It was noon before Charlie woke up. The first thing he did was stand under the shower while listening to the opera Tosca. He sang in the shower. The crescendo of the “Te Deum” filled him with adrenaline. He pictured the villain of the opera, Scarpia, his hands shaking with ecstasy as he stands in the church singing his confession of lust. Charlie sang along with the villain.
“Tosca, me fei dimenticar, Iddio!”
Charlie’s body tensed as a second rush of adrenaline surged through him from head to foot. He let the aria end before stepping out of the shower to dry off. When he heard someone giggling in the hallway, he turned the opera down.
As he was getting dressed, Charlie noticed he had a phone message. He dialed for the message and learned Samantha was pushing their date back to later in the day. He frowned when she didn’t leave her phone number on the recording.
He examined his bruises again in the mirror. The black-and-blue discoloration in his face had started to change color. The edges of the bruises were yellow-green. It was ugly but a good sign. Charlie guessed he had another four days, may a loive, before the bruises would disappear completely.
If he had the chance to date Samantha again, he would extend his Las Vegas vacation an extra day or two.
He didn’t like the idea of being run out of Dodge. If things were going well with Samantha, Charlie would hang around long enough for his bruises to heal and maybe make up for his lame kisses the night before.
“You kissed?” Carol asked Samantha. “That’s a start, baby. And then what?”
They were sipping ice tea on the porch. Carol was up early after waiting tables through the night. Samantha was anxious about her second date in as many days.
“And then nothing,” Samantha said. “It was awkward. His mouth is still swollen. I think it hurt him to kiss.”
Carol moved her chair directly into the path of the sun. The umbrella in the middle of the table was closed. Samantha had to squint to see her.
“I can think of a way for him to forget his pain, baby,” Carol said.
“I’m sure you can,” Samantha said. She stood up to open the umbrella.
“Well, how was he? Swollen mouth and all.”
“Gentle. But I think he was holding back. He’s interesting. He has a lot of interesting hobbies.”
“Any of ’em include sex?”
“I didn’t ask. But if it helps, he has two sons, so he must not be a virgin.”
“The man has potential.”
“The man also has a wife, and I’m not totally sold on his story yet.”
They were quiet for a while before Carol said, “I can feel Beau again. I hate to admit it to myself, but I just know he’s around.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I can feel him.”
She had sensed her husband’s presence at work the night before. When the diner was slow, after the rush, Carol had felt as if she was being watched from somewhere out on the street. She volunteered for counter work so she could avoid being seen through the diner windows.
Later, when the night manager asked if she could work a few extra hours because another waitress had called in sick, Carol was eager for the overtime. She would work until the sun came up, she had thought. At least then she could see who might be watching her.
She told Samantha about her premonitions the past few days. She started to tear when she mentioned she had packed her things again.
“Are you sure you don’t want to try the police?” Samantha asked.
Carol used a tissue to wipe her nose. “Positive,” she said. “It’ll only make things worse. They won’t do a thing until he does something to me. I’ll be dead before they ever arrest him.”
“Where will you go?”
“California, I guess. Or north. Maybe where you’re from. I should be able to spot him coming up there, right, darlin’?”
She was trying to joke about it then, but the reality of the situation was unnerving.
Beau Curitan had tracked his wife down in New Orleans and again in Chicago. Both times Carol had narrowly escaped. With nowhere to turn, she accepted the offer of a friend she had met online, Samantha Cole, from Las Vegas.
“I wish he’d just die,” Carol said.
Samantha moved her chair alongside Carol’s lounger. She held one of her friend’s hands.
“I have to run again, I know it,” Carol said. “I don’t know when he’ll show up, but I can truly sense that man is near. He must have paid sombody to look for me. I guess he’s going to run through every dime we ever had to find me.”
“Do you want me to cancel my date? I hate to leave you like this today.”
“No way, darlin’. Uh-uh. You go and you enjoy yourself today. You like that man, I can tell. And it sounds like he likes you.”
They remained silent awhile. Carol wiped her eyes and sat up. She gave Samantha a quick hug.
“It does sound like he likes you,” Carol said.
“Except he’s married,” Samantha said. “I can’t just forget about that.”
Beau Curitan circled the third telephone number on his list with a red flair pen. He had just paid two hundred dollars for the three telephone numbers narrowed down from hundreds more off the CompuServe Internet chat lines. Each of the three telephone numbers represented a possible location where his wife was hiding and were based on the billing addresses and connecting modem lines.
The trick was recognizing Carol’s words in the Internet chat rooms, which wasn’t very hard because Beau knew his wife too well for her to chat without being noticed. He could recognize her favorite sayings and slogans. In fact, there were times when Beau thought he could actually hear Carol speaking the words he would read online as she typed them.
A few weeks ago, he had recognized his wife’s chat style from a screen name called LVBARTENDER35. Beau also recognized a similar style from the screen name RUN &HIDE. Once he gave the two CompuServe addresses, along with a couple of hundred dollars, to a technician, Beau was told the two addresses were from the same line. Then he paid another hundred dollars for the address of the telephone number.
Now Beau was closing in on his wife again. He already drove past the address twice during the day, but Beau hadn’t seen his wife. He called both telephone numbers, but no one answered.
Until now, that is. A woman’s voice he knew wasn’t Carol answered. Beau listened to the woman’s voice before hanging up.
He guzzled half a can of beer before letting go of a loud belch. He turned on the laptop computer he had bought back in Alabama after his wife first took off on him. He plugged the motel telephone line into his modem, then powered up the CompuServe program.
He kneeled back down to type in his password one key at a time.
HUNTER, he typed.