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” “I buried my husband today and you were there to help me get through it.” “Yes.” “If I hadn’t buried him I would have divorced him.” “You told me that,” I admitted. “He was a selfish, hateful son-of-a-bitch.” I sat silent, realizing that confirming her statement would be callous, especially in view of his youthful and tragic passing. “So, I was going to leave him and be all alone. Except he left me first.” “I know.” I was trying to be calm as her intensity seemed to be climbing. “And, even so, it hurts.” “I was thinking I was going to be all alone.” “Not for very long, I’m sure.” “No, I’m not, am I? I’m not going to be alone at all. I can always call on the nice, quiet guy in 2B, just like I did when Jerry got killed.” “Easy, baby,” I said, trying to calm her. “I’ll be here. You can come to me anytime you need to.” “No, I can’t,” she said with a shake of her blonde curls. “And you know why I can’t? Because the nice, quiet guy in 2B is a hypocrite!” She nearly screamed the last word.. He had to wait on traffic for a while, before he could get into the flow of the slow lane. While his rear wheels were still in the driveway of the service station, a motorcycle patrolman swerved in beside him. The bike moved very slowly across the sidewalk area of the drive, and the officer glanced toward the side of Paul's vehicle.A momentary chill traveled up his back, but he told himself it wasn't fear of discovery. There was nothing basically suspicious about his car, and he knew that even if someone took a look inside, there was little chance that the unconscious Pal would be found.A hole opened in the traffic, and he slipped out onto the highway with normal speed. He watched in the mirror as the motorcycle moved on into the service station and pulled up in the relative coolness of the shade beneath the service canopy. He grinned and picked up speed, gradually working over into the faster lanes, until he was barreling along at seventy in the speed lane.He reassessed the.
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