"Yes." Katie nodded. "I am. And you're right. Thanks."
Jo patted Katie's leg and winked as she unfolded herself from the steps and stood. "What are friends for, right?"
Katie squinted up. "Do you want some coffee? I was going to start a pot."
"Not this morning. Too hot. What I need is a glass of ice water and a cool shower. I feel like I'm melting."
"Are you going to the carnival today?"
"Maybe. I haven't decided yet. But if I do, I'll try to find you," she promised. "Now head on over there before you change your mind."
Katie sat on the steps a few minutes longer before retreating into the house. She showered and made herself a cup of coffee-but Jo was right, it was too hot to drink it. Instead, she changed into shorts and sandals before walking around to the back of the house and getting on her bicycle.
Despite the recent downpour, the gravel road was already drying and she was able to pedal without exerting much energy. Good thing. She had no idea how Jo had been able to jog in this heat, even first thing in the morning. Everything, it seemed, was trying to escape the heat. Normally, there were squirrels or birds, but as she turned onto the main road, she saw no movement at all.
On the road, traffic was light. A couple of cars zipped past, leaving fumes in their wake. Katie pedaled onward and as she rounded a bend, the store came into view. Already, there were half a dozen cars parked out front. Regulars who came to eat biscuits.
Talking to Jo had helped, she thought. A little, anyway. She was still anxious, but it had less to do with the Feldmans or other troubling memories than what she was going to say to Alex. Or rather, what he was going to say to her in return.
She pulled to a stop out front. A couple of older men were fanning themselves on the benches and she walked past them toward the door. Behind the register, Joyce was ringing up a customer and she smiled.
"Good morning, Katie," she said.
Katie quickly scanned the store. "Is Alex around?"
"He's upstairs with the kids. You know the way, right? The stairs out back?"
Katie left the store and went around the side, toward the rear of the building. At the dock, a line of boats queued, waiting to fill up.
She hesitated at the door before finally knocking. Inside, she could hear footfalls approaching. When the door swung open, Alex stood before her.
She offered a tentative smile. "Hi," she said.
He nodded, his expression unreadable. Katie cleared her throat.
"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about what I said. I was wrong."
His expression remained neutral. "Okay," he said. "I appreciate the apology."
For a moment, neither of them said anything, and Katie suddenly wished she hadn't come. "I can go. I just need to know whether you still need me to watch the kids tonight."
Again, he said nothing, and in the silence Katie shook her head. When she turned to leave, she heard him take a step toward her. "Katie … wait," he said. He peeked over his shoulder at the kids before closing the door behind him.
"What you said last night … " he began. He trailed off, uncertain.
"I didn't mean it," she said, her voice soft. "I don't know what got into me. I was upset about something else and I took it out on you."
"I admit it-it bothered me. Not so much that you said it, but that you imagined me capable of … that."
"I don't think that," Katie said. "I would never think that about you."
He seemed to take that in, but she knew he had more to say.
"I want you to know that I value what we have right now, and more than anything, I want you to be comfortable. Whatever that means. I'm sorry for making you feel like I was putting you on the spot. That wasn't what I was trying to do."
"Yes, you were." She gave him a knowing smile. "A little, anyway. But it's okay. I mean, who knows what the future might bring, right? Like tonight, for instance."
"Why? What happens tonight?"
She leaned against the doorjamb. "Well, once the kids are asleep and depending when you get back, it might be too late for me to ride back to my house. You might just find me in your bed … "
When he realized she wasn't kidding, he brought a hand to his chin in mock contemplation. "That is a dilemma."
"Then again, traffic might be light and you'll get home early enough to bring me home."
"I'm generally a pretty safe driver. As a rule, I don't like to speed."
She leaned into him and breathed into his ear. "That's very conscientious of you."
"I try," he whispered, before their lips met. When he pulled back, he noticed half a dozen boaters watching them. He didn't care. "How long did it take you to rehearse that speech?"
"I didn't. It just sort of … came to me."
He could still feel the remnants of their kiss. "Have you had breakfast yet?" he whispered.
"No."
"Would you like to have cereal with me and the kids? Before we head off to the carnival?"
"Cereal sounds delicious."
34
North Carolina was ugly, a strip of road sandwiched between monotonous strands of pine trees and rolling hills. Along the highway, there were clusters of mobile homes and farmhouses and rotting barns overgrown with weeds. He left one interstate and got on another, turning toward Wilmington, and drank some more out of sheer boredom.
As he passed through the unchanging landscape, he thought about Erin. Thought about what he was going to do when he found her. He hoped she would be at home when he arrived, but even if she was at work, it would only be a matter of time before she came home.
The interstate wove past uninteresting towns with forgettable names. He was in Wilmington by ten. He drove through the city and turned onto a small, rural highway. Heading south, with the sun coming hard through the driver's-side window. He put the gun in his lap and then back on the seat again and kept on going.
And finally, he was there, in the town where she was living. Southport.
* * *
He drove slowly through town, detouring around a street fair, occasionally consulting the directions he'd printed out on the computer before he left. He pulled a shirt from the duffel bag and placed it over the gun to conceal it.
It was a small town with neat, well-kept houses. Some were typically Southern, with wide porches and magnolia trees and American flags waving from poles, others reminded him of homes in New England. There were mansions on the waterfront. Sunlight dappled the water in the spaces between them and it was hot as hell. Like a steam bath.
Minutes later, he found the road where she lived. On the left, up ahead, was a general store and he pulled in to buy some gas and a can of Red Bull. He stood behind a man buying charcoal and lighter fluid. At the register, he paid the old woman. She smiled and thanked him for coming, and commented in that nosy way that old women have that she hadn't seen him around before. He told her he was in town for the fair.
As he turned back onto the road, his pulse raced at the knowledge that it wasn't far now. He rounded a bend and slowed the car. In the distance, a gravel road came into view. The directions indicated that he was supposed to turn but he didn't stop the car. If Erin was home, she would recognize his car immediately, and he didn't want that. Not until he had everything ready.
He turned the car around, searching for an out-of-the-way place to park. There wasn't much. The store parking lot, maybe, but wouldn't someone notice if he parked it there? He passed the store again, scanning the area. The trees on either side of the road might provide cover … or they might not. He didn't want to take the chance that someone would grow suspicious of an abandoned car in the trees.
The caffeine was making him jittery and he switched to vodka to settle his nerves. For the life of him, he couldn't find a place to stash the car. What the hell kind of a place was this? He turned around again, getting angry now. It shouldn't have been this hard and he should have rented a car but he hadn't and now he couldn't find a way to get close enough to her without her noticing.
The store was the only option and he pulled back into the lot, stopping along the side of the building. It was at least a mile to the house from here but he didn't know what else to do. He brooded before turning off the engine. When he opened the door, the heat enveloped him. He emptied the duffel bag, tossing his clothes on the backseat. Into the duffel bag went the gun, the ropes, the handcuffs, and the duct tape-and a spare bottle of vodka. Tossing the bag over his shoulder, he glanced around. No one was watching. He figured he could keep his car here for maybe an hour or two before someone got suspicious.