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Show ) Coffee Drinkers Preferred Page 133 of 307 that the light of day might actually draw you out doors. Sariah followed one of these, and Steve managed to track her, camera by camera, until she vanished completely. I tried not to laugh. After all, he hadn't made me feel too badly about losing her the day before. I confess that I was glad to see him make the error, but only because he had been so smug and condescending with me so frequently. He scanned through a dozen cameras on the casino floor, a set of poker machine's here and a craps table there. He couldn't find her. The images on my phone went dead. Then he hung up. I imagined him storming around his single wide kicking everything except for his beloved Clint Eastwood shrine. Or who knows. Maybe he was just coolly downing a shot with a look a fierce determination in his eyes. Then I spotted her. She was driving a silver Mazda. Most cars were silver and they all seemed to'look vaguely similar these days. But only one of them was being driven by Sariah. She was exiting the driveway of a parking garage connected to El Diablo Smiling Clown Casino. I was idling just a few car * lengths back and she paused in the light morning traffic long enough for me to make out her regal jaw and statuesque profile before she turned right. Perhaps I had been staring at her photos a bit much. She was not just pretty. She was something bigger than that. I hate to reach into the Hollywood vernacular that we |