In Nagle’s Apothecary Café, Shawn Ostrander sat on a swivel chair at the Formica counter and asked the cheerful waitress for two cups of coffee to go. The ceiling fans whirred quietly, creating turn-of-the-century atmosphere while moving the air within the old pharmacy turned ice cream parlor and sandwich shop. Though the air-conditioning was cranked up inside, the excessive heat outside blasted through each time the front door opened.
As he waited for his order, Shawn stared at the black ceramic rosettes on the white tile floor, his mind trying to focus on the task at hand. No matter what Leslie had been through, he had work to do this morning. He had to concentrate on his research. But first, Shawn wanted to see if Carly Neath would meet him tonight at his bartending job in Asbury Park.
As the waitress affixed plastic lids to the paper coffee cups, Shawn made his pitch. “It’s Guitarbecue at the Stone Pony tonight, Carly. Guitar and barbecue. Wanna come?”
Carly slid the coffee containers into a paper sack and handed it to him. “That sounds like fun, but I have to babysit tonight.”
“For who?” Shawn asked.
“The Richeys. Tent people.”
“What time will they be home?”
“Not too late.” Carly shrugged. “Elevenish, I guess.”
“You could come after that,” he offered.
Carly looked down at the counter. “I’m kind of surprised you even want to be seen with someone tonight, Shawn,” she said in a low voice.
“You mean…because of Leslie?”
Carly’s blond ponytail bounced as she nodded.
“Look, Carly,” he began slowly. “I feel bad about Leslie. I really do. But I can’t help her anymore. I have to get on with my life. And I can’t worry about what people might think, either.”
Carly felt sorry for Shawn as she watched the dejected expression on his face. He’d told her a little about his former girlfriend, and she didn’t sound all that stable. But if Leslie had faked her own kidnapping to get his attention, as the gossips were yakking about this morning, Carly felt some responsibility. She knew Shawn had told Leslie that he wanted to see someone else right before she disappeared.
“Okay,” she said. “I guess I could meet you there.” She felt better as she saw Shawn’s face brighten.
“Great, Carly.” He grinned. “I’ll see you tonight, then, at the Stone Pony. I’m off now to track down Arthur.”
Carly looked at her watch. “Oh, I wish I could come with you, but I still have a couple hours to go here.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell Arthur you were asking for him.”
Carly smiled. “I really enjoyed meeting Arthur the other day, Shawn. I admire you for wanting to help him.”
Shawn brushed off the compliment. “It’s no big deal, and sometimes, I think I get more out of it than he does.”
He paid for the coffee and exited the restaurant, turning left on Main Avenue. Squinting in the glaring sun, he peered out toward the Atlantic Ocean as he walked the two long blocks to the boardwalk.
As he trudged on through the heat, irrepressible thoughts of Leslie clouded his mind. Shawn felt guilty about having broken up with her when she was so needy. He felt ashamed he hadn’t joined the search party that had scoured the town looking for her. He was sorry he really didn’t care anymore about what had happened to her and was feeling such relief that he was finally done with her.
If anyone had told him the day he met Leslie, when he went to Surfside Realty to find out about a new apartment, that the rail-thin young woman behind the reception desk was going to be so much trouble, Shawn probably would have ignored the warning anyway. He found himself immediately attracted to Leslie Patterson. She was not particularly pretty, not like Carly; but her dark brown eyes pulled him in like magnets. There was a wistfulness to her, as if she was waiting for someone to come riding in to save the day for her.
As he reached Ocean Avenue, Shawn stopped to let the cars pass before crossing over to the boardwalk, telling himself that Leslie was not his problem anymore. Out of pity and a sense of responsibility, he had stayed with her way too long. He’d thought he could help her, cure her, fix her. He’d thought that he could will her to get better, that patience and attention and affection would nurse her to health.
What colossal ego he’d had.
Finally, Shawn had come to understand that neither he nor anyone else could make Leslie Patterson well. Her problems went too deep. Much deeper than the cuts she made with safety pins and broken glass behind her knees and into the flesh of her inner thighs.