The Crimes of Jordan Wise Read Free

faraway places seemed too expensive and too far away. The only vacation I took outside California was six days on Maui. It wasn't what I'd expected and I had a lousy time.
     
    This Life I was leading, by conservative standards, was exemplary. By other standards it was pedestrian, dull, empty. I broke no laws of any consequence, I paid my bills and taxes on time, I was a model citizen by every measure. The only difference between me and millions of other model citizens was that I had never been married and I lived alone, not so much by choice as because I'd never met anyone I cared to share my life with. That, and inertia.
     
    Not that I led a monkish existence. There were women before Annalise, a few casual relationships. Some women seem to like quiet men of average height, average weight, average looks; men who wear glasses that give them a studious appearance. We come across as nonthreatening, I suppose. Blue eyes had something to do with it, too. My best feature, Annalise said, and she wasn't the first. Now and then one of the women would consent to go to bed with me, and this happened often enough to satisfy my normal carnal instincts if not theirs. I considered my instincts normal at the time, anyway, but I see myself now a lot more clearly than I did then.
     
    None of the affairs lasted beyond a month, and I suspect one of the reasons is that I wasn't much of a lover. I'd never felt completely comfortable with my sexuality, had a fairly low sex drive as a result. I didn't get laid for the first time until I was nineteen, and it wasn't much of a confidence builder. I don't remember the girl's name or what she looked like. All I remember is her saying, "Not so fast, not so fast," and "Oh God, couldn't you wait," and thinking there must be something wrong with me because I wasn't able to do it right.
     
    But for all of that, I was ripe for someone like Annalise. Not just someone to fall in love with, to fill the void in my life. A kindred spirit, a kind of female alter ego, even though I didn't realize it until months afterward. Alone I was nothing, would always have been nothing. With Annalise, because of Annalise, I was capable of anything, any possibility.
     
    I met her at a wedding reception in Sausalito at the beginning of June. The groom was a young guy named Jim Sanderson who also worked for Amthor Associates, in the research and development division. I knew him casually—we'd had lunch together a few times, more by accident than design—so I was surprised when he included me among the dozen or so coworkers he invited to the reception. When the day came, I almost didn't go. I'd never felt comfortable in large crowds, among strangers; never been much good at small talk. At any sort of social gathering I tended to hide in corners or to wander around aimlessly, avoiding contact as much as possible. Sanderson and his bride both had large families and a broad circle of friends and acquaintances, very few of whom I knew.
     
    But the day turned out bright and clear, balmy, and I didn't feel like holing up in the apartment and I didn't want to hurt Sanderson's feelings by not showing up—not that he'd have noticed. So I went. The reception was held at the Alta Mira Hotel, on the hill overlooking the waterfront and the bay. Tables groaning with food, an open bar, waiters circulating with glasses of champagne, a five-piece orchestra. The swarm of guests was as thick as bees in a hive, setting up the same kind of constant, pulsing buzz.
     
    I located Sanderson and his bride and congratulated them. Then I filled a plate and snagged a glass of champagne and tried to find a corner to hide in. There wasn't any inside, so I wandered out to the far end of the terrace. I'd finished the food and champagne and was looking out over the harbor, about ready to make my escape, when a voice behind me said, "You look a little lost, standing there." I turned, and there she was.
     
    The effect she had on me was cumulative, not