Arsonist

EPILOGUE

Emma sat at a booth by the window of the small café. It was sunny out and the weather appeared calm in a cloudless sky. She sipped coffee and read on her iPad. The waiter came by a couple of times but she told him she was waiting for someone. She looked out at the street and watched the cars as they passed by, looking at the faces of the drivers. When she was young she would play a game where she would try to guess what they did for a living or where they were going. If they had a wife or husband waiting for them somewhere.

When she grew older, she began guessing how they would die. She stopped playing the game after that.

She saw the front entrance open and Jon Stanton walk in. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt with sandals and appeared far tanner than even a week ago. He came to her table with a smile and sat down across from her, picking up a menu without saying anything.

“How was surfing?” she asked.

“Fine. The waves were good and there wasn’t any wind. I’ll have to take you as soon as you’re ready.”

“I’d like that.”

The waiter came back and Stanton ordered a fish sandwich with fries and a Diet Coke. He reached across the table and held Emma’s hand as he looked out the window at the sky. Emma studied his face. When they had first met, she noticed that he would crinkle his brow in a look of concentration. The look appeared permanent, as he would sometimes have it even when he was relaxing. It was gone now.

She thought he had never looked happier.

“We should go somewhere,” he said. “Just go to the airport and get on the first plane we find. No matter where it’s going.”

She smiled and ran her finger over a scar he had on the back of his hand. “I’d like that too.”

He leaned over the table, and kissed her.