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He grunts.

I turn back to look at him, feeling badly that he’s so depressed. “Elsie will be back soon,” I tell him, even though I have no way of knowing this.

“I sure as hell hope so,” he says sadly.

I go into my place, release the cats from their cases, and walk into the kitchen to fill their water bowls. My apartment is a mess. There are clumps of cat fur all over the rugs, CD cases on the floor, and dirty dishes in the sink. I water the cats then go into the living room and sit on the couch. I hold my head in my hands and think. I stare at the phone for a moment then walk over to the piles of CDs. I tentatively pull out a recording of Schoenberg piano pieces played by Glenn Gould. Then opt for Townes Van Zandt instead. I’m about to hit the Play button when the phone rings. I stare hopefully at the caller ID, wanting Attila’s cell phone number to appear there. But the little screen reads: Hildebrandt, Jane A.

I pick it up.

“Jane.”

“Ruby?” She sounds surprised. “I tried your cell phone and it was turned off. I thought I’d just leave you a message at home. I didn’t expect to find you there. What are you up to? Don’t tell me you’ve got the jockey with you, attracting trouble.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, I left him at the motel.”

“Oh. Why?”

“He was being difficult.”

“Ruby,” she says sternly, “I thought you were going to stop being fickle with men.”

“I was. I am. I’m not being fickle. He won’t talk to me and I’m not doing him any good. You don’t like him anyway.”

“I haven’t formed an opinion about him. I’ve barely even met the man.”

“Well, I’m not being fickle. He puts me in danger and furthermore I think he still covets his wife.”

“He’s married?” she gasps.

“Technically yes.”

I tell her what I know about Attila’s marital status and about all other developments, including the accident on the track.

Jane is upset.

“Ruby, why are you doing this?”

“I’m doing what I need to do. Don’t yell.”

“I’m not yelling.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Let’s talk about Liz,” I insist.

“What about her?” Jane asks. Liz, who I met last spring at Belmont when she was working as a groom, has become a good friend. Not long after I met her, she stopped working at Belmont and took a less taxing job at a riding school in Jamaica Bay. We’ve stayed in touch though and sometimes go to the races together. I was with Liz the day Attila came to find me in the grandstand and introduce himself. In fact, she’s the only one who didn’t disapprove of my dating him. She’s long coveted jockey Shaun Bridgmohan—though she refuses to actually ever try to meet him since she’s idealized him to a degree that borders on spiritual. Liz insists that watching Shaun ride is a nearly mystical experience for her. But she doesn’t want to meet him and I think my dating Attila has given her some sort of vicarious jockey thrill.

One night a few months ago, I invited Jane and Liz and her young daughter, Georgeann, to dinner. Strangely enough, Jane and Liz recognized one another. They’d apparently met in college some fifteen years earlier. The two never really got to know each other in those days but, after being unexpectedly thrown together again, they’ve grown close and now seem to spend more time together than I spend with either one of them.

“Where is Liz?” I ask Jane. “I’ve tried to call her a few times and I’ve left messages but I haven’t heard back from her.”

“Oh, she went to Florida for a week,” Jane says.

“Florida?”

“Yeah. I think she recently broke up with a guy and you know how she gets.”

“No, how does she get?” I ask. I hadn’t even known Liz to date anyone since breaking up with Georgeann’s father.

“She likes to travel after a breakup—whereas you just take up with the nearest jockey.”

“I’m not sure why you’re being so spiteful today.”

“I’m sorry,” Jane sighs. “I’m just worried.”

“I’m worried too,” I admit. “I don’t really know what the right thing to do is.”

Jane offers a few suggestions, such as calling the police or the FBI or, specifically, Ed Burke of the FBI. I tell her I’ll take it under consideration