back to the rides. Kristen wanted cotton candy and Josh got a press-on tattoo.
And so the hours passed, in a blur of heat and noise and small-town pleasures.
Kevin woke two hours later, his body slick with sweat, his stomach knotted with cramps. His heat-induced dreams had been vivid and colorful, and it was hard to remember where he was. His head felt like it was splitting in two. He staggered from the bedroom and into the kitchen, slaking his thirst directly from the tap. He was dizzy and weak and felt more tired than when he lay down in the first place.
But he couldn’t linger. He shouldn’t have slept at all, and he went to the bedroom and remade the bed so that she wouldn’t know he’d been there. He was about to leave when he remembered the tuna casserole he’d spied in her refrigerator earlier, when he’d searched her kitchen. He was ravenous, and he remembered that she hadn’t cooked him dinner in months.
It had to be close to a hundred degrees in this airless shack, and when he opened the refrigerator, he stood for a long minute in the cool air as it spilled out. He grabbed the tuna casserole and rummaged through the drawers until he found a fork. After peeling back the plastic wrap, he took a bite and then a second one. Eating did nothing for the pain in his head but his stomach felt better and the cramps began to subside. He could have eaten all of the casserole, but he forced himself to take just one more bite before putting it back in the refrigerator. She couldn’t know that he’d been here.
He rinsed the fork, dried it, and put it back in the drawer. He straightened the towel and checked the bed again, making sure it looked the way it had when he entered.
Satisfied, he left the house and headed up the gravel road, toward the store.
The roof of the car was scalding to the touch and when he opened the door, it felt like a furnace. No one was in the parking lot. Too hot to be outside. Sweltering, without a cloud or hint of breeze. Who in God’s name would want to live in a place like this?
In the store, he grabbed a bottle of water and drank it while standing near the coolers. He paid for the empty container and the old woman threw it out. She asked him if he enjoyed the carnival. He told the nosy old woman that he had.
Back in the car, he drank more vodka, not caring that it was now the temperature of a cup of coffee. As long as it made the pain go away. It was too hot to think and he could have been on his way back to Dorchester if Erin had been home. Maybe when he brought Erin back and Bill realized how happy they were together, he would give him his job back. He was a good detective and Bill needed him.
As he drank, the throbbing in his temples began to recede, but he started to see two of everything when he knew there should be only one. He needed to keep his mind sharp, but the pain and the heat were making him sick and he didn’t know what to do.
He started the car and turned onto the main road, heading back to downtown Southport. Many streets were closed off and he made countless detours before he found a spot to park. No shade for miles, just sun and endless, stifling heat. He felt like he might vomit.
He thought about Erin and where she might be. Ivan’s? At the carnival? He should have called to ask whether she was working today, should have stopped at a hotel last night. No reason to rush, because she wasn’t at home, but he hadn’t known that then, and it made him angry to think she was probably laughing about that, too. Laughing and laughing at poor Kevin Tierney while she cheated on him with another man.
He changed his shirt and tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans and started toward the waterfront. He knew that’s where he’d find Ivan’s, because he’d searched for the location on the computer. He knew he was taking a risk if he went there and he turned around twice, but he had to find her, had to make sure she was still real. He’d been in her house and inhaled her scent but it wasn’t enough.
Crowds of people were everywhere. The streets reminded him of a county fair, without the pigs and horses and cows. He bought a hot dog and tried to eat it, but his stomach rebelled and he threw most of it away. Weaving among the people, he spotted the waterfront in the distance, and then Ivan’s. His progress through the throngs was excruciatingly slow. His mouth was dry by the time he reached the door of the restaurant.
Ivan’s was packed, people waiting outside the entrance for tables. He should have brought a hat and sunglasses, but he hadn’t been thinking. He knew she would recognize him instantly, but he worked his way to the door anyway and stepped inside.
He spotted a waitress, but she wasn’t Erin. Saw another, but she wasn’t Erin, either. The hostess was young and harried and trying to figure out where to put the next group of customers. It was loud — people talking, forks clanking against plates, glasses sloshing in the bus tubs. Loud and confusing and the damn pounding in his head wouldn’t go away. His stomach burned.
“Is Erin working today?” he called out to the hostess, raising his voice above the noise.
She blinked at him in confusion. “Who?”
“Katie,” he said. “I meant Katie. Katie Feldman.”
“No,” the hostess shouted back. “She’s off. She’s working tomorrow, though.” She nodded toward the windows. “She’s probably out there somewhere, along with everyone else. I thought I saw her walk past here earlier.”
Kevin turned and left, bumping into people as he went. Ignoring it. Outside, he paused at a sidewalk vendor. He bought a baseball hat and a pair of inexpensive sunglasses. And then he began to walk.
The Ferris wheel went round and round, Alex and Josh in one seat and Kristen and Katie in another, hot wind in their faces. Katie had her arm draped over Kristen’s shoulders, knowing that despite Kristen’s smile, she was nervous about the height. As the seat rotated to its peak, unveiling a panorama of the town, Katie realized that while she wasn’t exactly thrilled with the height, either, she was more concerned with the Ferris wheel itself. The thing looked like it was held together with bobby pins and chicken wire, even if it had supposedly passed inspection earlier that morning.
She wondered if Alex had been telling the truth about the inspection, or if he’d heard her saying aloud whether it might be dangerous. It was too late to worry about it now, she supposed, so instead she occupied herself by staring at the throngs of people below. The carnival had become even more crowded as the afternoon wore on, but aside from boating, there wasn’t a lot to do in Southport. It was a sleepy little town, and she surmised that an event like this was probably the highlight of the year.
The Ferris wheel slowed and stopped, stranding them as the first of the passengers got out and others crawled on. It rotated a bit, and she found herself scrutinizing the crowd more closely. Kristen seemed more relaxed and was doing the same.
She recognized a couple of people eating snow cones as regulars at Ivan’s, and she wondered how many others were out there. Her eyes began to travel from group to group, and for some reason she remembered 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.
He veered left and right, working his way steadily through the crowd, studying people’s faces. He paused while an overweight couple waddled past him, eating corn dogs, their faces red and blotchy. He hated fat people,
