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emembered 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.