She recognized a couple of people eating snow cones as regulars at Ivan's, and she wondered how many others were out there. Her eyes began to travel from group to group, and for some reason she remembered that she used to do the same thing when she first started working at Ivan's. Back when she was watching for Kevin.
Kevin walked past the booths that lined either side of the street, just wandering and trying to think like Erin. He should have asked the hostess if she'd seen Erin with a man because he knew she wouldn't be at the carnival alone. It was hard to keep reminding himself that she might have short brown hair because she'd cut and dyed it. He should have had the pedophile at the other precinct get a copy of the driver's license photo, but he hadn't been thinking at the time, and it didn't matter now because he knew where she lived and he would go back.
He could feel the gun in his waistband, pressing against his skin. It felt uncomfortable, pinching his flesh, and it was hot under the ball hat, especially since it was pulled low and tight. His head felt like it would explode.
He moved around groups of people, lines that formed. Arts and crafts. Decorated pinecones, stained glass in frames, wind chimes. Old-fashioned toys carved from wood. People were stuffing their faces with food: pretzels and ice cream, nachos, cinnamon rolls. He saw babies in strollers and remembered again that Erin wanted to have a baby. He decided he would give her one. A girl or a boy, it didn't matter, but he preferred a boy because girls were selfish and wouldn't appreciate the life he gave them. Girls were like that.
People talked and whispered all around him and he thought some of them were staring at him, like Coffey and Ramirez used to do. He ignored them, focused on his search. Families. Teens with their arms around one another. A guy in a sombrero. A couple of the carnival workers stood near a streetlight, smoking. Thin and tattooed, with bad teeth. Probably drug users, with long records. They gave him a bad feeling. He was a good detective and knew how to read people and he didn't trust them but they did nothing as he brushed past them.
He veered left and right, working his way steadily through the crowd, studying people's faces. He paused while an overweight couple waddled past him, eating corn dogs, their faces red and blotchy. He hated fat people, thought they were weak and had no discipline, people who complained about their blood pressure and diabetes and heart problems and whined about the cost of medicine, but couldn't summon the strength to put the fork down. Erin was always thin but her breasts were big and now she was here with another man who fondled them at night and the thought made him burn inside. He hated her. But he wanted her, too. Loved her. It was hard to keep it straight in his head. He'd been drinking too much and it was just so damn hot. Why had she moved to a place as hellish as this?
He wandered among the carnival rides and noticed the Ferris wheel up ahead. He moved closer, bumping into a man in a tank top, ignoring his muttered outrage. He checked the seats on the ride, his gaze flashing on every face. Erin wasn't there, or in the line, either.
He moved on, walking in the heat among the fat people, looking for skinny Erin and the man who touched her breasts at night. With every step, he thought about the Glock.
The swings, spinning clockwise, were a big hit with the kids. They'd ridden them twice in the morning, and after the Ferris wheel Kristen and Josh begged to ride them once more. There were only a few tickets left and Alex agreed, explaining that after this last ride they would have to go home. He wanted to have time to shower and eat and maybe relax before he had to drive to Raleigh.
Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop thinking about Katie's earlier suggestive remark. She seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts, because he'd caught her staring at him a number of times, a provocative smile playing at the corner of her lips.
Now she stood beside him, smiling up at the kids. He scooted closer, slipping his arm around her, and felt her lean into him. He said nothing, for there was no need for words, and she said nothing, either. Instead, she tilted her head, resting it against his shoulder, and Alex was struck by the notion that there was nothing better in the world.
Erin wasn't at the tilt-a-whirl or the maze of mirrors or the haunted house. He watched from the ticket line, trying to blend in, wanting to see her before she spotted him. He had the advantage because he knew she was here and she didn't know about him, but sometimes people got lucky and strange things happened. He flashed on the memory of Karen Feldman and the day she revealed Erin's secret.
