18

THEY LAY IN SILENCE.

“That static electricity you give off – I saw sparks in the darkness,” Coltrane said.

“I felt sparks.”

“I’ve never experienced anything like…”

“Yes.”

He drew a hand along her smooth thigh, along her flat stomach, over each of her breasts. He had the sensation of worshiping. Now it was his turn to say “Yes.”

“You’ve chased away the nightmares.”

“I’ll always chase them away,” Coltrane said. He suddenly remembered that Randolph Packard and Rebecca Chance had probably made love in this very room on this very bed. So long ago. And now he had made love here with Rebecca Chance’s look-alike, possibly with her granddaughter.

“Not alone,” Tash murmured.

“That’s right,” Coltrane said. “You won’t be alone any longer.”

She sighed, snuggling against him, her weight settling, her body relaxing. Soon she drifted off to sleep, her breathing slow, steady, and faint.

But Coltrane didn’t sleep for a long while. He was unable to adjust to her presence next to him, to the heart-swelling reality of what they had done.

TEN

1

HE AWOKE WITH A RISING FEAR THAT IT HAD ALL BEEN A DREAM, that Tash wouldn’t be lying next to him.

But she was, her eyes flickering slowly open, focusing warmly on him.

“Hi.” Her smile was welcoming.

“Hi.”

She touched his cheek. “Sleep well?”

“When I got myself calmed down.”

She chuckled.

“And you?” Coltrane asked. “How did you sleep?”

“For the first time in a long while, I’m not waking up more exhausted than when I went to bed. Heaven knows, I ought to feel exhausted after the workout we gave ourselves.”

“Maybe we need a massage therapist.”

Tash stretched, her breasts lifting, her naked body shifting next to him. “Oh, I think any aches we’ve got we can make feel better by ourselves.”

Yes, everything is going to be fine, Coltrane thought. He had worried that she would wake up with remorse, telling him that it had all been a mistake, that they had to pretend it had never happened and just be friends, although she regretted that being friends would be almost impossible after what they had done, and maybe it would be better if they didn’t see each other again.

But Tash was so at ease with their being in bed together that he felt joyous.

“What about you?” she asked. “Have you got any aches that need feeling better?”

“One.”

“Show me.”

“Here,” Coltrane said.

“Oh, yes, I can see why that would ache.”

“What do you suppose we should do about it?”

“Well, there’s a remedy the natives in Bora Bora practice.”

“You’ve been there?”

“No, but I took a correspondence course in their customs. Of course, there’s nothing like hands-on experience. What I learned is that, when this kind of ache comes up, there’s a particular spot that has to be massaged.”

“Smart natives.”

“Not there. Whatever are you thinking of?”

“I…”

“Past there. Behind it. Shall I explain what they discovered?”

“Absolutely. As long as you keep… I’ve got nothing else on my mind.”

“Behind your testicles.”

“Yes, I’m listening.”

“In the crutch of your legs, there’s a cord that leads from…”

“Yes, I feel it.”

“… your prostate to your testicles. And when I draw my index finger back and forth along that cord… So gently. With the flat of my finger. Are you sure I’m not boring you?”

“Definitely not.”

“Because if I am boring you…”

“No, please, keep…”

“When I trace my index finger along this cord, you’ll notice that it gets larger.”

“… Yes.”

“And that your testicles compact.”

“Yes.”

“And that the more I stroke this cord, your penis gets harder, your cord gets more swollen, your testicles get… What’s the matter? The cat got your tongue?” Tash asked.

“Something’s got something else of me. But the ache’s getting worse.”

“Then the treatment isn’t working. I’d better stop.”

“No. The treatment’s going to work. I’m sure of it.”

“I think it is, too. But I suddenly realized that I forgot the most important part. I have to position myself like this and lower myself down onto you like this and…”

“Yes.”

2

AFTERWARD, he lay spent, so relaxed that he didn’t move until a few minutes after Tash went into the shower. A high-pitched noise made him turn toward Tash’s purse. She had carried it up from the downstairs bedroom and left it on a chair outside the bathroom door. The cellular phone in the purse was making its unpleasant sound again.

“Hello?”

“Who’s this?” a husky voice asked. “Coltrane? What the-”

“Good morning, Walt.”

“What’s wrong with Tash’s phone? Last night, I tried for an hour to reach her. Now I’ve been trying for another hour. Nobody answers. She’s supposed to keep the phone with her wherever she goes.”

“And she has. I don’t understand why it didn’t…” Then Coltrane realized. “Until a while ago, her purse was in another part of the house. I guess we didn’t hear it.”

“House? She’s at your place? I thought you were taking her to a hotel.”

“Change of plan.”

“Put her on.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“She’s in the shower.”

Walt didn’t say anything for a moment. His voice was thicker when he spoke again. “You were right about microphones being in her house. I just got back to the station after the tech crew finished its search. There were bugs in every room. The SOB’s been listening to every word she said.”

“And everything you and the other men said when you were over there planning how to trap him.”

“We look like fools,” Walt said.

“Did you do what I suggested? Did you leave some of the microphones?”

“I don’t know what you think you’re-”

“Did you?”

“One. In the living room.”

“That’ll be enough.”

“But what’s this about?”

“I’ll explain when we get there. Two hours? The sheriff’s station?”

The bathroom door swung open. Tash came out with a towel wrapped around her, her wet hair combed close to her head, her features sculpted. She raised her eyebrows. “Is it Walt?”

Coltrane nodded.

Tash took the phone. “Good morning,” she said into it. Her voice was wonderful. She walked around Coltrane and pressed herself against his bare back. “No, it was a very quiet night. I went to bed early. I slept like the dead.”

3

THE DAY AFTER NEW YEAR’S, the Beverly Center was teeming with shoppers. The cavernous multistoried building reverberated with the rumbling echo of innumerable voices and footsteps. Coltrane was surprised. He had expected the place to be semideserted, everyone tired of shopping for Christmas, but maybe people were returning unwanted presents or looking for sales. Whatever the reason for their presence, they made it both easier and harder for him to accomplish his task: easier because he had expected to have trouble concealing himself while he took photographs of Tash’s progress through the mall, whereas the crowd gave him all the cover he needed; harder because the crowd also gave cover to his quarry, to anyone who followed Tash, showing undue interest in her and taking her picture.

He was on the third level of the massive shopping center, peering over a railing down toward the escalator that carried a steady stream of shoppers from the first level to the second and third. He was by no means the only one at the railing; otherwise, he would never have dared show himself. Across from him, several people drank coffee at a Starbucks concession. To his right, a group of teenagers leaned over, shouting down to friends. To his left, a middle-aged man leaned the other way, his back against the railing, sipping an Orange Julius while he waited for his wife to return from a dress shop that she had entered a few minutes after Coltrane got into position. Potted plants, pillars, and directional displays added further visual clutter, as did the continuous chaotic movement of shoppers just behind Coltrane. Anyone who suspected this might be a trap would take an awfully long while to spot Coltrane, and by then, Coltrane – or at least his camera – would have spotted him.