The little black dress was a signal she felt playful or romantic or adventurous – or all three. Early in their relationship she’d taught him that the mail order black negligees and garter belts other husbands forced their wives to wear annoyed the hell out of her. What was she supposed to get out of spending a half hour dressing up to look like a dimwitted whore only to be undressed again in another five minutes? All this poured out of her one night when they were on their way to dinner. She was wearing her little black dress. “There’s nothing under it,” she said as they were seated, at her request, in a corner banquette. “And you aren’t going to get any dessert until you finish all your dinner.”

“Enjoy it anyway,” said the headwaiter nervously, as he gave them menus. She waited until he was gone, her eyes on her husband.

“Of course,” she said, “you could sit next to me, if you really want.” Merrill remembered calling the busboy to reset the table. Them Merrill covered her lap with the tablecloth…

Now the tears ran down his cheeks. He wheeled the Honda into a side street, made a u-turn so he could watch the main road, turned off the engine, and switched off the headlight. He had to get hold of himself. The problem was not that he was afraid for her — and he was scared to death for her — it was that he still couldn’t figure out what he could do to come to her aid.

The white Mercedes flashed by. Merrill cranked up the Honda and put it in gear and left the headlight off. The driver of the Mercedes would notice a one-eye in his rearview mirror immediately. At least Merrill had been heading in the right direction.

He kept his speed down as the Mercedes disappeared around a bend. At the turn, he braked. He wanted to see what lay ahead before going forward. The moonlight revealed a shadowy road climbing straight up a long, wooded hill. No streetlamps. No houses or parked cars. At least, no driveways here at the bottom end. And no Mercedes.

Merrill eased his foot down on the gas pedal. The air was cooler up here, pleasant and refreshing. He was halfway up the hill when a white sedan backed onto the road one hundred yards in front of him, braked, and turned in his direction. Merrill pulled over to the right sharply as the sedan went past. Its brake lights lit up in Merrill’s mirror.