“It works both ways, you know, I need you as much as you need me.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so perfect.”
They were silent again.
Then she said, “There’s another reason that those memories of Chicago don’t scare me any more. I mean, besides the fact that I’ve got you now.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, it has to do with Bruno Frye. Tonight I began to realize that he and I have a lot in common. It looks like he endured the same sort of torture from Katherine that I got from Earl and Emma. But he cracked, and I didn’t. That big strong man cracked, but I held on. That means something to me. It means a lot. It tells me that I shouldn’t worry so much, that I should not be afraid of opening myself to people, that I can take just about anything the world throws at me.”
“That’s what I told you. You’re strong, tough, hard as nails,” Tony said.
“I’m not hard. Feel me. Do I feel hard?”
“Not here,” he said.
“What about here?”
“Firm,” he said.
“Firm isn’t the same as hard.”
“You feel nice.”
“Nice isn’t the same as hard either.”
“Nice and firm and warm,” he said.
She squeezed him.
“This is hard,” she said, grinning.
“But it’s not hard to make it soft again. Want me to show you?”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes. Show me.”
They made love again.
As Tony filled her up and explored her with long silken strokes, as waves of pleasure crashed through her, she was sure that everything would be all right. The act of love reassured her, gave her tremendous confidence in the future. Bruno Frye had not come back from the grave. She wasn’t being stalked by a walking corpse. There was a logical explanation. Tomorrow they would talk to Dr. Rudge and Rita Yancy, and they would learn what lay behind the mystery of the Frye look-alike. They would uncover enough information and proof to help the police, and the double would be found, arrested. The danger would pass. Then she would always be with Tony, and Tony with her, and then nothing really bad could happen. Nothing could hurt her. Neither Bruno Frye nor anyone else could hurt her. She was happy and safe at last.
Later, as she lay on the edge of sleep, a sharp crash of thunder filled the sky, rolled down the mountains, into the valley, and over the house.
A strange thought flashed through her mind: The thunder is a warning. It’s an omen. It’s telling me to be careful and not to be so damned sure of myself.
But before she could explore that thought further, she fell off the edge of sleep, all the way down into it.
***
Frye drove north from Los Angeles, traveling near the sea at first, then swinging inland with the freeway.
California had just come out of one of its periodic gasoline shortages. Service stations were open. Fuel was available. The freeway was a concrete artery running through the flesh of the state. The twin scalpels of his headlights laid it bare for his examination.
As he drove, he thought about Katherine. The bitch! What was she doing in St. Helena? Had she moved back into the house on the cliff? If she had done that, had she also taken over control of the winery again? And would she try to force him to move in with her? Would he have to live with her and obey her as before? All of those questions were of vital importance to him, even though most of them didn’t make any sense whatsoever and could not be sensibly answered.
He was aware that his mind was not clear. He wasn’t able to think straight regardless of how hard he tried, and that inability frightened him.
He wondered if he should pull over at the next rest area and get some sleep. When he woke he might have control of himself again.
But then he remembered that Hilary-Katherine was already in St. Helena, and the possibility that she was setting a trap for him in his own house was far more unsettling than his temporary inability to order his thoughts.