Page 114 of Finding Amanda

He forced himself to pray. God was there, with them both, whether Amanda acknowledged Him or not.

He entered the Concord city limits as his phone rang.

"I have some news," Chris said. "I just left McIlroy. He recognized a name. Said the guy called a bunch of times when he worked for Sheppard."

Mark's heart pounded like the beat of a war drum. "Who is it?"

A slight pause. "I'm sorry, man. I should've trusted your instincts. The connection is Alan Morass."

His breath whooshed out of his lungs. Alan. Her confidant. A man she'd so easily grown to trust.

The man who might be with her right this minute.

"I have to call her."

"I already did. She's not answering."

Mark cursed, swerved around a compact sedan, and picked up speed. The rain had changed to snow, but it wouldn't slow him down.

There, just over the hill, he saw the sign for the bookstore. "I'm here. I'll call you as soon as I have her with me."

"Okay. I'll be praying."

Mark hung up the phone, parked the car, and ran to the door. His heart fell as soon as he walked inside. Ten feet beyond the entrance sat a table with two chairs behind it. A sign on the table read, "Meet Author M.L. Johnson today." The chairs were empty. The table, aside from the sign, was bare.

"Can I help you?"

Mark turned to the young man at the counter. "Amanda Johnson, the author, is she still here?"

"Sorry. You just missed her. They decided to pack up early because of the snow."

He forced himself to keep his voice level. "Who was with her, do you know?"

"I think he was her editor." The man turned to a roundish woman behind him. "Did you get that guy's name, the one with M.L. Johnson?"

"Sure. He was an editor out of New York. Alan, I think."

"What time did they leave?"

The man shrugged. "Fifteen, twenty minutes ago."

"And they . . . they left together?"

The man squinted. "Who are you exactly?"

"I'm her husband."

He reddened. "Oh, Dude, I'm sorry. Uh, they weren't . . . they were just like friends, you know?"

"Did they leave together?"

The man hesitated, seemed to vacillate. "Uh, well . . ."

"I'm not angry with her," Mark said as calmly as he could manage. "We're getting a divorce. It's just that . . . did she tell you she has a stalker?"

He cocked his head to the side. "No."

Mark blew out an angry breath. "She does, and I just foundout it's Alan Morass, the man she's with. If you heard where they were going, you have to tell me. Now."

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