Alvin hit the ground running the moment his shoes touched the office floor, his heart hammering a restless, frantic rhythm inside his chest. He hadn't even stopped at his own desk to set down his briefcase or strip off his coat; he sprinted down the silent, carpeted corridor straight toward Sarah's office. For the past forty-eight hours, an agonizing knot of worry had been burning a hole in his stomach. Two nights ago, Sarah had invited him out for drinks at that dimly lit, loud bar downtown—a place humming with pulsing neon and roaring music where the boundary between light and shadow blurred. They had been sitting together, laughing over amber glasses of scotch, when she casually slid out of the booth and murmured that she was stepping away to the restroom.
Then, she left without telling him.
