Vanished in the Dunes Read Online Free PDF

is a boyfriend who must surely suck on her painted toes. He had a second cousin named Henry, a gangling, acne-faced teenager when he last saw him more than forty years ago. The name merges with his memory’s image of his cousin.
    â€œHenry gave me this.” She absently fingers a gold chain necklace from which hangs a small capital letter
H
. “To remember that both our names start with
H
.”
    â€œAnd what does Henry do?” he asks as if he might find some positive trait in the man sufficient to move her down the stairs and farther away from the bedroom.
    â€œHe’s a resident in radiology. Also at Mt. Sinai.”
    Posner has regained his composure and has a sarcastic urge to say that Henry’s balls were already probably burned away by radiation and that his sexual future was at best iffy, which is probably why she is here, but he says nothing. He feels her fingers slip away from his hand as she turns toward the steps.
    â€œIs Henry Jewish?” he asks, and immediately realizes the banality of his words, yet she quietly says, “Yes, but he’s not very religious.” He hopes that perhaps she now realizes she shouldn’t be here, and that her seduction was misplaced. It’s time to go.
    He pats the pocket with his keys, and then his eyes abruptly look down to his jacket. He moves his hands from one pocket to the other, stopping for a moment and then repeating the process.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” she asks.
    His hands stay in motion while his body turns to scan the floor, as if the object of his interest might somehow lie at his feet. He walks back to the couch and lifts the cushions before he comes back.
    â€œDid you lose something?” At first he doesn’t appear to hear, as he scans the floor, the kitchen counter, and the hallway.
    â€œMy wallet. Can’t find my wallet. Dammit! I just went to the bank and took out a lot of cash. Goddammit! We’ve got to go. I must havedropped it at the beach or at Citarella’s. Come on. First I’ll drop you at the bus stop.”
    â€œI don’t want to go just yet. Maybe after some more wine. Maybe when you get back.”
    Her smile teases him. She stretches here arms behind her head, which accentuates the swell of her breasts. Her mouth opens and her lips seem to ripen. She knows what she’s doing, but he has no interest in such games. Not now. Not anymore.
    â€œI said I want to go now.” His voice rises.
    He grabs at her upper arm, but she pulls away.
    â€œDon’t.”
    â€œSorry. Look I don’t have time for this. I’ll be back soon, but be ready to leave when I get here.”
    He moves down the steps and out the door without looking back. He doesn’t see her, but senses she still stands and watches him while he feels a mocking smile, until the closing door swallows the image.
    It takes longer than the few minutes he’d hoped. The beach yields nothing, and so he drives to Citarella’s. It’s not under the table he sat at, and he goes inside and asks a cashier. She directs him to the manager who’s on the phone. It’s maddening. There’s nearly five hundred dollars in the wallet, but he can’t rush it.
    â€œYes, we found the wallet,” the manager says without hesitation after the briefest of inquiries.
    As his Lexus enters his own street, a car he doesn’t recognize turns at the far corner. Another few weeks till summer and this street will be full of cars. His watch shows almost forty minutes have passed since he left. Dammit. What if Sara had called while he was out? He parks and leaves the car door open as he jogs up the front steps.
    The door opens about three-quarters of the way and then stops. Something blocks further effort. Something heavy, but there’s still enough room for him to easily enter.
    She lays there without moving. Her eyes closed. He calls to her, but his voice is no more than an echo. At first he thinks