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〃So have I。 But I feel better now that you know。〃
〃Why didn't you tell me sooner？〃
〃I hoped it would go away。 I hoped Tarrance would leave me alone and find someone else to torment。 But he's here to stay。 That's why Rick Acklin was transferred to Memphis。 To work on me。 I have been selected by the FBI for a mission I know nothing about。〃
〃I feel weak。〃
〃We have to be careful； Abby。 We must continue to live as if we suspect nothing。〃
〃I don't believe this。 I'm sitting here listening to you； but I don't believe what you're telling me。 This is not real； Mitch。 You expect me to live in a house that's wired and the phones are tapped and someone； somewhere is listening to everything we say。〃
〃Do you have a better idea？〃
〃Yeah。 Let's hire this Lomax guy to inspect our house。〃
〃I've thought of that。 But what if he finds something？ Think about it。 What if we know for sure that the house is wired？ What then？ What if he breaks a device that's been planted？ They； whoever in hell they are； will know that we know。 It's too dangerous； for now anyway。 Maybe later。〃
〃This is crazy； Mitch。 I guess we're supposed to run out in the backyard to have a conversation。〃
〃Of course not。 We could use the front yard。〃
〃At this moment； I don't appreciate your sense of humor。〃
〃Sorry。 Look； Abby； let's be normal and patient for a while。 Tarrance has convinced me he's serious and he's not going to forget about me。 I can't stop him。 He finds me； remember。 I think they follow me and wait in ambush。 For the time being； it's important that we carry on as usual。〃
〃Usual？ e to think of it； there's not much conversation around our house these days。 I sort of feel sorry for them if they're waiting to hear meaningful dialogue。 I talk to Hearsay a lot。〃
17
THE snow cleared long before Christmas； leaving the ground wet and making way for the traditional Southern holiday weather of gray skies and cold rain。 Memphis had seen two white Christmases in the past ninety years； and the experts predicted no more in the century。
There was snow in Kentucky； but the roads were clear。 Abby called her parents early Christmas morning after she packed。 She was ing； she said； but she would be alone。 They were disappointed； they said； and suggested that perhaps she should stay if it was causing trouble。 She insisted。 It was a ten…hour drive。 Traffic would be light； and she would be there by dark。
Mitch said very little。 He spread the morning paper on the floor next to the tree and pretended to concentrate as she loaded her car。 The dog hid nearby under a chair； as if waiting for an explosion。 Their gifts had been opened and arranged neatly on the couch。 Clothes and perfume and albums； and for her； a full…length fox coat。 For the first time in the young marriage； there was money to spend at Christmas。
She draped the coat over her arm and walked to the paper。 〃I'm leaving now；〃 she said softly； but firmly。
He stood slowly and looked at her。
〃I wish you would e with me；〃 she said。
〃Maybe next year。〃 It was a lie； and they knew it。 But it sounded good。 It was promising。
〃Please be careful。〃
〃Take care of my dog。〃
〃We'll be fine。〃
He took her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek。 He looked at her and smiled。 She was beautiful； much more so than when they married。 At twenty…four； she looked her age； but the years were being very generous。
They walked to the carport； and he helped her into the car。 They kissed again； and she backed down the driveway。
Merry Christmas； he said to himself。 Merry Christmas； he said to the dog。
After an hour of watching the walls； he threw two changes of clothes in the BMW； placed Hearsay in the front seat and left town。 He drove south on Interstate 55； out of Memphis； into Mississippi。 The road was deserted； but he kept an eye on the rearview mirror。 The dog whimpered precisely every sixty minutes； and Mitch would stop on the shoulder…if possible； just over a hill。 He would find a cluster of trees where he could hide and watch the traffic while Hearsay did his business。 He noticed nothing。 After five stops； he was sure he was not being followed。 They evidently took off Christmas Day。
In six hours he was in Mobile； and two hours later he crossed the bay at Pensacola and headed for the Emerald Coast of Florida。 Highway 98 ran through the coastal towns of Navarre； Fort Walton Beach； Destin and Sandestin。 It encountered clusters of condominiums and motels； miles of shopping centers； then strings of run…down amusement parks and low rent T…shirt shops； most of which had been locked and neglected since Labor Day。 Then it went for miles with no congestion； no sprawl； just an awesome view of the snowy…white beaches and brilliant emerald waters of the Gulf。 East of Sandestin； the highway narrowed and left the coast； and for an hour he drove alone on the two…lane with nothing to look at but the woods and an occasional self…serve gas station or quick…shop convenience store。
At dusk； he passed a high rise； and a sign said Panama City Beach was eight miles ahead。 The highway found the coast again at a point where it forked and offered a choice between the bypass to the north and the scenic route straight ahead on what was called the Miracle Strip。 He chose the scenic route next to the beach…the strip that ran for fifteen miles by the water and was lined on both sides with condos； cheap motels； trailer parks； vacation cottages； fast…food joints and T…shirt shops。 This was Panama City Beach。
Most of the ten zillion condos were empty； but there were a few cars parked about and he assumed that some families vacationed on the beach for Christmas。 A hot…weather Christmas。 At least they're together； he said to himself。 The dog barked； and they stopped by a pier where men from Pennsylvania and Ohio and Canada fished and watched the dark waters。
They cruised the Miracle Strip by themselves。 Hearsay stood on the door and took in the sights； barking at the occasional flashing neon of a cinder…block motel advertising its openness and cheap rates。 Christmas on the Miracle Strip closed everything but a handful of diehard coffee shops and motels。
He stopped for gas at an all…night Texaco with a clerk who seemed unmonly friendly。
〃San Luis Street？〃 Mitch asked。
〃Yes； yes；〃 the clerk said with an accent and pointed to the west。 〃Second traffic light to the right。 First left。 That's San Luis。〃
The neighborhood was a disorganized suburb of antique mobile homes。 Mobile； yes； but it was apparent they had not moved in decades。 The trailers were packed tightly together like rows of dominoes。 The short； narrow driveways seemed inches apart and were filled with old pickups and rusted lawn furniture。 The streets were crowded with parked cars； junk cars； abandoned cars。 Motorcycles and bicycles leaned on the trailer hitches and lawn…mower handles protruded from beneath each home。 A sign called the place a retirement village…〃San Pedro Estates…A Half Mile from the Emerald Coast。〃 It was more like a slum on wheels； or a project with a trailer hitch。
He found San Luis Street and suddenly felt nervous。 It was winding and