the darkness, but her body spoke the language of fear. Her torso was rigid and her arms were drawn in, pressing the briefcase to her chest, as if for protection.
“What else do you know about this guy?”
“Not much.”
“What do the girls think about him?”
“They ignore him.”
“Has he ever been threatening?”
“No. Not directly.”
“Has he ever been violent or out of control?”
“No.”
“Is he into drugs?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know who he is or where he lives?”
“No. There are some things we don’t ask. It’s an unspoken rule, sort of a tacit agreement down here.”
Again there was a long silence while we both weighed what she’d said. I watched a cyclist pass along the sidewalk, pedaling with unhurried strokes. His helmet seemed to pulsate, blinking on as he passed beneath a streetlamp, then off as he moved back into darkness. He crossed my field of vision then disappeared slowly into the night, a firefly signaling his passage. On. Off. On. Off.
I thought about what she’d said, wondering if I was to blame. Had I set her fears in motion by talking about my own, or had she actually encountered a psychopath? Was she amplifying a set of harmless coincidences, or was she truly in jeopardy? Should I let things ride for a while? Should I do something? Was this a police matter? I was running through my old, practiced loop.
We sat for some time, listening to the sounds of the park and smelling the soft summer night, each of us drifting alone in separate reflections. The quiet interlude had a calming effect. Eventually Gabby shook her head, dropped the briefcase to her lap, and leaned back in the seat. Though her features were obscured, the change in her was visible. When she spoke, her voice was stronger, less shaky.
“I know I’m overreacting. He’s just some harmless weirdo who wants to rattle my cage. And I’m playing into his game. I’m letting this fuckhead grab my mind and shake me.”
“Don’t you run across a lot of ‘weirdos,’ as you call him?”
“Yeah. Most of my informants aren’t exactly the Brooks Brothers crowd.” She gave a short, mirthless laugh.
“What makes you think this guy may be different?
She thought about it, worrying a thumbnail with her teeth.
“Ah, it’s hard to put into words. There’s just a—a line that divides the crackpots from the real predators. It’s hard to define, but ya know when it’s been crossed. Maybe it’s an instinct I’ve picked up down there. In the business, if a woman feels threatened by someone, she won’t go with him. Each one has her own little triggering devices, but they all draw that line on something. Could be eyes, could be some odd request. Hélène won’t go with anyone who wears cowboy boots.”
She took another time-out to debate with herself.
“I think I just got carried away by all the talk about serial killers and sexual devos.”
More introspection. I tried to steal a look at my watch.
“All this guy is trying to do is shock me.”
Another pause. She was talking herself down.
“What an asshole.”
Or up. Her voice was growing angrier by the minute.
“Goddammit, Tempe, I’m not going to let this turd get his rocks off sniveling trash and showing me his sick pictures. I’m going to tell him to blow it out his ass.”
She turned and put her hand on mine.
“I’m so sorry I dragged you down here tonight. I am such a jerk! Will ya forgive me?”
I stared mutely at her. Again, her emotional U-turn had taken me by surprise. How could she be terrified, analytical, angry, then apologetic all within the space of thirty minutes? I was too tired, and it was too late at night to sort it out.
“Gabby, it’s late. Let’s talk about this tomorrow. Of course I’m not mad. I’m just glad you’re all right. I meant it about staying at my place. You’re always welcome.”
She leaned over and hugged me. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I’ll call ya. I promise.”
I watched her climb the stairs, her skirt floating like mist around her. In an instant she disappeared through the purple doorway, leaving the space between us empty and undisturbed. I sat alone, surrounded by the dark and the faint scent of sandalwood. Though nothing stirred, a momentary chill gripped my heart. Like a shadow, it flickered and was gone.
All the way home my mind was at warp speed. Was Gabby constructing another melodrama? Was she genuinely in danger? Were there things she wasn’t telling me? Could this man be truly dangerous? Was