Page 118 of Absorbed

The girls nodded. Stacey headed for the elevator.

Chad kissed Desiree quickly, then trotted to catch up with Stacey. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

If you had to bet money on it, what do you think Mark has been doing the last two weeks?” Stacey asked, once they were on the freeway back to Mesa Valley.

Chad rested his elbow on the window frame and ruffled his hair with a sigh. “Getting stoned. Sleeping. Playing video games. You?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, too.” Stacey exited the freeway at County Line Road. “After that night by the hot tub, I haven’t felt right about those pills Mark takes. But, after all these years working together, don’t you think Bob knows about it, too? Wouldn’t he be worried?” She turned toward the golf course.

“Bob knows more than he’s telling us, I’m sure of it,” Chad said. “But Mark’s doctors give him those pills. They can’t be so bad. And Bob sees injured baseball players all the time.”

“Maybe I’m overreacting.” Stacey pulled to a stop behind a tow-truck at the signal. “Do you remember if Mark’s street is anywhere near the clubhouse? That’s the only part of the golf course I know how to get to.”

“Because of prom?” Chad asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Stacey said shyly, embarrassed.

“Me, too! No one in my family golfs, or could EVER afford to live in a neighborhood like Hawk Hill. I’m still totally blown away by Desiree’s place and we’ve been together for like two years. The one time Mark and I stopped by his house is the only time I’ve been by the golf course, other than prom.” Chad shook his head. “It’s not really by the clubhouse, but it was kind of on the way. Just go in that direction. I’ll see what looks familiar.”

Once the signal turned, Stacey navigated around the tow truck, past the Christmas tree farm and antique mall, then turned down Avenue L. Almost every yard they passed was dry and dusty, enclosed in chain-link fencing. Cars sat atop cinder blocks in what would be lawns if there wasn’t a drought, and large dogs were chained to the ancient oak trees that offered shade.

Stacey turned onto Country Club Drive, following a small green golf course sign with an arrow pointing right, and the whole environment was instantly different. “Look at this place,” she said.

Large rolling green lawns were divided by hedges, with beautifully manicured flower beds. The cars parked in driveways were buffed to a shine. Rather than the two steps and a railing that led to small stoops on Avenue L, the ranch-style country club tract-homes had wrap-around covered porches shaded by blooming magnolia trees, or large, shiny green palm fans.

Chad pointed to a cul-de-sac to the left. “Turn there. I think it’s close to the end on the right.”

There were only seven houses on the street, three on each side and one at the end. Mark’s big truck came into view, parked in a driveway beside a hedge of cypress trees.

Once she saw the house, Stacey could picture Mark, the former football star, being raised there. The gray house had bluetrim and shutters, its brick walkway was lined with red and white rose bushes. It was the kind of home that perfect American families occupy on TV, the kind of families she imagined would have a son recruited to play college football for a renowned team like Texas A&M.

Stacey pulled in beside Mark’s truck. She and Chad walked side by side to the front door. The house was dark. Chad tried the doorbell and knocked. There were no sounds of animals or people inside.

“If his truck is here, wouldn’t Mark be here, too?” Stacey asked.

“Not necessarily. He’s really good about not driving if he plans to get trashed.”

They stood in silence for a minute, looking around. A lawn mower buzzed in the distance. “What do we do now?”

Chad shrugged.

They walked back to the car and got inside. Stacey bit her lip, and focused on the dashboard, trying to come up with a plan. “What if we hunt down someone else Mark is friends with? Do you think Travis knows him well enough to have an idea of where he might be?”

“I don’t think so.” Chad looked out the passenger window at Mark’s truck. “Mark is two years older than Travis. I’m pretty sure they only know each other because of football.”

Stacey pointed to the handle in front of Chad’s knees. “I might have a piece of paper and a pen in the glove compartment. We could leave him a note. We could stick it in the mailbox, or wedge it in the front door?”

Chad spread his knees apart and opened the compartment. He pulled out a stack of stapled sales paperwork. They were sifting through to see what could be sacrificed when there was a knock on the driver’s-side window.

Stacey startled, accidentally bumping the car’s horn.

A nicely dressed woman in her late sixties stood there patiently with a soft smile.

Stacey rolled her window down.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked.

---