Chapter Three
McCall and Scott had spent the afternoon strolling around the new exhibit at the MOMA, before going to Pete's for a beer and conversation. Even though their relationship recently had been good, they never seemed to catch up. There was so much they had missed when McCall was obsessed with his job, and Scott was growing up, practically fatherless. Scott had a date later that evening, so they had gone their separate ways about 5:00. Now it was near 6:00, and McCall was looking forward to a good dinner with Barbara.
As he walked in the door, he immediately saw the note, which she'd left on the table in the entrance. He didn't know what to make of it. She had left? Simply gone away, leaving only this note? McCall crumpled the paper in anger. How could she just leave without telling him anything? The note said not to worry. How could he not worry? A few days? How long was a few days? Damn her, he thought.
As he was taking off his overcoat and muffler, another, more unpleasant thought struck him: Had she left him? Was she ever coming back? He had pushed for their marriage; she probably would have been just as happy continuing to "live in sin," as she called it. He threw the coat and muffler on the sofa, worried more than he would have thought.
Loosening his tie, McCall poured himself a stiff drink and went to the window, gazing out but not seeing. Should he just accept that she was gone and do nothing? Or should he try to find her, he asked himself? She'd probably be very upset with him if he tried to find her, he knew that. She'd tell him that she was her own person and could do what she wanted without his interference. Bloody hell, he swore to himself, HE was upset. Didn't he have rights in this marriage, too? He loved her, but sometimes she was very hard to live with.
He mulled over how he could find out where she'd gone. There had been no indication this morning that she was going anywhere. Had she used the phone? Again he asked himself if he should trace her. Damn it, she was his wife, he told himself. He had a right to know what she was doing, didn't he?
The first thing he did was press the redial button. It was a hotel in Miami. Miami? Why Miami? Who did she know in Miami, he asked himself? There was so much he didn't know about his wife; she could easily have a friend—or an enemy—in Miami. Or was it something else? Scanning his memory, he remembered there was an international conference in Miami this week. Could her absence have anything to do with that?
Sitting down with his drink, he weighed his options. One was doing nothing. He could call her at the hotel and argue with her. Or, he could follow her to Miami. He didn't like any of them. Damn it, why did she do this?