Treadmill by Warren Adler Page B

of the lost child.
    Cooper sensed that she was waiting for more of an explanation than he had given her so far, something in return for her hospitality.
    “It’s weird…about Parrish,” he added.
    “Everything about Parrish is weird.”
    “We worked out together for nearly five months,” he said, slightly embarrassed. “Side by side. Seven days a week. Didn’t really communicate very much.” Cooper felt himself holding back, studying the woman. She was friendly, interested, and to his surprise, she was not antagonizing, like Beth Davis. He felt comfortable. Attracted. Margo’s image flitted through his thoughts, but quickly disappeared.
    “We talked a little in the sauna. That was it. Then he just cut out.” He paused, cleared his throat. “Vanished.” He quickly added, “Vanished might be too strong a word.” He remembered that it was Beth Davis who had first used the word. “We were sort of becoming buddies. I guess I was curious. I started to check around, find out where to reach him. No big deal. Maybe he found a better gym.” He paused, studying her, surprised at the extent of his revelation, and his own odd compulsion to confide.
    In for a penny, in for a pound , he thought, wanting to tell her more. “Then things began to turn…well, fishy.”
    “Fishy?”
    She was concentrating, and the expression in her eyes varied between skepticism and confusion, but her attention throughout his explanation was intense, unwavering. For some reason, which at the moment he found difficult to explain to himself, he felt he owed her this explanation.
    He told her about Parrish’s file missing from the health club records, but he held back other details, his sense of being followed, his apartment searched, the incident with the FedEx package. She would definitely think he was paranoid.
    “Anyway, I did find out where he lived and I landed here.” He shrugged. “If he doesn’t show, he doesn’t show. Case closed.” They exchanged glances. “Hell, its kind of crazy. It wasn’t like he was a close friend. Maybe I should just back off.”
    “People move. This is Washington. High turnover,” Susan said, looking up at the ceiling.
    “All I wanted was the guy’s telephone number. That’s what started it.” He felt himself moving into forbidden territory.
    “Started what?”
    For some reason, she remained interested, which encouraged him to continue. It seemed so long ago that someone was actually interested in what he had to say.
    “Sorry. You’ll think I’m round the bend.”
    “What do you care what I think?” A brief silence hung between them.
    “I think I’m being followed. Worse, I’m sure someone has been in my apartment, going through my stuff.” He laughed nervously. “It started when I began to make inquiries about Parrish. What did I tell you? I must sound creepy.”
    “You do. Hell, I’m a nurse. I’ve heard worse. Carlton, my ex-boyfriend would have said: ‘All in the head.’ He should know. The thing with Parrish and me was all in his head.”
    She smiled, revealing incredibly white, even teeth. He felt the beginnings of something again, but he fought it away. Thoughts of Margo surfaced, immediately bringing back the memory of her betrayal. Never again. A warning bell clanged in his mind.
    “The thing with Parrish?”
    It was beginning to make sense to him now. Parrish, apparently was more than a neighbor, hence her invitation for coffee. More warning bells clanged. He waited for her to continue.
    “Carlton is…well…. He became fixated on Parrish.”
    “Fixated?”
    “Jealous. More than jealous. Off the wall jealous.” Susan suddenly put up her hand in protest. “No. He had absolutely no cause. Parrish is not exactly my type. His problem, unfortunately, is that he was…there.” She nodded, indicating the apartment across the hall. “Except that he really wasn’t.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Yes, you do. You said it. He was not very communicative. Actually, we