleneck draped with a blue and yellow paper lei. She took in Heath's unkempt appearance through a pair of rimless half glasses. "I hope the police caught whoever mugged you."
Pippi hopped up and down. "Pwince is here!"
"I see." Phoebe set her hand on the child's shoulder without taking her eyes off Heath. "Did you come all the way out here to gloat? I wish I were a big enough person to congratulate you on your new client, but I'm not."
He wedged past her into the foyer. "Is Annabelle here?"
She pulled off her glasses. "Go ahead. Tell me all the ways you plan to bankrupt me."
"I don't see her car."
Her cat's eyes narrowed. "You've talked to Dean, right?"
"Yeah, but he didn't know where Annabelle was." Grilling Phoebe was a waste of time, and he headed for the living room, which was spacious and rustic, with exposed beams and a loft. The book club had gathered in a nook beneath it, all of them except Annabelle. Even casually dressed and draped in paper leis, they were an intimidating bunch of women, and as he crossed the room, he felt their eyes on him like hypodermics. "Where is she? And don't tell me you don't know."
Molly uncrossed her legs and rose. "We do know, and we've been ordered to keep our mouths shut. Annabelle wants time to herself."
"She just thinks she does. I have to talk to her."
Gwen regarded him over her enormous stomach like a hostile Buddha. "Are you planning to give her more reasons she should marry a man who doesn't love her?"
"It's not like that." He gritted his teeth. "I do love her. I love her with all my frickin' heart, but I can't convince her of that if somebody won't tell me where the hell she's gone."