at First Sight (2008) by Cannell Stephen

Author:Cannell, Stephen [Stephen, Cannell,]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-01-05T05:41:19.265000+00:00

Chapter 19

IN EARLY OCTOBER, PAIGE GOT BACK TO THE PORTRAIT of Chandler. She was working with more emotional distance now. She found solace in trying to capture the strong, flat planes of his face. She finally liked the way it was turning out.

Given the circumstances, she was surviving pretty well. She had lost five pounds, along with her appetite, and was beginning to look gaunt, so she had been working half-heartedly at putting the weight back on.

In the afternoons, when it was cooler, she ran down by the river. She found herself stretching the distances out, keeping her pace brisk and taking pleasure in the fact that as her endurance grew, she didn't tire. The daily run and the dojo workouts exhausted her and she slept soundly, descending into a muscle-tired REM, where the painful dreams of Chandler didn't follow.

But the rage always lay just below the surface. She had a stress fracture in her left wrist from blocking her karate instructor's side kick, known as a yoko-geri. She also had one on her right forearm from a missed tettsui-uke, a bottom fist-block. Her sensei had wanted her to take a month off and let them heal, but she'd ignored the advice and stayed in class; both injuries got worse until finally an orthopedist ordered her to give it up for six months. So she concentrated on her running and pushed her distance up to ten miles a day.

Bob Butler still phoned her each Wednesday to set a visit. He would bring her up to date over coffee or Cokes, but his attitude was starting to suggest failure.

"I'm beginning to think maybe I ain't gonna get this guy after all," Bob sadly admitted one afternoon. "Just finished goin' back again, recheckin' everything, recontacting rental car companies, asking them to check fender damage again.

"Same answer: no blue Tauruses with busted fenders at none a them big car agencies, so that means most likely, it ain't a rental. Now I'm checkin' paint stores and tire stores in the Tri-State Area."

They were sitting on a wrought-iron bench near the aqueduct, watching two tugs work a huge oil tanker as it slid up the river. One was in front, the other trailing, each nosing the tanker occasionally, then running along beside it bumping and herding the mammoth ship like busy sheepdogs.

"Tire stores?" She was puzzled.

"Well, it's a long shot, but if he's smart, this perp could know we can do a pretty good job at matching treads we recover off'a bodies, or from tracks on the pavement. If our driver knew that, maybe the perp coulda went and changed tires."

"Isn't that going to make him harder to catch?" she asked.

"Maybe could be yes, maybe could be no." He then turned and looked directly at her, finding her gaze with friendly gray eyes. "Here's what I'm hopin'. If this doer changed the tires, that means he talked to somebody, and maybe that somebody will remember. Since the perp just ran Chandler down, could be that he or she was real stressed, acting strange.

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