lonely and she got horny, and whatever there was to say about Trotter, one thing she was sure of was that he couldn’t be placed in one of the three categories.
He kept her guessing; he drove her crazy. She wanted nothing to do with him. But she also started taking the pill again. She stayed angry with him for a week, but when he said he wanted her to come to his apartment to talk, she had gone willingly.
They’d talked. He liked her brother, in spite of his naive politics. He liked Hannah Stein.
Regina had said she liked her, too, Jimmy needed someone like her.
Trotter hadn’t asked her what she needed, he just gave it to her. He took her in his arms and kissed her gently, then hard. Regina seemed to remember that hers had been the first tongue to cross the frontier. Then she was in the bedroom, naked against him, coming, more than once, almost before she knew what was happening.
A thought—something about loving this man—flashed across her disarranged mind just before sanity set in, and she realized this man was some kind of undercover agent. Deception was his livelihood, his way of life. Convincing a woman he wanted her, and “proving” it, were probably all part of a day’s work. She wondered how she could have been stupid enough to hide that from herself all this time. She stared at the circle of light on the ceiling and wished she were dead.
“I’m leaving now,” she said, and started to get up.
One strong hand on her shoulder forced her back to the mattress. “Not yet,” Trotter said. Regina felt a small tickle of fear.
It must have shown on her face, because Trotter said, “Don’t be afraid. You can go in ten seconds. You can go now.” He let go of her shoulder. “I’ll drive you home, if you trust me. Just answer my question or tell me positively you won’t.”
She looked at his eyes, close to hers because of his myopia. They were eyes that had seen too much and had given up everything but hope.
No actor could put that much in his eyes, no matter how practiced at deception. Could he?
“If I trust you,” she whispered. Part of her brain called the rest fool; if she didn’t get up, dress, walk out the door, and call this whole business off this second, she’d have only herself to blame for anything that happened after.
“Don’t hurt me, Allan,” she said. This time, it was a plea, and she didn’t care.
“I won’t,” he told her. “I wouldn’t.” His hands were gentle.
There was a noise on the stairs. Trotter froze. Regina felt the tension in him and froze, too.
“What’s the matter?” she whispered.
“There shouldn’t be anyone out there. There’s only this apartment over the garage, and the people I rent from are away for a couple of days.”
Regina watched, fascinated, as Trotter went into action. He was out of bed and into his pants in seconds. There had been no sound; he hadn’t even made the bedsprings creak or the change in his pockets jingle. He went silently to the door, listened at the crack as he eased off the lock and the chain bolt, then threw the door open and plunged into the stairway. She heard his voice yell, “Call the police!” then the slamming of the outside door.
Call the police and tell them what? Regina would have to look at whatever it was in the hall, and quickly, but she was naked and didn’t want to be. As she stood up, she pulled the bedspread free and wrapped it around herself. Shaking under the rough cotton, she went to look at the stairs.
Someone was lying there, faceup, head down. It was the body of a woman, but the face was no longer a woman’s face. The color was wrong, and the expression on it could not be described as human.
Regina recognized it, anyway. Hannah Stein. My God, Hannah Stein.
Regina found herself sheltering a sudden hope that the figure on the stairs might be alive, a hope that had been let in by her love for her brother. She picked her way down the stairs to see if she could help.
Hannah Stein couldn’t
He kept her guessing; he drove her crazy. She wanted nothing to do with him. But she also started taking the pill again. She stayed angry with him for a week, but when he said he wanted her to come to his apartment to talk, she had gone willingly.
They’d talked. He liked her brother, in spite of his naive politics. He liked Hannah Stein.
Regina had said she liked her, too, Jimmy needed someone like her.
Trotter hadn’t asked her what she needed, he just gave it to her. He took her in his arms and kissed her gently, then hard. Regina seemed to remember that hers had been the first tongue to cross the frontier. Then she was in the bedroom, naked against him, coming, more than once, almost before she knew what was happening.
A thought—something about loving this man—flashed across her disarranged mind just before sanity set in, and she realized this man was some kind of undercover agent. Deception was his livelihood, his way of life. Convincing a woman he wanted her, and “proving” it, were probably all part of a day’s work. She wondered how she could have been stupid enough to hide that from herself all this time. She stared at the circle of light on the ceiling and wished she were dead.
“I’m leaving now,” she said, and started to get up.
One strong hand on her shoulder forced her back to the mattress. “Not yet,” Trotter said. Regina felt a small tickle of fear.
It must have shown on her face, because Trotter said, “Don’t be afraid. You can go in ten seconds. You can go now.” He let go of her shoulder. “I’ll drive you home, if you trust me. Just answer my question or tell me positively you won’t.”
She looked at his eyes, close to hers because of his myopia. They were eyes that had seen too much and had given up everything but hope.
No actor could put that much in his eyes, no matter how practiced at deception. Could he?
“If I trust you,” she whispered. Part of her brain called the rest fool; if she didn’t get up, dress, walk out the door, and call this whole business off this second, she’d have only herself to blame for anything that happened after.
“Don’t hurt me, Allan,” she said. This time, it was a plea, and she didn’t care.
“I won’t,” he told her. “I wouldn’t.” His hands were gentle.
There was a noise on the stairs. Trotter froze. Regina felt the tension in him and froze, too.
“What’s the matter?” she whispered.
“There shouldn’t be anyone out there. There’s only this apartment over the garage, and the people I rent from are away for a couple of days.”
Regina watched, fascinated, as Trotter went into action. He was out of bed and into his pants in seconds. There had been no sound; he hadn’t even made the bedsprings creak or the change in his pockets jingle. He went silently to the door, listened at the crack as he eased off the lock and the chain bolt, then threw the door open and plunged into the stairway. She heard his voice yell, “Call the police!” then the slamming of the outside door.
Call the police and tell them what? Regina would have to look at whatever it was in the hall, and quickly, but she was naked and didn’t want to be. As she stood up, she pulled the bedspread free and wrapped it around herself. Shaking under the rough cotton, she went to look at the stairs.
Someone was lying there, faceup, head down. It was the body of a woman, but the face was no longer a woman’s face. The color was wrong, and the expression on it could not be described as human.
Regina recognized it, anyway. Hannah Stein. My God, Hannah Stein.
Regina found herself sheltering a sudden hope that the figure on the stairs might be alive, a hope that had been let in by her love for her brother. She picked her way down the stairs to see if she could help.
Hannah Stein couldn’t
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