Chapter 1

April 2007

The woman in front had her passport stamped and the immigration officer waved her through. Chris stepped forward, presented his passport, and tried his best to look like his five-year-old photo, which was difficult, given he’d shaved off the beard three years ago.

The immigration officer looked at the passport, then at Chris, then back at the passport. He grunted. “Purpose of visit?”

“I’m here to see a friend in need.”

“In need of what, exactly?” The officer sounded suspicious.

“A hug.”

The officer grunted again. Chris sighed. Had relations between Britain and the US really gotten this bad? He knew that security had been stepped up after the recent terror threats, but this was ridiculous.

Do I look like a terrorist? Chris thought. What is it with these people? Give them a little bit of power and it goes straight to their heads.

There were more inane questions before the officer stamped the passport and waved Chris through.

Excellent. All I need to do now is get to River’s Crossing and find Beth.

He rented a car and then fought his way from JFK Airport to the north of Long Island, where he could get a bridge to the mainland. He had to switch freeways twice, and the signage was so poor he almost missed the exit both times.

On top of that, he was driving on the wrong side of the road. He’d driven in continental Europe before and so had some experience of driving on the right, but this felt different somehow.

It was scarier.

Driving an automatic car didn’t help—he’d always driven a manual back home and he didn’t feel completely in control without being able to change gear.

He eventually made it to the East River and the most spectacular skyline he’d ever seen greeted him. He only wished he’d had a chance to take it in and appreciate it—but he was too busy concentrating on the road.

He was beginning to think this trip wasn’t such a clever idea. Overzealous passport controllers, a freeway maze with no signs, and a spectacular skyline. That was his introduction to the United States.

But after an hour and a half on the interstate, River’s Crossing—and Beth—beckoned.

Perhaps the trip would be worth it after all.

River’s Crossing—a rural Connecticut town with a population of fifteen thousand. A town that most people in Britain had never heard of. Chris certainly hadn’t heard of it before he met Beth. Hell, most Americans had probably never heard of it either until it hit the headlines two weeks ago.

Chris couldn’t believe it was a real place. Or that he’d made it there in one piece. Now all he had to do was find Beth. How hard could that be?

He pulled off the freeway, drove through the commercial and industrial developments, and into what Beth always called The Old Town. He parked in front of the courthouse in the town square. It was Sunday. The courthouse and most of the shops were closed. The only place open was a bar called Molly’s. He went in and sat on a stool at the bar.

“What can I get you, pal?” the barman asked. His dark hair was slicked back, and he wore a tight, white T-shirt with the bar’s logo on the right breast.

“Could I have a Budweiser, please?”

“Two fifty,” said the barman. He sounded as if he belonged in a trashy American sitcom.

Chris fished out his battered wallet and handed over one of the five-dollar bills he’d purchased from the Bureau de change at Heathrow before he caught his flight.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” the barman said as he handed Chris his change. “You new in town?”

“I’m on holiday—erm, I mean, vacation.”

“Okay. You’re a Brit, right? I can tell from your accent.” Chris nodded. “Well, you guys backed us up over that mess with Saddam, so you’re all right in my book. What brings you to River’s Crossing?”

“I thought I’d see a bit of the real America.” Chris decided it wasn’t the time to start asking about Beth. He was desperate to see her, but he was also aware that it would look strange if a foreigner started asking where someone lived.

“Yeah, I heard that about you guys. You like to do things your own way, right? That’s cool. Me? Give me a trip to Florida any day of the week.” He laughed. “Well, you’ve certainly come to the right town if you wanna see what the real United States is all about. We’re ‘bout as typical as you can get.”

“Great. Look, this is probably a silly question but, do you know anywhere I could stay? I didn’t really plan this trip in advance. It was a spur of the moment thing.”

“Sure. There’s a Holiday Inn and bunch of other motels out by the interstate. Part of the River’s Crossing Mall development.”

“I was thinking of something a little more luxurious. I’m on holiday—I mean, vacation, after all.”

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, you’ll want River’s Crossing Inn. Cross the square from here. It’s pricey mind.”

“Price isn’t an issue.”

“Well, when you go over to check-in, be sure to tell ‘em that Mitch from Molly’s sent you. They may even give you a discount.”

“Thanks, Mitch.”

“Hey, we don’t get many foreign visitors. Hell, we don’t get many visitors at all. Well, not until recently, anyways. So, we need to look after the ones we do get. You might tell your friends about us when you get home.”

“Yeah, I might just do that.”

Chris finished his beer then bid Mitch farewell and went to find the hotel.

Molly’s was on the eastern side of the town square. The courthouse dominated the northern side. To the south, east, and west were old, three-story buildings which had most likely been residences of the town’s great and good in times gone by but had all long since been converted into shops, restaurants, and offices. A road ran around the edge of the square. In the centre, surrounded by a white picket fence, lay a well-kept garden. Chris cut through it and made a mental note to have a closer look later.

River’s Crossing Inn was an unassuming place, the kind of hotel that knows all about its quality and doesn’t need to show it off. Chris booked in and got a free room upgrade after he mentioned Mitch. He lugged his suitcase up from the car and settled in. After a much-needed shower that washed away the sweaty legacy of a day’s travel, he took a quick nap to get back some energy. When he woke, he fired up his laptop and browsed through the pictures of Beth he’d collected over the two years of their online relationship.

They’d started out as friends brought together via an international affairs discussion forum. They’d gone on to be what Beth called cyber-lovers. The pictures he’d got of her reflected that. He stared at the first and remembered the sense of anticipation as the download progress bar crept across the screen—that was when he still used dial-up Internet.

He remembered the pounding in his chest as he double-clicked the icon to open the picture and the delight he felt when she filled his screen. It was a picture taken at her college graduation and she was everything he’d imagined and more.

The last photo she’d sent him showed just how far their relationship had come. She was lying on her bed in her underwear and sporting a ‘come to bed’ smile. She’d sent it several weeks ago—before she’d received her devastating news.

They’d been saying for over a year that they should meet in real life. That one of them should get a flight and visit the other.

But they’d never gotten around to it.

Chris hoped that his unannounced visit would be a pleasant surprise. She deserved a pleasant surprise. He knew how much she’d been hurting for the last two weeks. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything would be okay. The last message she’d sent him before he signed off and went to bed the night before was “I need a hug.” He’d been in London then and couldn’t help her. Now he was in River’s Crossing, he could help her.