Annihilation

He had not stayed long. If I'd been in his shoes, Barrington thought, with Jeannie dressed like that, I would have stayed there all night and most of Sunday. He checked the car's clock for the twentieth time and decided to call Jim again. He might have heard from the FBI by now. Barrington left his car and walked to the corner. The smell of French fries made him hungry, but he did not like to eat hamburgers out of fast-food containers. He got a cup of black coffee and went to the pay phone. "They went to New York," Jim told him. It was as Barrington had feared. "Wayne Stattner," he said. "Yup." "Shit. What did they do?" "Asked him to account for his movements last Sunday, and like that. He was at the Emmys. Had his picture, in People magazine. End of story." "Any indication what Jeannie might be planning to do next?" "No. What's happening there?" "Not a lot. I can see her door from here. She did some shopping, Steve Logan came and went, nothing. Maybe they've run out of ideas." "And maybe not. All we know is that your scheme of firing her didn't shut her up." "All right, Jim, don't rub it in. Wait - she's coming out." She had changed her clothes: she was wearing white jeans and a royal blue sleeveless blouse that showed her strong arms. "Follow her," Jim said. "The hell with that. She's getting into her car." "Berry, we have to know where she goes." "I'm not a cop, goddamn it!" A little girl on her way to the ladies' room with her mother said: "That man shouted, Mommy." "Hush, darling," her mother said. Barrington lowered his voice. "She's pulling away." "Get in your damn car!" "Fuck you, Jim." "Follow her!" Jim hung up. Barrington cradled the phone. Jeannie's red Mercedes went by and turned south on Falls Road. Barrington ran to his car.