Late Rain (38 page)

One of the brothers at Little Athens held up two white Styrofoam boxes and waved him in. Ben paid and headed back to his car.

He was about to key the ignition when he noticed a young woman a couple of parking slots over walking in tight circles with her head bowed. Just as he was about to pull away, she lifted her head and looked directly at him. Her face was wet.

Ben hesitated, then got out of the car. He called over, asking if she were all right.

The woman raised her arm and let it fall. “No,” she said. “I’m locked out of my car.” She turned partway and pointed at the driver’s side window. “I left the keys in the ignition and my cell phone on the front seat.”

Ben took a couple steps closer, and the woman turned and began quickly scanning the lot and storefronts. He stopped and took out his wallet and held up his badge.

“I’m off duty,” he said. “Maybe I can help.”

The woman slowly nodded and stepped away from the door. She looked to be in her late twenties and was pretty in a way that didn’t immediately draw attention to itself. She had trouble maintaining eye contact with Ben for more than a couple seconds at a time.

“I’m supposed to be somewhere,” she said. “That’s the thing.” Her voice trailed off. She wrapped her left hand in her right and looked toward the street.

The car was a dark blue Ford, a basic model, at least a decade and a half older than the woman. Standard locks. No keyless entry.

“Let me check my trunk,” Ben said. “See if I have a lockout bar with me.”

He walked over to his car, opened the trunk, and found the bar. The woman glanced at her watch, at him, then away.

Ben knelt by the car door. There was a clutch of packages piled at the woman’s feet. The top of one of the bags was partially open. Ben saw what looked like a pair of sheer black panties folded in on themselves.

“I guess it’s lucky I ran into you.” She gave a short, awkward laugh. “Or you into me, I guess it was.”

For a moment, Ben could smell her perfume, and when he looked up, he ran into her reflection above his own, their faces caught on the curve of the glass and emptied of color under the nimbus of the mercury lights.

Then the woman’s face disappeared, and Ben heard the rustle of plastic as she began to gather her packages.

He lifted the bar and slipped it between the door and glass and worked on jimmying the lock.

The drift of perfume again.

The scent was familiar, but the name eluded him.

Rain Something
.

The bar jammed, hanging up until Ben adjusted its angle. He gently lifted, coaxing the bar, and snagged the locking mechanism.

A moment later, he stood up. He waited before he turned to the woman.

“There you go,” he said.

She put the packages on the front seat, and Ben caught her perfume again.

The woman turned and ran her hand through her hair. She gave a quick smile and thanked him, then got in and cranked the engine.

Ben watched her drive off, then walked back to his car.

Something Rain
, he thought.

He sat behind the wheel until it came to him.

Late
.

That was it.

Lynn Kostoff is a professor of English and writer in residence at Francis Marion University in Florence, South Carolina. He’s previously written
A Choice of Nightmares
and
The Long Fall.
Visit
www.lynkostoff.com
for more information.