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of paper on the seat beside him, held in place by the Glock he’d
brought from home. On the backseat was a duffel bag filled with
clothes and handcuffs and duct tape. On his way out of town, he
stopped at an ATM and withdrew a few hundred dollars. He
wanted to smash Erin’s face with his fists as soon as he found her,
bloody it to an ugly pulp. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and
beg her to come home. He filled the tank near Philadelphia and
remembered how he’d tracked her there.
She’d made a fool of him, carrying on a secret life he hadn’t even
known about. Visiting the Feldmans, cooking and cleaning for
them while she plotted and schemed and lied. What else, he
wondered, had she lied about? A man? Maybe not then, but there
had to be a man by now. Kissing her. Caressing her. Taking her
clothes off. Laughing at him. They were probably in bed together
right now. Her and the man. Both of them laughing at him behind
his back. I showed him, didn’t I? she was saying as she laughed.
Kevin didn’t even see it coming.
It made him crazy to think about. Furious. He’d been on the road
for hours already, but Kevin kept driving. He sipped his vodka
and blinked rapidly to clear his vision. He didn’t speed, didn’t
want to get pulled over. Not with a gun on the seat beside him.
She was afraid of guns and always asked him to lock his up when
he finished his shift, which he did.
But it wasn’t enough. He could buy her a house, furniture, and
pretty clothes and take her to the library and the hair salon and it
still wasn’t enough. Who could understand it? Was it so hard to
clean the house and cook dinner? He never wanted to hit her, only
did it when he had no other choice. When she was stupid or
careless or selfish. She brought it on herself.
The engine droned, the noise steady in his ears. She had a driver’s
license now and she was a waitress at a restaurant called Ivan’s.
Before he left, he’d spent some time on the Internet and had made
some calls. It hadn’t been hard to track her down because the