Chapter 32

Tuesday, July 6, 9:15 a.m.

Madeleine finished a pleasant breakfast in the hotel dining room, noticing that the room overlooked the splendid pool where she would be spending the late morning. Just beyond the pool, dozens of luxury sailboats and cabin cruisers rocked quietly in the marina. Across the river, a smaller hotel, with its own elaborate marina, was clearly visible.

"Sam chose the right place," Madeleine thought. "If there's anywhere in town where I can get seen, this is it." She hoped his plan would work, but she was skeptical. There were too many what-ifs. What if the perp was long-gone? And if he was a local man, what if he just didn't take the bait? Worse, what if he just never saw the bait? Twin Rivers was a small town, but it wasn't a village. People who lived here all their lives -- and visitors who spent weeks in the area -- might never visit this hotel.

But it was a prominent location.

Madeleine went over Sam's schedule until she had it memorized. She'd carry it with her, certain that she could never sort all the time-of-day-based emergency numbers without it, but she had thoroughly memorized her schedule of stops.

Susan Hatfield had told Sam that Emma's initial encounter with the suspect had been on a weekday -- a Thursday. Emma had taken that afternoon off from work, so Susan hadn't been certain whether the incident Emma had described had occurred in the afternoon or the evening. For that reason, Sam's schedule for Madeleine was a strenuous one: afternoon and early-evening visits to a prearranged series of commercial establishments, each day for the next three days.

Madeleine's morning-by-the-pool schedule certainly was reasonable, but there was to be no scheduled return to the hotel between afternoon and evening. Sam felt that too much coming and going, from the hotel to commercial establishments, might appear to a stalker to be strange behavior.

Each late afternoon, therefore, following the scheduled run to stores or supermarket, Madeleine was to drive out of the city for several miles -- until Sam or Hugh passed her on the highway and gave her the sign that she was definitely not being followed.

From that time until 7 p.m., Madeleine was simply to stay out of sight. The easiest way, Sam said, was to continue driving for the 23-mile distance to Roseton, west of Twin Rivers. Roseton was a tiny hamlet boasting two restaurants and a general store. In Roseton, she would be free to have an early dinner, or just kill time as inconspicuously as possible, before heading back to the city for the evening run.

Sam had said he, or Hugh, would join her each day at her chosen location in Roseton, once they'd made certain that no one was following.

After a 7:00 to 8:30 p.m. shopping reprise, Madeleine was supposed to head back to the hotel for the evening. There, she could have a solitary dinner, an evening swim, whatever appealed to her. By that time, only Sam would be available to watch her, so she was under instruction not to leave the hotel grounds. If there was no sign of trouble by 10 p.m., Sam would go home for the night, and Madeleine was under strict orders not to leave the room, or open the door to anyone, until morning.

It was going to be a long day for the three of them, she thought. "I've actually got the better of it. Those guys have got to be alert all the time. All I have to do is pretend to be a vacationer with a shopping fixation."

But back in her room after breakfast that first morning, Madeleine was tense. In a little while, she was supposed to go out to the pool and take the sun for the remainder of the morning. She loved the water, and didn't mind the fact that she would be on display. Truth be told, she enjoyed that part of the plan. Madeleine had never been a timid person, and she was justly proud of her body. She felt that she understood, to some degree, what had motivated Emma Majeski. Every woman in this society, it seemed, had to struggle moment-to-moment with her sexuality. Now, new complexities had been introduced with the emergence and evolution of the Women's Movement.

Madeleine agreed with the feminist leaders: A woman is not merely a plaything for a man. A woman is not a piece of meat.

Still, Madeleine knew, the Movement would never be successful in repealing the laws of nature. Men might become more sensitive, in time, but they would never stop looking at women's bodies.

And Madeleine would never be able to find that fact altogether reprehensible.

Her apprehension now was not the product of unhappiness with the nature of her assignment, or of trepidation about the behavior expected of her. "I'd do this in a minute," she thought, "if it were part of -- say -- an elaborate practical joke on a friend." She was tense for the excellent reason that they were looking for an extremely dangerous man. A murderer. Sam's plan was a cautious one, but it was not risk-free.

Madeleine had been a police officer for five years, but in all that time, she had confronted real danger on only a handful of occasions. In each of those instances, the danger had appeared suddenly, tensions rapidly had reached a peak, and the episode had resolved itself in a matter of minutes. The pressure had been enormous, but short-lived. Madeleine and her fellow officers had functioned on an adrenaline surge, followed by an immense rush of relief when the crisis ended.

Today, despite her realization that hours or even days might pass with no encounter with jeopardy, Madeleine was filled with anxiety about what might happen. What could happen.