Outwitting Trolls Read Online Free Page B

say. It doesn’t mean anything. But then he sent a Christmas card, and on it he mentioned that he’d be coming up here for a conference in April and maybe we could get together. It made me curious. So I sent him a note saying sure, it would be nice to see him again. Then one evening he called me on the phone, and we talked for a long time, and it was as if we’d never split up. It was easy to talk to him. He called me again a week or so later, and it got to be that we talked on the phone two or three times a week, and pretty soon it began to feel, um, intimate. You know? I mean, here’s this man I had children with, who I worked beside, who I shared a bathroom with, who I slept with for all those years. All the things that we had going for us, they were still there. I don’t think they ever really went away. They were just, um, dormant, and talking with Ken reawakened all those things. The good memories. Why I once loved him. It was like a courtship, all those phone calls. It was kind of…it was sexy.” She lookedat me. Her eyes were brimming. She swiped her wrist across them. “I came here tonight to make love with my ex-husband in his hotel room. I felt like a teenager. I was very excited. I think he was, too.” She stopped and stared. “What are you thinking?”
    I shrugged. “Nothing.”
    â€œYou believe me, don’t you?”
    â€œSure,” I said.
    â€œYou and Gloria,” she said. “After you got divorced, did you ever…?”
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œSo should I tell the police what I just told you?”
    I nodded. “You should tell them the truth. You’ll have to explain why you came here tonight.”
    She hugged herself. “It’s sort of embarrassing.”
    â€œEmbarrassment is the least of our worries.”
    She nodded.
    â€œWhoever did this,” I said, “Ken must have let him into his room. Him or her.”
    â€œA woman, you think?”
    I shrugged. “Maybe.”
    â€œMaybe that’s what it was,” Sharon said. “Maybe that’s who did this. Some woman. I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t want to delude myself. I guess I didn’t really know Ken. People change a lot in ten years, regardless of what they might say on the telephone.”
    â€œWe all do,” I said.
    We stood there awkwardly, leaning our backs against the wall, waiting for the police. After a few minutes, Sharon said, “It just occurred to me. You haven’t asked me if I did it.”
    â€œDid what?”
    â€œKilled Ken.”
    â€œYou’re right,” I said. “I haven’t asked.”
    She looked at me, then nodded. “Oh.” She hesitated. “Well, I didn’t, you know.”
    I smiled. “Good.”
    A minute or two later, as we stood there waiting for the authorities to arrive, a man turned the corner and started down the corridor. He was wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood over his head, so I couldn’t really see his face, but I had the impression that he was white and young—late teens, early twenties. He struck me as out of place in this fancy hotel.
    He took a few steps toward Sharon and me, and then he stopped. He hesitated for a moment, and I thought he was going to speak, but then he turned and began to run in the other direction.
    â€œHey!” I yelled at him. “Hey! Wait!”
    He darted back down the corridor and disappeared around the corner.
    I ran after him. When I turned the corner, I had the choice of an elevator, the stairwell, or a left or right onto another corridor.
    I looked both ways down the corridor and saw nobody.
    The numbers over the two elevators showed that one was descending from the seventh floor and one was stopped at the lobby.
    When I opened the door to the stairwell, I heard the metallic echo of footsteps below me. The kid in the hoodie, I assumed, running down the stairs.
    Already I was panting