He was stockier, no doubt obsessively lifted weights to make up for the inches he lacked. His hair was cut close to his head, even from a distance Dun...can could make out the faint outline of scaring underneath. The man’s brown eyes never blinked, they were permanently fixed on Tessa. He wasn’t all that different from ordinary, if it hadn’t been for the missing eyebrow and burn scars along his face and throat, no one would have noticed him if they passed him on the street. It was the newcomer who. The desert beyond the tracks was empty, just showing some distant lights from the freeway on the horizon. It was cowboy country. Jim would be at home here: no involvements, no one trying to touch him, no subtleties. The train had passed a famous bordello earlier in the evening. She had read about it in a travel magazine, but perhaps she would have guessed what it was anyway. Expensive limos, dirty pick-up trucks, a slick-looking low-rider, were pulling up for the evening activities. She could. Mae was facing away from me when Dale and I got up to leave so she wasn't aware of the fact that I had seen her. When we got outside I told Dale goodnight and that I would see him in the morning and then I got in my car and parked where I could watch the door to the restaurant. When Mae came out I watched her get in a car with the guy and when they drove off I followed. They didn't go five blocks before pulling into the parking lot of a motel and I sat across the street and watched as they. It takes about three seconds for my brain to process that I likely overslept. I sleepily reach for my cell phone on the night stand, which is only inches away from my face. I swipe the screen with an index finger and give a one eyed wink at the screen to see the time. 7:19 AM. The Eurostar train that I hope to take to Paris today has already departed almost an hour ago, and is close to reaching Gare du Nord. Dammit. In my next thought, I remind myself that I’m on holiday, and I refuse to get.