Shame

leash off the dog and turning it on her. She had seen firsthand what his father could do with a pair of panty hose.
    Elizabeth suppressed her shudder. “Alternate plan,” she said. “Let’s meet at a coffee house.”
    “I remember now,” he said, finally looking at her.
    “Remember what?”
    “People looking at me like that—that look.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Your scared look. But at least you’re better than some people.”
    “Which people?”
    “The ones with the freak show stare. The kind who looked at me like something at the zoo.”
    Elizabeth stood silently until he said, “Heavenly Café. It’s a few miles west of here on the beach. There will be enough people around for you to feel safe. I’ll be there in half an hour or so.”
    Her second cup of coffee was long cold, and the crowd at Heavenly Café had thinned. The help was putting away umbrellas and tidying the patio, unmistakable signs that the welcome mat was being pulled. It was after nine o’clock, a time when most people weren’t looking for a caffeine fix. Only one other outdoor table was still occupied, and the couple sitting there looked ready to depart. Two hours had passed since Caleb Parker had promised to meet her in “half an hour or so.”
    I probably shouldn’t have confronted him, Elizabeth thought. Maybe I spooked him, sent him running. Or maybe he decided to talk with a lawyer instead of me. She hoped that she hadn’t jeopardized the investigation. As she waited, Elizabeth wondered if Caleb knew how much he resembled his father. Seeing him had shocked her, had been like seeing a ghost. She also wondered if the resemblance was only skin deep.
    That lingering thought made her look around. She tried to make her head movements appear casual and unconcerned, but she took notice of every dark corner. Gray Parker had often scouted out his victims, had sometimes watched them for days before attacking them. He had described his spying as a form of “intimacy.” She was relieved when her surveillance revealed no lurking figures.
    Next door to the café was a Mexican restaurant with enough people still dining to make Elizabeth feel as if she wasn’t alone. Their laughter kept reaching out to her. She watched as diners happily sipped colorful margaritas. Her vantage point offered her a good spot to take in the Southern California ambience. The Pacific Ocean was close enough to be seen and heard, and the night was balmy, with a gentle ocean breeze.
    A voice interrupted her reverie, startled her: “Last chance for java.”
    The last call for caffeine was made by what she guessed was a full-time surfer and part-time help. The young man’s long, brown hair had sun-streaked strands of gold running through it. The way he walked and talked and breathed was an endorsement of insouciance. Probably his only worry in the world was whether the waves would be breaking in the morning.
    “I’ll pass.”
    The young man appeared happy with her choice, and Elizabeth relinquished her cup to him. She reached for her purse and pulled out her car keys. Out of habit, she positioned her longest key between her index and middle finger and made a fist. She stood up, and then her reactions took over. Shame was there. She’d had too many nightmares not to react to him, too many evenings of waking in a soaked nightgown thinking about him. Her hand shot up toward his face, the key brandished like a knife.
    “Don’t,” he said.
    Don’t scream,
she remembered.
    Elizabeth was slow to lower her arm. To let go of her memories. “You’re late,” she said.
    He nodded.
    No explanation, she noticed. She wondered if he had purposely waited for the café to close before showing up.
    “If you still want to talk,” he said, “there’s a bar nearby.”
    Probably a dark bar, she thought. And people who were drinking would be unreliable witnesses.
    “I don’t like bars,” she said. “And I’d prefer talking where it’s well lit and there’s lots of foot traffic.”
    Caleb didn’t answer immediately. It wasn’t clear whether he was unhappy with her alternative or just trying to think of the right spot. “D. G.’s,” he finally said, his hand pointing the direction. “It’s a doughnut shop just down the street.”
    She nodded, her eyes never leaving him. “Wait here,” she said, “until I get in my car.”
    Elizabeth walked past him, went down the steps, then paused at the street. She looked both ways, then