Eventually, the grave-spoken newscaster revealed that the victim was a tourist from Newport News who had vanished three days earlier after crashing his rented Wave Runner into a pair of copulating loggerhead turtles. Chaz fell back on the bed with a hoot of relief-his wife remained safely lost at sea.

Chaz had chosen to stay at the Marriott because of its proximity to Port Everglades and the Coast Guard station. His house was only thirty minutes away on the interstate, but he felt that staying closer and readily available to the authorities would fortify his credibility. It was important to appear to be keeping a vigil.

He was surprised when a reporter from the Sun-Sentinel tracked him down, but he didn't lose his cool. The reporter explained that she had been checking the daily police logs when she'd come across the missing-person report, which listed the Marriott as a contact point for the subject's husband.

"Have you heard anything yet?" Chaz asked the reporter, who said she hadn't.

"When was the last time you saw your wife, Mr. Perrone?"

"It's Dr. Perrone."

"Oh? What's your specialty?"

"Wetlands ecology," Chaz said.

"So you're not an M.D."

"No, I'm a biologist." Chaz hoped that the woman on the other end of the line couldn't hear the grinding of his molars. It annoyed him when people got snooty about addressing him as "Dr."

The reporter asked, "So when'd you last see Mrs. Perrone?"

Chaz gave an abbreviated version of the same account that he'd given the detective. The reporter didn't exactly sound riveted, which was fine with Chaz. A big splash in the media was the last thing he wanted.

"Do you have any theories about what might have happened?" the reporter asked.

"I can't imagine. You ever heard of anything like this?"