Edge

that wasn’t going to happen either. Just then she arrived from the opposite side of the park. Unlike Andrew she was smiling, clearly looking forward to seeing him. There was a lightness in her step and she carried a small shopping bag from Neiman Marcus and her camera bag. The now-familiar wheelie suitcase was trailing behind her like a dog. Did the shopping bag contain a present? She’d reverted to her uncertain, childlike role, begging for the man’s approval, which I recalled from the message we’d heard her leave on Andrew’s phone. She was so different with him than, say, someone like me.
    Mr. Tour Guide . . .
    Andrew noticed her and nodded but didn’t smile or end his call. I wondered if he’d made an unnecessary call as a show of power. Animals exhibit dominant behavior, like this, but they do so for survival, not out of ego. I knew that Andrew had hurt Maree in the past and I sensed too, seeing this disregard,that he was a threat to her now, as Joanne had believed.
    Since my workweek was over, I’d left my Glock in my locked desk drawer. Still, I could always call 911. I watched closely, tallying up details that might be important: He was wearing gloves. He had a little stiffness in his hip, I’d noticed earlier. He carried a large backpack, which could contain, or could even be, a weapon. He was not wearing glasses, which would imply a vulnerability that can be helpful to an opponent in flight or fight. The man was clearly fit and strong.
    Still, Maree seemed to notice none of the threat and was clearly pleased to be with him. Smiling still, she sat, kissed him on the nonphone cheek. He gripped her hand, ignored her otherwise for a moment or two longer then hung up. He slipped the phone away and turned to her with a smile. I couldn’t hear the words but the conversation seemed harmless enough. He’d be asking where she’d been for the past few days and—I could tell from the expression of surprise—she told him something of the truth. He gave a brief laugh.
    But whatever you think is going on, Corte, whatever it seems, don’t make assumptions. Stay attentive.
    Sure, Abe.
    Andrew’s grin morphed into a seductive smile and he slipped his arm around her. He whispered what would be the invitation to head back to his apartment. I knew from duBois’s research that he lived not far from here.
    It was then that Maree shook her head and shrugged his arm off her shoulder. She scootedaway. She was silent for a moment, took a breath and then delivered what seemed to be a speech, avoiding his eyes. She seemed awkward at first but then she caught her stride and looked into his impassive face, as he took in her words.
    He gestured with a gloved hand and leaned closer. He spoke a few words and Maree shook her head.
    She lifted the bag and took out a framed photograph. It was a still life I’d seen at the Kesslers’ house and realized that it was probably a gift that he’d given her earlier. One of his own photos maybe. She handed it back to him.
    Well, interesting. She was breaking up.
    He stared at the picture, then smiled sadly. He spoke to her some more, making his case. He leaned in for a kiss but she backed away further and said something else.
    He nodded. Then leapt up in a fury and flung the photo to the sidewalk, where it shattered. Maree cringed, dodging the shards. The he reached out and grabbed her arm. She winced and cried out in pain. He drew back with his other gloved hand, curled into a fist.
    I opened the door and stepped out fast . . .
    Just as Maree too stood and slammed her palm straight into his face. Andrew hadn’t expected any aggressive moves and he was caught completely undefended. She had connected with his nose. The pain would be fierce—I knew; a panicking principal had once elbowed me accidentally.
    He fell back to the bench, hunched over, raging, gripping his bloody face.
    “You fucking bitch.”
    “I told you; it’s through,” she said firmly.
    Now that I was out of the car I could hear them clearly.
    He rose again and reached for her blindly but she calmly shoved him back, hard. Hampered by tears of pain, he stumbled and landed hard on the sidewalk, on his side. He scrambled to his feet and stepped back, digging for a Kleenex.
    “You attacked me, bitch! I’m calling the police.”
    “That’s fine,” she said, the epitome of calm. “Just remember my brother-in-law’s a cop. I know he’d love to talk to you about it. He and some of his friends.”
    I was