He wished he hadn't left his vodka in the car. There didn't seem to be anywhere to buy more, not a bar in sight. He hadn't even seen a booth selling beer, which he didn't like but would have bought if he had no other choice. The smell of food made him nauseated and hungry at the same time and he could feel the sweat plastering his shirt to his back and armpits.
He walked by the games of chance, run by con artists. Waste of money because the games were rigged, but morons packed around them. He searched faces. No Erin.
He wandered toward the other rides. There were kids in bumper cars, people fidgeting in the line. Beyond that were the swings, and he started in that direction. He circumvented a cluster of people, straining for a better view.
*
The swings had begun to slow, but Kristen and Josh were still grinning with excitement. Alex was right about needing to call it a day; the heat had drained Katie and it would be nice to be able to cool off for a while. If there was one bad thing about the cottage--well, there was actually more than one bad thing, she supposed--it was that it didn't have air-conditioning. She'd gotten used to keeping the windows open at night, but it didn't help much.
The ride came to a stop and Josh unhooked the chain and jumped down. It took Kristen a little longer before she could manage it, but a moment later, the two children were scrambling back toward Katie and their dad.
Kevin saw the swings come to a stop and a bunch of kids jump down from their seats, but that wasn't where he focused his attention. Instead, he concentrated on the adults who were crowding the perimeter of the ride.
He kept walking, his eyes moving from one woman to the next. Blond or brunette, it didn't matter. He watched for Erin's lean figure. From his angle, he couldn't see the faces of the people directly in front of him, so he changed directions. In a few seconds, once the kids reached the exit, everyone would scatter again.
He walked quickly. A family stood in front of him, holding tickets, debating where to go next, arguing in confusion. Idiots. He skirted them, straining to see faces near the swings.
No skinny women, except for one. A short-haired brunette, standing next to a man with gray hair, his arm around her waist.
She was unmistakable. Same long legs, same face, same sinewy arms.
Erin.
36
Alex and Katie held hands as they walked toward Ivan's with the kids. They'd stored their bicycles near the back door, Katie's regular spot. On the way out, Alex bought some water for Josh and Kristen before they started toward home.
"Good day, guys?" Alex asked, bending over to unlock the bikes.
"Great day, Daddy," Kristen answered, her face red with the heat.
Josh wiped his mouth on his arm. "Can we come back tomorrow?"
"Maybe," Alex fudged.
"Please? I want to ride the swing again."
Finished with the locks, Alex slung the chains over his shoulder. "We'll see," he said.
An overhang in the back of the restaurant provided some shade, but it was still warm. After seeing how crowded it had been as she'd walked past the windows, Katie was glad she'd taken the day off, even if she had to work a double shift tomorrow and Monday. It was worth it. It had been a good day, and she'd get to relax and watch a movie with the kids while Alex was away tonight. And then later, when he got back...
"What?" Alex said.
"Nothing."
"You were staring at me like you were going to eat me up."
"Just drifting off there for a second," she said with a wink. "I think the heat kind of got to me."
&n
bsp; "Uh-huh." He nodded. "If I didn't know better..."
"I'd like to remind you that there are some young ears tuning in right now, so I'd watch what you say." She kissed him before patting him lightly on the chest.
Neither of them noticed the man in the baseball hat and sunglasses watching them from the deck of the neighboring restaurant.
Kevin felt dizzy as he watched Erin and the gray-haired man kiss, seeing the way Erin flirted with him. He saw her lean down and smile at the little girl. Watched as she tousled the hair of the little boy. Noticed the gray-haired man pat her on her butt when the children's attention was elsewhere. And Erin--his wife--was playing along. Liking it. Encouraging it. Cheating on him with her new family, as if Kevin and their marriage had never existed at all.
They got on their bikes and started pedaling, heading around the side of the building, away from Kevin. Erin rode beside the gray-haired man. She was wearing shorts and sandals, showing skin, looking sexy for someone else.
