For a short moment the two were as still as statues, eyes locked. They kissed again. Nilsson’s hands slid to the small of his back and this put the two of them firmly together.
His own right palm slid down her spine, stopping just below the narrow horizontal strap. He too pressed hard.
He felt her breasts against his chest, was embraced by the ambiguous, seductive aura of flowers.
Her eyes closed, then his.
They kissed harder, their mouths hungry.
Her hands went to his cheeks. He took her right and kissed thefinger that was enclosed by the serpent ring. She ran the black-tipped nail around his lips.
He looked past her, at the couch against the wall.
He noted a lock on the door and the absence of video cameras in the room—ironic considering what they were doing here.
Her eyes were making the same transit. Her gaze ended at the couch and she turned back and nodded.
They both started toward it, his arm round her waist.
And as they did, Shaw happened to glance to his left. He saw the frozen video image of Route 55. No cars were depicted, no trucks, no hitchhikers. Just the business end of a gas station with a quick mart across the road.
An establishment that Allison Parker might have pulled into sometime that afternoon and, when buying a soda or chips, might have asked the clerk a question about any nearby motels that were decent, or made a comment from which their final destination could be deduced.
He turned to Nilsson, who, he found, was staring at the same screen.
Their eyes met once more, a different gaze this time. He smiled. For Nilsson’s part, she gave a wistful laugh. Another long kiss and they retired to their respective workstations, each hittingplayat exactly the same moment.
PART TWO
HIDE AND SEEK
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER21
36
It was good for me. How was it for you?”
The hour was 6:30 a.m. and Sonja Nilsson was sitting on the edge of the couch in the monitor room, braiding her hair.
Colter Shaw sat up straight, wondering when the pain in his back would vanish. “I’ve had better.”
Her smile was both demure and seductive, not an easy combination.
At around two that morning, exhausted from examining videos, they’d decided they needed to surrender to sleep. Shaw insisted Nilsson take the couch. He locked the wheels of two office chairs, put them face-to-face and sat, resting his feet on the opposite one. He crossed his arms, tilted his head forward and slipped under almost immediately. This was a helpful talent for a survivalist, though one that could not be taught. He was simply lucky in his ability to doze anywhere, anytime.
The marathon viewing sessions of the night before had been only a modest success.
Shaw’s third camera—the low-def one at the service station—had caught Allison Parker’s SUV speeding north on 55, three miles south of Herndon, the home of the bus terminal and rental car agencies.
Just past that sighting Parker had crossed into Marshall County, where Ferrington’s guardian angel Marty Harmon had no clout when it came to government officials opening up traffic cams. Shaw had left a message for beleaguered Detective Kemp to see if he could access any videos up there. But the man had not called back. The odds he would? Ten percent, tops. If there was any good news in this it was that they also hadn’t spotted Merritt’s truck going north on 55 in pursuit.
Stretching, Nilsson said, “HEP is the land of overnighters. There’s a shower on every floor. Toothbrushes. Shave kits.”
Shaw’s beard grew in dark and coarse, curiously the opposite of what crowned his head. Facial hair didn’t bother him but it did make him look sinister, and considering what lay ahead today he’d take advantage of a razor.
“Next steps?” she asked, making coffee from a Keurig in the corner. She lifted an eyebrow and he nodded.
“I’ll talk to friends outside of the office. You keep going with employees?”