Myrtle Beach

He used his cell phone to call Spencer. It had been a while since he talked to his friend, and he could not afford to have the man worried to death about him. He would simply shoot the breeze for a few minutes, tell his assistant that he was doing a bang up job holding down the fort in his absence, and then be on his way.

"I haven't seen him in almost a week," Rosa, one of the housekeepers, said when Matthew asked to speak to Spencer. The shakiness in her voice showed her nervousness.

"Everything is all right, Rosa. I just need to talk to him." He was calm and casual.

"I don't know what to tell you, Mr. Fox. I haven't seen him in some time," she reiterated.

"All right. Well, if you do talk to him, tell him to call me."

She started to respond, but was cut short when Matthew pushed the "End" button on the phone.

His next thought manifested itself as a shiver of fear. Was it possible that Spencer, his trusted associate and friend, was up to something? It was not like him to be so secretive. In short, Spencer knew enough about Matthew's personal history to be a threat.

Matthew checked into a small motel just north of Roanoke and, within minutes, had set up his makeshift office. A young boy worked the front desk, and he did not bat an eye as he assigned the guest an available room and handed over the key. Apparently, Matthew mused, the wrestling match on TV was more important than running a hotel.