Kevin followed them. Her hair was blond and long and flowing... but then he blinked, and it was short and brown again. Pretending she wasn't Erin and riding bikes with her new family and kissing another man and smiling and smiling, without a care in the world. It wasn't real, he told himself. It was nothing but a dream. A nightmare. Docked boats wobbled in their slips as they passed.
He rounded the corner. They were riding and he was on foot, but they were moving slowly to allow the little girl to keep up. He was closing the distance and he was near enough to hear Erin laugh, sounding happy. He reached for the Glock in his waistband and pulled it out, then slid it beneath his shirt, keeping it pressed against his skin. He took off the baseball hat and used it to hide the gun from the people around him.
His thoughts ricocheted like pachinko balls, bouncing fast, left and right, downward, downward. Erin lying and cheating and plotting and scheming. Running away to find a lover. Talking and laughing behind his back. Whispering to the gray-haired man, saying dirty things, the man's hands on her breasts, her breaths coming hard. Pretending she wasn't married, ignoring all he'd done for her and the sacrifices he'd made and that he had to scrape the blood from his shoes and that Coffey and Ramirez were always gossiping about him and there were flies buzzing on the burgers because she'd run away and he'd had to go to the barbecue alone and she couldn't tell Bill the captain that he wasn't just one of the guys.
And there she was, pedaling easily, her hair short and dyed, as pretty as ever, never thinking about her husband at all. Never caring about him. Forgetting him and the marriage so she could have a life with the gray-haired man and pat his chest and kiss him with a dreamy expression on her face. Happy and serene, without a concern in the world. Going to carnivals, riding bikes. She probably sang to herself in the shower while he'd been crying and remembering the perfume he'd bought her for Christmas, and none of it mattered because she was selfish and thought she could throw a marriage away, like an empty pizza box.
He unconsciously picked up his pace. The crowds were slowing them down, and he knew that he could raise the gun and kill her right now. His finger moved to the trigger and he slipped the safety off because the Bible says Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the bed be undefiled, but he realized that it meant he had to kill the gray-haired man as well. He could kill him in front of her. All he had to do was pull the trigger, but then hitting moving targets from a distance was almost impossible with a Glock, and there were people everywhere. They would see the gun and scream and shout and the shot was almost impossible, so he removed his finger from the trigger.
"Quit veering toward your sister!" the gray-haired man said, up ahead, his voice almost lost in the distance. But his words were real and Kevin imagined the dirty things he whispered to Erin. He could feel the rage building inside him. Then, all at once, the kids turned the corner and they were followed by Erin and the gray-haired man.
Kevin stopped, panting and feeling ill. As she'd rounded the corner, her profile had flashed in the bright light and he thought again that she was beautiful. She'd always reminded him of a delicate flower, so pretty and refined, and he remembered that he'd saved her from being raped by thugs after she left the casino and how she used to tell him that he made her feel safe but even that hadn't been enough to keep her from leaving him.
Gradually, he began to hear the voices of people walking on either side of him as they passed by. Chattering about nothing, going nowhere, but it jolted him into action. He started to jog, trying to reach the spot where they'd turned, feeling like he was going to vomit with every footfall under the blazing sun. His palm felt slick and sweaty around the gun. He reached the corner and peered up the street.
No one in sight, but two blocks up, there were barricades blocking the road for the street fair. They must have turned on the street before it. No other choice. He figured they had turned right, the only way to leave the downtown area.
He had a choice. Chase them on foot and risk being spotted or run back to the car and try to follow them that way. He tried to think like Erin and figured they would go to the house where the gray-haired man lived. Erin's house was too small, too hot for the four of them, and Erin would want to go to a pretty house with expensive furniture, because she believed she deserved a life like that, instead of appreciating the life she had.
Pick and choose. Follow on foot or in the car. He stood, blinking and trying to think, but it was hot and confusing and his head pounded and all he could think was that Erin was sleeping with a gray-haired man and the realization made him sick to his stomach.
