Robert Bidinotto - Hunter

She nodded frantically, biting her lip.

He took his hand away. “Good.” He knelt again, leaned right into her, rested his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes. His breath was foul, like onions.

“Now, before we get cozy,” he said quietly, “there’s a phone call you are going to make. And there are going to be rules for that, too, Susanne. You say exactly what I tell you to say. And if you say anything else-if I even begin to suspect you’re trying to warn the person-”

She felt his heavy palm on her shoulder again. His fingers lightly stroked the place where he had just squeezed.

“-then the pain you’ll feel will be nothing like you have ever imagined. Okay?”

She felt dizzy, as if she were about to pass out again. How was he free? How was he here? How could this happen?

She could not think. There was no will left in her.

Kill me now, get it over with, be done with it. Let me see my Arthur again…

“Stay with me, now, Susanne. We’re going to call your dear friend, Annie. And here is what you’re going to say…”

Bethesda, Maryland

Wednesday, December 24, 11:20 p.m.

They had been quiet for a while.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

She glanced up at him, clutching the small paper cup in both hands.

“It wasn’t true,” he said. “Any of what I said. I knew it when I said it. Look, you couldn’t have known who I was when we first met. And I went after you. So I know that what happened between us-and what we felt-none of that could be a lie. We weren’t faking our feelings. It was all real.”

“Then how could you say those things?”

It was hard for him to admit it. So he knew he had to.

“I wanted to hurt you.”

“But why?”

“Because I was hurt. Because I wanted so much to make this work. Because I loved you, but all the lies were killing it.”

“Loved?” she asked.

He saw her struggle to suppress any more tears, to regain control, to reassert her dignity. He suddenly understood the courage that it had required for her to get this far with him. Of the terrible price she had been willing to pay for her love. Of the price she had paid tonight. And even now.

He searched her eyes and searched his feelings.

“Love,” he answered.

Her chin trembled. But she did not cry again.

“I needed to know that,” she said. “Because if you hadn’t said that, then I couldn’t do this.”

She rose from the sofa, went to the kitchen counter, where she had left her purse. Brought it back with her to the sofa.

“I needed to hear that first, because I had to know that you trust me enough to still love me. That you trust me not to betray you. I needed your absolute trust- before I offer you proof that I wouldn’t betray you.”

“Proof? I don’t understand.”

“Dylan, there’s something important you don’t know. And if I truly wanted to betray you, I wouldn’t tell you this. The police-Cronin and his people-they have a sample of your blood. Of your DNA. They got it off that dog.” She looked at his arm, smiling weakly. “You know-that ‘poodle’ that bit you.”

A chill touched his spine.

“I didn’t know about the DNA,” he said. “I could tell you knew about the dog bite, though, from the way you reacted when you saw my arm. From that, I deduced that Cronin had told you about the dog.” He paused, thinking it through. “But now I realize that I completely missed something. It never occurred to me to ask myself: How the hell would he, or you, know that the dog had bitten me? Unless, of course, I’d left my blood behind?”

She nodded. “On the dog. That’s how they knew.”

“So they have my DNA.”

“No. They have some vigilante’s DNA.”

He saw what she meant. “Of course. They don’t know it’s mine. Because they don’t have a sample of mine to match it.”

“But I do.”

He watched as she poked into her purse. Came up with a small plastic bag. From where he sat, it looked empty. She looked at him and smiled.

“And now you can have it back,” she said, tossing it onto the coffee table.

He picked up bag. Held it up to the light.

Saw the fingernail clippings.

It took him a few seconds to get it.

She laughed. “Close your mouth. You look like an idiot.”

He stared at her, feeling numb. “You could have handed them my ass.”

She was still grinning. “True. And for a while there, I wanted to.” The grin faded. “Oh, how I wanted to. I was furious. You told me so many lies, from the beginning. You were lying to me even then, about the dog bite.”

He had to swallow hard. “Okay. So why didn’t you?”

She suddenly looked as if she were about to cry again. “You really are an idiot.”

He put the bag down on the table. Got up and moved to sit beside her on the sofa. Put his arm around her shoulders. She turned and pressed her face into his chest. He rested his cheek against her hair.

“Yes I am,” he said, holding her tightly.

After a while, she turned her face up to him. This time, the color of her eyes reminded him of steel.

“No more lies,” she said.

He nodded. “No more lies.”

*

They sat that way another moment. Just holding each other in silence. Restoring trust. Reconnecting.

A faint high-pitched tone broke the spell.

She straightened. “My cell.”

“Let it go.”

She put her hand on his cheek. “My father was in a bad way tonight.” She didn’t add: And I’m here with you, not him.

He kissed her fingertips. “I understand.”

She pulled it out and flipped it open. “Hello?”

Then looked surprised. “Oh. Susie! Hi. I was expecting-” She stopped, listened. Then looked concerned. “Right now?” She looked at Hunter. “I don’t know, I’m-” She listened some more. “Yes…no, not too long, maybe half an hour…I will… Sure, just hold on tight, girlfriend. Bye.”

She closed the phone. “That was Susie. She was in tears, really sobbing. She said something terrible has happened, and she needs me to come right away.” She stopped. “Dylan, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to leave you, not now, not tonight. It’s just-”

“Don’t be silly. I think we’re fine, now. You should go to her. In fact, maybe I should come, too.”

She shook her head. “No, let me see what this is all about first. If I need some help, I’ll call you, okay?”

“All right.”

He followed her to the door, helped her on with the long fox fur coat she’d left on a chair. He rested his hand on her shoulder as she buttoned the coat over her pale yellow evening gown.

“You’re not exactly dressed for an emergency,” he teased.

She smiled. Then they kissed. Clung to each other tightly, neither wanting to let go.

“We’re going to get through this, Annie Woods,” he whispered.

He saw that she remembered. This time, her eyes shone.

“Yes, we will.”

Tysons Corner, Virginia

Wednesday, December 24, 11:53 p.m.

Because it was Christmas Eve, traffic was almost nonexistent. Though snow had been falling for hours, leaving several inches on the ground, the plows and salt trucks had kept the main roads clear. So she made good time getting over to the Capital Beltway, then great time on it, heading south.

She got off on the Georgetown Pike, headed west about a minute, then south a couple of miles into the tangle of residential neighborhoods north of Tysons Corner.

Susie’s house was in a tony cul-de-sac. Expensive homes, their faces, yards, and trees blazing with Christmas lights, surrounded the circle at the end of the street, their driveways spreading out from it like spokes from a wheel hub. A solitary car was parked in the circle-an old white Chrysler that looked out of place. Probably some college kid home for the holidays.