The Drowning Man by Sara Vinduska Page A

knowing wouldn't change what happened anyway. And yet, the guilt lingered. Or maybe something in him needed the guilt. Needed to continue punishing himself just like his father had all those years ago.
    He thought of Lora, how when he'd been with her he'd felt like a normal man again. He reached for his cell phone. No. His hand dropped back to the bed. That would be a mistake. They'd had dinner one time, that didn’t give him the right to burden her with his problems. She’d wasted enough of her time helping him.
    Exhaustion finally won out and his eyes closed.
     
    Newlyweds Killed In Early Morning Fire
    Trent saw the article on the front page and left the paper lying on the kitchen table in the firehouse. The headline was enough. He didn't need to be reminded of his most recent failure.
    Not up to socializing, he retreated to the workout room at the end of the hall. Scott gave him a quick glance as he got off the treadmill, grabbed his towel, and headed for the door. The other guys respectfully left him alone when he worked out. Some were a bit intimidated, maybe even afraid, of the intensity with which he attacked the weights, similar to the way he was when he was fighting a fire. Whatever. At least no one bothered him.
    Trent finished his set of bench presses and shook his head as he took off the hundred and eighty pounds. Forty-five pounds short of what he'd been lifting. He was making progress, just not as fast as he would like. He needed to get back in shape as quickly as possible. And the physical activity helped relieve some of the pressure and anger at the changes in the house. Not only Chad's absence, but the change in the overall vibe of the company. It would never be like it was before, no matter how much any of them wanted it to be. But maybe, someday, it would be good again.
    He put the weights back in their place and attacked the punching bag.
     
    Lora looked at the papers spread across her desk and her untouched bottle of water. She needed water. Not more coffee. She needed her damned headache to go away. She needed to stop thinking about Trent Barlow.
    One dinner together was no reason to spend so much of her time thinking about him. But she’d never met one of her case victims socially before, yet alone been attracted to any of them. And that attraction was probably what was keeping her from doing her job. She hadn’t felt a sexual attraction for a man in months. She sure as hell hadn’t expected to feel it for Trent. But there it was. At least it meant she was still capable of those urges. And that in itself was a miracle. It was one thing she thought she'd lost when she'd lost Erick.
    She stretched and rolled her neck. Getting old, she thought. She felt old. When she looked in the mirror now, she saw the slightest hint of frown lines.
    She forced herself to gulp down the bottle of water then went to the fridge down the hall and pulled out a container of coffee caramel swirl ice cream. Back at her desk, she propped her feet up, savoring each bite. Nothing like ice cream to make you feel young again. Tossing the empty carton in the trash, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and went back to work.
    An hour later, she was no further along than when she'd started. Lora knew she should go home and get some sleep but she didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not until she found something. They knew Simon Hewett's full name and not much else. But she’d been able to find no trace of him other than a few obscure references to his former life of crime.
    If she could find the connection between Caroline and Simon, that might give her something else to go on, but they'd never been seen together in public. They were polar opposites, there was no logical reason for them to be together.
    Unless he'd been in her hospital.
    Something else to check into.
    She rubbed her temples. It was likely Simon had disappeared, never to be heard from again. Still, they’d have the Las Vegas precinct keep an eye out in case he