She stared up at him, at the lived-in, beat-up face and the eyes thatlooked as old as time. Closing his eyes, he gave himself over to it. And the worry for Josh's well-being had intensified with the discoveryof the bloodstains in the van. But there were no tangible results.
Megan? he called, pounding on the heavy old door. Cops and volunteers came in and left theroom, bringing in fliers and food, taking out scrawled notes and faxmessages. She struggledagainst him, tried to kick him, but her heart wasn't in it. The sound of his own voice rang in his ears-the fury, the volume, thename.
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