Carnage: Short Story Read Free Page B

Intimate details.
    “I’ll talk to your husband,” he said. “He’ll understand.”
    She gave him a long and appraising look. “You know I’m not married.”
    No dummy, Pat.
    “Yep. I’ve been watching you. And I don’t see a ring.”
    “I think I recall you from Facebook.”
    “ That’s why you look familiar!” He looked ashamed. “Tell you the truth, I don’t know much about you.”
    “What if I did have a husband?”
    He shrugged. “I would never poach.”
    Her gaze held him for a few seconds. “You mean that, don’t you?”
    “Of course I do.”
    “A man with scruples.”
    He grinned. “More like one who doesn’t want to get shot.”
    She was still weighing her options, contemplating what might be a fateful first step.
    “We’ll skip the phone,” she said, laying the conch phone she was holding back where it had sat on display. She smiled. “I’ll take the lunch.”
    They left the souvenir shop and set off down the beach toward a restaurant called Knobby’s that had outside dining. As they walked, her sandals flung rooster tails of sand.
    “I’m Corey Sanders,” he said, as if taking a cue.
    “Your Web name?”
    He laughed. “Real name.” In a way.
    “Patricia Angelina,” she said.
    “Beautiful name. Like poetry.”
    “Just plain Pat.”
    “Just plain beautiful. You know what else I like about you?”
    “Couldn’t guess,” she said, tossing her hair and grinning. Her teeth were perfect and gleamed unnaturally, as if she’d recently treated them with whitener.
    “You’re not the sort woman who demands that she pay for lunch.”
    She threw her head back and laughed from deep in her throat. “Women like that,” she said, “they always expect something in return.”
    “Sometimes,” the killer said, “they get it.”

6
    The motel room’s sheer curtains waltzed gracefully with the night sea breeze. It wasn’t completely dark outside, but the sun had been down long enough that the horizon was black against a darkening sky.
    Corey, he’d said his name was. But it always took him a few seconds to react to it. Pat doubted now that it was his real name.
    And she wasn’t really sure she’d met him on Facebook. It might have been Twitter. Or maybe one of the other social or business sites online. However they’d first made contact, he must have hacked into her computer and found out loads of information about her, because when they’d met, it seemed that within minutes they were old friends. Or at least acquaintances.
    It didn’t bother her much, his romping around the contents of her hard drive. Most guys could do that now, and Pat had been guilty of it a few times herself. She didn’t have anything to hide. At least not anything she had put online, so what was the difference? It was all part of the hooking-up game, and at least it was a part you could manage.
    Pat knew it was supposed to be dangerous, meeting real people from the virtual world, but this seemed different. And certainly not dangerous. Corey seemed to be one of the kindest, gentlest men she’d met on- or offline. His smile was brightened with a touch of eagerness, almost as if he were a puppy (or a dolphin) badly in need of affection.
    They’d had a few drinks at a beachside bar. A few more. Then he’d suggested watching the sunset and going to dinner at the Sea Sail restaurant. It was an upper-class restaurant, which meant Pat would have to change from her beach robe and floppies. He’d waited for her to suggest that they drop by her motel so she could get into something suitable. It was only right down the beach, near where the tall masts of some sailboats bobbed.
    She hadn’t found it suspicious that he was already in dress slacks and an unstructured sport coat, leather deck shoes. No tie. But who wore a tie in Nickleton? And he was carrying a large beach bag, as if he could change into swimming trunks in no time and fling himself into the surf. She could imagine him running loosely and gracefully