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“I love you,” he finally whispered.
She leaned forward and touched his face. “I know. And I love you,
too.”
26
By late June, the flower gardens in Dorchester that had been
ablaze with color in the spring were beginning to wilt, the blooms
turning brown and curling inward. The humidity had begun to
creep up and the alleys in downtown Boston began to smell of
rotting food and urine and decay. Kevin told Coffey and Ramirez
that he and Erin were going to spend the weekend at home,
watching movies and doing a little gardening. Coffey had asked
about Provincetown and Kevin had lied and told him about the
bed-and-breakfast where they’d stayed and some of the
restaurants they’d gone to. Coffey had said that he’d been to all of
those places and asked if Kevin had ordered the crab cakes at one
of them. Kevin said that he hadn’t but would the next time.
Erin was gone, but Kevin still looked for her everywhere. He
couldn’t help it. As he drove the streets of Boston and saw the
glint of gold brushing a woman’s shoulders, he would feel his
heart catch in his throat. He would watch for the delicate nose and
green eyes and the graceful way she walked. Sometimes he would
stand outside the bakery, pretending that he was waiting for her.
He should have been able to find her, even if she’d gotten away in
Philadelphia. People left trails. Paper left trails. In Philadelphia,
she’d used a phony name and phony social security number, but
that couldn’t last forever unless she was willing to keep on living
in cheap hotels and changing jobs every few weeks. To this point,
though, she hadn’t used her own social security number. An
officer from another precinct who had connections checked for
him, and that officer was the only one who knew that Erin was