On Borrowed Time by David Rosenfelt Page A

experience with that lately,” I said. “Pile it on.”
    He nodded. “Have you considered the possibility that Allie is a creation of your mind as well?”

 
    I didn’t want to tell Allie what Garber said. I’m not sure why, but it was probably because if Garber was right it tended to prove that Jen was not real, and that therefore she was not Julie. According to Garber, there had once been a time that I knew Jen was a fantasy, and I had been trying to claw my way back to the reality-based world.
    Allie would be crushed by this news, and I didn’t want to be the one to do the crushing. There was also a chance that she would go to Garber’s office and punch his lights out; she was not exactly the shy, retiring type. But either way she deserved to be told, and I did so when we went out to dinner that night.
    She wound up dismissing it out of hand. “I’m sorry, Richard, I’m not buying it.”
    “You think Garber is lying?”
    “No, but that doesn’t mean he’s right. Look, none of this has made sense from day one, and if I was only thinking logically, I’d be back home, curled up in the fetal position, whimpering. But that doesn’t get me anywhere; it doesn’t get us anywhere. So I’m going on instinct, and I’m going to continue doing so until I can’t anymore. You can join me or not.”
    “He also questioned whether you are real.”
    Hearing that actually reduced the tension, and she smiled at the ridiculousness of it. “Just what we need: psychobabble bullshit. Now let’s get serious, okay?”
    I could have argued, but I didn’t. She was willing her energy level to be so high, and her focus to be so complete, that I was fine being dragged along by it. I felt a kind of relief that I didn’t have to be the driving force, that I was no longer alone in my search. “Good. What’s our next step?”
    “I’m going to see Susan Donovan; I found out where she lives.”
    “Where?”
    “Up near Monticello, in the Catskills.”
    “It’s not very far from Ardmore.”
    She smiled. “Exactly. But I don’t want to call her again; I want to surprise her by showing up. I’ll get a better sense of how she reacts that way.”
    “I’ll go with you.”
    She shook her head. “No, if she sees you, she might panic.”
    “You realize she could easily have nothing to do with this.”
    “She was scared on the phone,” she said.
    “Maybe she thought you were a bill collector.”
    “Richard, let’s be a little more positive, shall we?”
    I smiled. “Sorry; I’ll try.”
    We ordered dinner, and tried to talk about something else. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, passing near the front of the restaurant on the way. It was then that I noticed the car across the street, with the device sitting on the window.
    I went back to the table and sat down. “There’s a car across the street, with a man sitting in it, and something on the window.”
    “So?”
    “So I think the same car was across from the Carnegie Deli when we were having breakfast yesterday.”
    “How can you tell?”
    “The thing on the window; when I saw it the first time I thought it might be a siren, and that it might be a police car. It caught my eye, that’s all.”
    “Did you see the driver?”
    I nodded. “Yes, and it looks like the same guy, although I can’t be sure. He’s staring at the restaurant, just like he was doing last time.”
    “Do you think he might have anything to do with you?”
    I shook my head. “I can’t imagine what. It just struck me as an odd coincidence.”
    “Are you sure about this?” she asked.
    “I’m a reporter, Allie. I notice things.”
    “So let’s find out what he’s up to,” she said.
    “How?”
    “Confront him; see how he reacts.”
    Once again Allie was advocating the direct approach, but I thought I had a better idea.
    “When we’re done eating, if he’s still there, I’ll leave alone. You stay behind and see if he follows me. Go to your hotel, and I’ll meet you in the