She probably dressed in lace and danced for him, whispered words that made him hot. Begged him to let her please him, so she could live in his house with fancy things. She'd become a prostitute, selling her soul for luxuries. Selling herself for pearls and caviar. Probably slept in a mansion now, after the gray-haired man took her out for fancy dinners.
He felt sick, imagining it. Hurt and betrayed. The fury helped his thoughts clear and he realized that he was standing in place as they were getting farther and farther away. His car was blocks away, but he turned and started to run. At the carnival, he pushed through people wildly, ignoring their shouts and protests. "Move, move!" he shouted, and some people moved and others were shoved aside. He reached a spot clear of the throngs of people, but he was breathing hard and he had to stop to vomit near a fire hydrant. A couple of teenage boys laughed at him and he felt like shooting them right then and there, but after wiping his mouth, he simply pulled the gun and pointed it at them and they shut up fast enough.
He stumbled forward, feeling the ice pick chip away at his head. Stab and pain, stab and pain. Every damn step it was stab and pain and Erin was probably telling the gray-haired man about the sexy things they would do in bed. Telling the gray-haired man about Kevin and laughing, whispering, Kevin could never please me the way you do, even though it wasn't true.
It took forever to get to his car. When he reached it, the sun was baking it like a loaf of bread. Heat spilled out in clouds, and the steering wheel was scalding to the touch. Hellhole. Erin had chosen to live in a hellhole. He started the car and opened the windows, making a U-turn back toward the carnival and honking at people in the street.
Detours again. Barricades. He wanted to blow through them, to blast them into pieces, but even here, there were cops and they would arrest him. Stupid cops, fat and lazy cops. Barney Fife cops. Idiots. None of them were good detectives but they had guns and badges. Kevin drove the side streets, trying to zero in on where Erin was heading. Erin and her lover. Both of them adulterers, and the Bible says Whoever gazes at a woman with lust has committed adultery in his heart.
People everywhere. Crossing the street haphazardly. Making him stop. He leaned over the steering wheel, straining to see through the windshield, and caught sight of them, tiny figures in the distance. They were just beyond another barricade, heading toward the road that led to her house. A cop was standing at the corner, another Barney Fife.
He surged forward, only to be stopped when a man suddenly appeared at the front of his car, banging on the hood. A redneck with a mullet, skulls on his shirt, tattoos. Fat wife and greasy-looking kids. Losers, all of them.
"Watch where you're going!" the redneck shouted.
Kevin mentally shot all of them, bang-bang-bang-bang, but forced himself not to react because the cop at the corner was eyeballing him. Bang, Kevin thought again.
He turned, speeding up, heading through the neighborhood. Turned left and sped up again. Turned left again. More barricades up ahead. Kevin made another U-turn, went right, and turned left at the next block.
More barricades. He was stuck in a maze, like a rodent undergoing an experiment. The town conspiring against him while Erin got away. He slammed the car into reverse and backed up. He found the road again and turned, then raced straight to the next intersection. It had to be close now and he turned left again, saw a line of traffic ahead, moving in the direction he wanted. He turned, muscling his car between a couple of trucks.
He wanted to accelerate but couldn't. Cars and trucks stretched before him, some with Confederate flags on the bumper stickers, others with gun racks on the roof. Rednecks. People in the road made it impossible for the cars to move forward, walking as if they weren't aware that any of the cars existed. People sauntered past, moving faster than he was. Fat people, still eating. Probably eating all day long and slowing the traffic while Erin got farther and farther away.
His car went forward one length and stopped again. Went forward and stopped. Over and over. He felt like screaming, wanted to pound the wheel, but people were everywhere. If he wasn't careful someone would say something and Barney Fife would investigate and remember his out-of-state plates and probably arrest him on the spot, simply because he wasn't a local.
Forward and stopping, over and over, movement measured in inches until he reached the corner. The traffic had to ease up now, he thought, but it didn't, and up ahead, Erin and the gray-haired man were gone. There was only a long line of cars and trucks ahead of him on a road that led nowhere and everywhere at exactly the same time.