And then later, in the penitentiary, he would sit nightly, unmoving, in the dark of his cell, looking straight forward through the bars of his cell door, seeing yet not seeing.
He always had the advantage at night, and tonight was no different. His eyes had been trained on the front entrance of the New York City Women’s Detention Center for nearly seven hours. As the daylight faded, he had to focus even more keenly as people came and went about their business. His back to a wall across the street, he continued staring, watching every single person who emerged.
Darkening winds whipped up the street to fly above him and around the building that rose like a mountain in the middle of a New York City block. He melted against the stone of the building.
Then suddenly, the hours spent hunched there against the building came to an abrupt end.
It was her.
The moment was perfect…just like he dreamed…the precise moment he saw her emerge from the giant front doors. A huge overhead lantern-fixture hung down in the middle of the old building’s entrance, glowing golden in the night and spilling light down over the steps. It bathed her body with light against the dark and when it did, the sight of her hit him hard in the gut. He sucked in wind so cold it hurt his chest and made his teeth ache.
The blonde hair, the pale face, the slight frame…the figure precisely matched the one etched into his memory.
He watched her step out of the building and into the night air. He refused to even blink, drinking in the sight of her as she stood for a fleeting moment on the gray-streaked solid granite landing of the NYPD. She was poised there, topping thirty or so sharp granite steps leading down to the street level, like a tiny, delicate marzipan ballerina decorating a giant cake.
She almost seemed to lean back and rest against the heavy doors. Her coat fell back, away from her body. He could barely breathe.
What was she thinking?
She could have absolutely no idea he was this close to her.
But then, none of them had.
How does it feel now, Hailey? The hunter is the hunted. The destroyer is being destroyed. Does it hurt, Hailey?
His eyes were sharp and he spotted the bandage on her left hand as she reached up to grasp her shoulder bag.
She was lucky to be walking at all. She better not complain. A few cracked ribs were nothing compared to what the others got.
When she pulled her scarf off to rearrange her blonde hair, he was nearly sliced in two by the sight of her face, pale after hours in lockup, blonde hair blowing against her cheeks.
The others in Atlanta had meant nothing to him. He couldn’t possibly have cared less when they died. He was only interested in that beautiful moment, the intense eclipse of pain he gave them at the very moment of death.
Maybe it was something the two of them, Hailey and he, could discuss back at her place.
As she came down the long flight of granite steps to the street, he stepped out of the shadow and onto the sidewalk.
She never even looked back, not nearly as sharp as she was during her days as a prosecutor.
This was going to be easy.
He tried to imagine the look on her face if she were to turn around by chance and see him so close, just behind her.
Would she be scared? Would she fight? Would she confront him, here in the streets, alone? Or would she turn and run as best she could with her ribs bandaged?
The thought of her trying to run from him made his whole body tense.
God, his hands had started to tingle in his coat pockets. The electric heat pulsed past his fingertips up through his palms. Even his wrists ached.
He was so close to her now, he could call out her name and she’d turn around.
He wondered if her hair smelled the same as it had in the courtroom five years ago. He’d been fantasizing about the inside of her apartment. He had gazed up at it from the street for hours at night, watching until her bedroom light went out. He could tell she left a light on somewhere, maybe the kitchen, over the stove.
Once he was inside, maybe he’d even find a scrapbook in her apartment. Maybe there’d be news clippings with him in it.
He knew in his heart she thought about him just like he thought about her.
The big difference was that he hadn’t made her suffer for five years in the bottom of a stinking hellhole.
He followed along behind her. It would be tough for her to get a cab tonight, especially in this neighborhood. It was cold as hell and late. She had a nice long walk ahead of her. He noticed she favored her right side as she continued walking, and he saw from behind that she was wearing old cowboy boots.
Nice. They were walking through the city together. How romantic. Just like a movie.
His fingers were starting to feel like they’d explode straight out of their skin inside his pockets, and his groin throbbed in sync with the blood pulsing through his temples.
He could feel it all. He was here, now…with her. He’d dreamed about this moment for the past five years, waking and sleeping.
Everything would be okay.
63
St. Simons Island, Georgia
THE BELL WAS RINGING OVER AND OVER, BUT IT SEEMED FAR away… Then something else…a pounding sound.
Virginia opened her eyes.
It took her a while to get her bearings. Why was she on the floor, wedged between the wall and a love seat? She was lying directly beneath a tall bedroom window and looking under the love seat toward her bedroom door. She could make out the bottoms and legs of the furniture, and could see straight under and through to the other side of her bed, and on to the hall beyond the bed and bedroom door.
She closed her eyes again, her head in a vise of pain.
The house was still, completely still. As her vision corrected, she realized she was staring straight into a set of deep, brown eyes that stared right back at her, trained and unblinking.
Sidney.
The wiener lay flat on his stomach, all four sausage legs splayed out to his sides, gazing mournfully at her. Immediately recognizing she was awake, he army-crawled on his tummy across the carpet to where she lay trapped between object and wall. He crawled all the way, till they lay nose to nose. Lying on the carpet, inhaling his doggie exhale, she tried to speak his name. The pain in her throat was so intense she caught her breath mid-syllable.
She tried to roll over and up, but she couldn’t. Summoning up all the strength left in her body, she managed to rise up halfway and sit with her back against the wall, her head spinning with the effort.
What the hell happened?
Sidney’s joy that she was alive could not be contained and he began rapid-licking her calf. The wiener looked for the world like he had been crying. She tried to reach out to pet his head, but the fierce pain in her side wouldn’t let her extend her arm.
When she looked down at her right hand, she saw that blood had dried down two of her fingers where there should have been nails. The nails had been broken off backward.
What day was it? Why was she on the floor? Confused, she glanced around and spotted her phone and digital clock radio, both torn out of the wall and broken in pieces on the floor.
It all came back in a rush… the two men with no necks. The threats about the beach. Her shirt being torn from her…
She looked down with momentary panic and was relieved to see that the shirt was still around her waist and her jeans were still on, buttoned and zipped.
At least she only took a beating from the no-necks. It could have been worse. So much worse.
But how did they know? How had they found out about her?
And what about the others…her little band of misfits…her guerrillas? Had they been beaten as well? Were they even alive? Had they fought back? Could they? Could the two intruders possibly know how to get their names, much less locate them?