The Woman Read Online Free Page B

soon contact her with a rational explanation.
    At one-thirty Linda paid the bill and left without having seen or heard from Cynthia. She walked her normal route home through the sweet smells from the donut shop. When she neared the alley into which she had been dragged, the alley in which the two dead bodies had been found, she stepped out into the street giving the mouth of the alley a wide berth. She also went cold remembering the squatty man’s hard touch on her breast. She still had no idea why she had been attacked. She had assumed a rape at the time, but that seemed likely only due to the absence of any other plausible reason. Now she knew there had to be another reason, she just had no idea what it could be.

Chapter 4
    Linda went out to sit on the deck of her condo, hoping to calm herself by watching the ocean.
    Sea Crest had always provided Linda a safe place to watch sunrises and sunsets, and read novels next to the fireplace or on her patio overlooking the Pacific. She had exiled herself to Sea Crest following the death of her marriage. In part, she had selected Sea Crest because when she first visited, the town projected the feel of a Thomas Kinkade painting, a slice of Americana she believed existed only in the hearts of romantics. But here she had felt it, and here she had moved. In the beginning she had called the move a peaceful getaway, a place to calm herself and reset her ambitions. But with time came honesty. She had selected Sea Crest as a hideaway, not a getaway. Last week had completed seven years and still she remained, in hiding. That was the truth, in hiding.
    The only times she left Sea Crest were the nights she dressed the way she had once dressed regularly. On those nights, her celibacy growing intolerable, she went bar-hopping in one or another of the not-too-distant cities. She avoided the dives populated by lost souls, choosing instead the upscale watering holes frequented by the successful men of commerce and finance. These one-night stands usually occurred near the end of each month, perhaps the result of the fecundity of her id. These forays were daring, yet safe, both for the same reasons. She did not know the men. She did not use her real name. She never agreed to see any of these men a second time. These couplings were not in search of a relationship, only in search of a servicing. That said it crudely, but, when talking to oneself, plain talk was just fine.
    Her life had become much less than she had once wanted, once hoped, but she desperately clung to the belief that marooning herself in Sea Crest would be enough. More recently, with the help of Dr. Shaw, she had begun to acknowledge a few truths. Avoiding all chances for a new loving relationship could protect her from the agony of being hurt, but such a choice also assured the lingering anguish of loneliness. Only through finding a successful lifelong relationship could enduring sadness be avoided. Still, Dr. Shaw had, at least tacitly, admitted the odds of finding such a relationship were not all that good in today’s world.
    While she had been on the deck the hummingbird returned, a distant friend, comfortable, yet suspicious. She had hung a feeder filled with red sugar water to which the bird seemed a constant visitor. She doubted any hummingbird had a weight problem given their highly aerobic pace. A sudden dart, the envy of any helicopter made, took the hummer away as suddenly as it had appeared. She wished she could as abruptly stop wondering about Cynthia, her only real friend, and the stranger who had, to say the least, acted curiously while passing SMITH & CO.
    The man remained clear in her mind. He stood about six feet, and had medium brown hair with a slight natural frosting just above his ears. Actually, he might have had more gray, even been bald. She hadn’t been able to tell because of his cap. She estimated his age to be mid forties. He strode gracefully, but without gentleness, confidently, without swagger or