Rapture

And why worry? Now that he had made the first move, he was sure the rest would fall in place. It required a little careful thought, that was all. Plan it, make it nice, smooth, relaxed. Something that would become a fine memory for all of them.

Lighting a cigarette and opening another beer, he began to piece it all together. It was a special project, but nothing he couldn't handle. Jeff was good at special projects.

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CHAPTER SIX

Foxrock wasn't much more than a village, off route 7 north of Danbury. Jeff got there just before eight o'clock the next morning. It was a rural community, and the houses were widely scattered along country roads rather than closely packed on neat residential streets. It took him nearly another half hour of driving around before he found Indian Hill Road.

When he spotted the Corcoran mailbox, he took care not to slow down, and glanced only briefly at the house. As soon as it was convenient, he turned the car around and drove back. The second time he passed the house he noted the two cars in the driveway, one a blue compact, the other a deep-red or maroon wagon. The usual suburban scene.

Back at the T -junction, he turned left, away from the center of Foxrock and stopped just before the first bend in the road, about a hundred yards along, where he pulled onto a grassy verge. He turned the car off, adjusted the rear-view mirror, and propped a road map conspicuously on the steering wheel. Next, he took the lid off a cup of coffee he'd picked up at a fast-food place on the way. Still hot. He waited.

The wagon appeared fifteen minutes later and turned in the other direction. Two people in it. Precisely what Jeff had expected. Sean and Bonnie going to school. Hadn't Mrs. Brewer said Sean was a teacher?

Now, Georgianne. He had no intention of barging in on her this early in the morning, having visions of her in some drab housecoat, her hair mussed, surrounded by breakfast dishes. It wouldn't be fair to either of them. She needed time, and he was prepared to wait.

So he was startled when he saw the blue compact stop at the junction only a few minutes later. It headed toward town. Pushing the map aside, he started the car, anh turned it sharply around. He put his sunglasses on and hung back as far as he could; all he wanted was to keep her in sight. No passengersit looked good. The thought came to him that there might well be more than one blue compact on Indian Hill Road, but when he had to come up close behind her at the red light in the center of Foxrock, he was sure it really was Georgianne. The blond hair ... He cupped his hands in front of his face, lighting a cigarette with difficulty. He was trembling.

He followed her all the way into Danbury, where she left her car in a municipal lot. Jeff parked there as well, though some distance away. Then he trailed her for two short blocks. She went into a place called the Reinecke Fitness Center. Jeff continued walking slowly along the other side of the street, trying to figure out what to do. If Georgianne was a customer, she would most likely be out in an hour or ninety minutes. But if she worked there, she might not reappear until lunchtime, or even the end of the afternoon.

He bought a newspaper, found a convenient diner, and sat at the counter, by the front, where he could keep an eye on the entrance to the Fitness Center. He ordered coffee, orange juice, and a Danish. Later he had to ask for another coffee, but he hardly ever looked at the newspaper.

What was she wearing? He had been trying to remember, but he didn't have a clear picture in his mind yet. He had been so concerned about keeping her in sight without getting too close that he hadn't been able to focus on details. A light summer skirt and blouse, appropriate for the May heat wave? It was maddening. For twenty years, whenever Jeff had thought of Georgianne, she had always come to mind in sharp, vivid images, so real he would sometimes think he could actually speak to her or touch her. But now, when he had finally seen her in the flesh, she was so elusive he didn't even know what she was wearing.

Eventually he cgµldn't sit still any longer. He had to do something, move. So he walked back to the parking lot, got in his car, turned to the sports pages, and tried to concentrate on an article about the Lakers.

A little after eleven, he looked up and saw Georgianne at her car. She tossed something-a gym bag?--onto the front seat and locked the vehicle again. He was out and following her as she walked away in the opposite direction from the Fitness Center. She went into an art-supply shop.

This is it, he told himself as he gazed absently at another store's window display. Putting his sunglasses in his jacket pocket he patted his hair. He was ready now to talk to her, and he was so excited his whole body felt charged. And yet he was very calm. After all the uncertainty, he knew he was not making a mistake.