The Collector Page 56
It was after 1:00 a.m. when Alan finally returned to the motel room. He wasn’t drunk—just buzzed and exhausted enough to want nothing more than to hit the rack and pass out. He gave Pan some fresh water, washed his face, brushed his teeth, took off his clothes and plopped down on the bed.
In spite of his fatigue, he managed a smile as he recalled the evening with Marcia. The girl was addicting, that much he knew. And the more time he spent with her, the more he could feel her chipping away at the thick wall of ice he had built around himself ever since Julie’s death.
Was it possible for him to fall in love with somebody else?
Before today he had always thought not.
But now he wasn’t so sure about that.
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