Cutter (26 page)

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Authors: Thomas Laird

BOOK: Cutter
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Yo
u
don’
t
thin
k
I’
m
fa
t
an
d
puffe
d
an
d
ol
d,
d
o
yo
u?’
I
as
k
he
r
.

Sh
e
stop
s
an
d
look
s
a
t
m
e
wit
h
th
e
ai
d
o
f
th
e
overhea
d
streetlamp
s
.

‘N
o.
Yo
u
loo
k
goo
d.
Bu
t
tha
t
wig’
s
go
t
t
o
g
o.


I
t
wil
l.
Onc
e
w
e
ge
t
ou
t
o
f
her
e.

‘Yo
u
takin
g
m
e
hom
e?’
sh
e
ask
s
.

‘Sur
e.
You’r
e
halfwa
y
ther
e
alread
y.

W
e
ge
t
t
o
th
e
ca
r.I
unloc
k
he
r
sid
e
an
d
le
t
he
r
i
n
.

‘You’r
e
a
gentlema
n.
Don’
t
ge
t
muc
h
o
f
tha
t
anymor
e.’

‘Th
e
leas
t
yo
u
ca
n
sa
y
abou
t
m
e,
De
e
De
e,
i
s
tha
t
I
kno
w
m
y
manner
s.I
ha
d
a
ver
y
stric
t
upbringin
g.

M
y
las
t
word
s
almos
t
lodg
e
themselve
s
a
t
th
e
to
p
o
f
m
y
palat
e.I
fee
l
a
s
thoug
h
I’
m
goin
g
t
o
ga
g,
bu
t
th
e
sensatio
n
passe
s
.

I
driv
e
ou
t
o
f
th
e
Rus
h
Stree
t
distric
t
an
d
hea
d
wes
t
o
n
th
e
Stevenso
n
onc
e
I’v
e
go
t
u
s
ou
t
o
f
th
e
Loo
p
.

She’
s
noddin
g
a
s
i
f
she’
s
halfwa
y
unconsciou
s,
s
o
I
ge
t
n
o
argumen
t
fro
m
he
r
abou
t
wh
y
we’r
e
no
t
heade
d
towar
d
O’Har
e
an
d
th
e
hote
l
adjacen
t
t
o
th
e
airpor
t
.

We’r
e
heade
d
towar
d
hom
e.
Bu
t
no
t
her
s
.

*

Ther
e
i
s
a
cornfiel
d,
minu
s
th
e
cro
p,
directl
y
sout
h
o
f
m
y
hous
e.
W
e
ar
e
fift
y
mile
s
wes
t
o
f
th
e
cit
y.
M
y
neares
t
neighbo
r
i
s
eigh
t
mile
s
fro
m
m
y
farmhous
e
.

M
y
significan
t
othe
r
i
s
i
n
th
e
cit
y
thi
s
evenin
g,
takin
g
car
e
o
f
busines
s.
Jus
t
a
s
I
a
m
.

I
sto
p
th
e
ca
r
an
d
I
tur
n
of
f
th
e
engin
e.
Sh
e
wake
s
a
s
w
e
com
e
t
o
a
complet
e
hal
t.
Sh
e
look
s
ou
t
th
e
windo
w
an
d
see
s
th
e
singl
e
ligh
t
shinin
g
fro
m
a
lam
p
i
n
m
y
fron
t
windo
w.
Th
e
hous
e
i
s
onl
y
a
hundre
d
yard
s
fro
m
thi
s
fiel
d
wher
e
we’r
e
parke
d
.

‘Wher
e
i
n
th
e
hel
l
ar
e
w
e?’
sh
e
want
s
t
o
kno
w
.


I
jus
t
too
k
u
s
fo
r
a
rid
e.
It’
s
a
nic
e,
cris
p,
earl
y
winter’
s
evenin
g,
an
d
yo
u
lik
e
t
o
g
o
fo
r
ride
s,
don’
t
yo
u?

Sh
e
nod
s,
bu
t
she’
s
stil
l
hal
f
ou
t
o
f
i
t
.

I
ope
n
he
r
fu
r
coa
t
.

‘Anyon
e
eve
r
thro
w
bloo
d
o
n
thi
s
thin
g?’
I
crac
k
.

Sh
e
moan
s
somethin
g
o
r
othe
r,
bu
t
it’
s
no
t
a
sexua
l
moa
n.
No
t
ye
t
.

I
unbutto
n
he
r
sil
k
blous
e.
She’
s
a
ver
y
wel
l-
dresse
d
fligh
t
attendan
t.I
remin
d
mysel
f
t
o
sav
e
he
r
coa
t
an
d
clothin
g.
M
y
significan
t
othe
r
wil
l
lik
e
De
e
Dee’
s
tast
e
.

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