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too. Unfortunately, it was past my normal bedtime, and I was fading quickly.
    It was awful to imagine Mia sleepless and alone—feeling desperate, afraid, confused, and responsible for Lydia’s care. Or perhaps guilty. No good investigator could ignore the possibility—or even the likelihood—that Mia knew something about Bruce’s disappearance.

      
    The dark comfort of Dean’s car was a good place to hear Todd’s story, since keeping our eyes on the road made uncomfortable subjects easier to discuss.
    Dean had reassured Todd that he had no personal interest in what happened at the party—and plenty of experience with the bro code. The last thing he wanted was to share bachelor party details with a priest who was his date’s aunt. He simply wanted to understand Bruce’s state of mind. I held my breath for the details, which Todd had summarized nicely.
    The groomsmen had allegedly started at the hotel bar and made their way up to Bruce’s penthouse suite, where a stripper (whom Todd called “kind of a prude”) performed with a portable pole. After she left, they drank, smoked a little pot (as if “a lot” would cross the line into unacceptable), and ordered cheeseburgers, wings, and fries while watching porn. There were no drunken fights, except for a friendly debate over which movies to rent. They’d settled on XXX-Men starring Huge Jackoff and Star Whores with Jabba the Slut.
    I was glad Dean included that tidbit. If poop and porn weren’t first-date icebreakers, what were? We had to get comfortable talking about anything—and fast.
    When Dean had asked how intoxicated Bruce had been, if at all, Todd said everyone was under the influence but in control. He also said Bruce didn’t have any substance abuse problems. The party broke up around one fifteen, when Bruce said he needed to get some sleep so he wouldn’t “faint or ralph” at the altar. He’d stayed in the penthouse while the groomsmen returned to their individual rooms.
    The next day, everyone assumed he was prepping for the wedding, and in case he was napping, no one disturbed him. The groomsmen were due at the church at four thirty to decorate the just-married “getaway” car, and Bruce was supposed to be picked up at five.
    “They must have been worried about not talking to him all day. Weren’t people texting and calling him?” I said.
    “They were, but Todd said Bruce is a workaholic, and it’s not unlike him to go dark periodically. No one wanted to panic—or panic anyone else—until it was clear he wasn’t showing up.”
    “Why did they party the night before the wedding? Were guys coming in from out of town or something?”
    “Yeah. It was the easiest way to get everyone together.”
    “Did Todd say what he thought happened?”
    “He seemed baffled. What about the bridesmaids?”
    I told him about Sadie and the other women with whom I’d chatted. Everyone said there were no hints of trouble.
    “Do you think Todd gave you the whole story?” I asked.
    “Pretty much. It sounded like a typical frat boy night. If anything, I’m a little surprised they didn’t make Bruce do anything worse.”
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t know. Run around the hotel in a bedazzled bikini.”
    I laughed. “That’s a little specific. Are you speaking from experience?”
    He paused and focused on turning right at a red light. “I’ve attended a few bachelor parties in my time,” he said. “Actually, I’ve heard of grooms being kidnapped before the party as a prank.”
    “And returned in time for the wedding?”
    “Always.”
    “If Bruce had second thoughts, you’d think he’d just back out—or go through with it and then get it annulled. And the transplant thing confuses me more than anything, for many reasons.”
    My mind raced with possibilities. What if Bruce had gone for a drunken walk and drowned in the nearby Potomac River? What if he’d wrecked his car in a deserted location? The police were on the lookout for it, and