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sun coming hard through the driver’s-side window. He put the
gun in his lap and then back on the seat again and kept on going.
And finally, he was there, in the town where she was living.
Southport.
* * *
He drove slowly through town, detouring around a street fair,
occasionally consulting the directions he’d printed out on the
computer before he left. He pulled a shirt from the duffel bag and
placed it over the gun to conceal it.
It was a small town with neat, well-kept houses. Some were
typically Southern, with wide porches and magnolia trees and
American flags waving from poles, others reminded him of homes
in New England. There were mansions on the waterfront. Sunlight
dappled the water in the spaces between them and it was hot as
hell. Like a steam bath.
Minutes later, he found the road where she lived. On the left, up
ahead, was a general store and he pulled in to buy some gas and a
can of Red Bull. He stood behind a man buying charcoal and
lighter fluid. At the register, he paid the old woman. She smiled
and thanked him for coming, and commented in that nosy way
that old women have that she hadn’t seen him around before. He
told her he was in town for the fair.
As he turned back onto the road, his pulse raced at the knowledge
that it wasn’t far now. He rounded a bend and slowed the car. In
the distance, a gravel road came into view. The directions
indicated that he was supposed to turn but he didn’t stop the car.
If Erin was home, she would recognize his car immediately, and
he didn’t want that. Not until he had everything ready.
He turned the car around, searching for an out-of-the-way place to
park. There wasn’t much. The store parking lot, maybe, but
wouldn’t someone notice if he parked it there? He passed the store