Tomorrow he had a lot to do.
The next day, with the face of his Victim before him, Frelaine walked through her neighborhood. He didn’t look closely at anyone. Instead, he moved rapidly, as though he were really going somewhere, the way an old Hunter should walk.
He passed several bars and dropped into one for a drink. Then he went on, down a side street off Lexington Avenue.
There was a pleasant sidewalk cafe there. Frelaine walked past it.
And there she was! He could never mistake the face. It was Janet Patzig, seated at a table, staring into a drink. She didn’t look up as he passed.
* * *
Frelaine walked to the end of the block. He turned the corner and stopped, hands trembling.
Was the girl crazy, exposing herself in the open? Did she think she had a charmed life?
He hailed a taxi and had the man drive around the block. Sure enough, she was just sitting there. Frelaine took a careful look.
She seemed younger than her pictures, but he couldn’t be sure. He would guess her to be not much over twenty. Her dark hair was parted in the middle and combed above her ears, giving her a nunlike appearance. Her expression, as far as Frelaine could tell, was one of resigned sadness.