Even so we ran around the three motel parking lots as well. That probably added another mile or so to the run.I was tired when I stepped into the shower, but I wasn't in pain. That would come in about an hour. I dressed for the day in the green fatigue pants, they were sold in stores under the name cargo pants. Mine were big, sloppy and black, most women wouldn't dare wear. I loved them because they had lots of big pockets. I had even had a special holster made for the .38. It was made in probably the last shoe shop in the USA. The holster had a front and a back made of stiff canvas with a Velcro strap over the hammer for safety. There was no way to attach it to anything. But it slipped into the pocket of those cargo pants beautifully. I could wear those pants with a tee shirt and still carry the .38 and a couple of box openers, as well as the stun gun. What was there not to love about the pants? Well except that they wanted to fall down all the time.I packed the Glock on top of the. When I decided I needed to find you, I got a part time job there - weekends on the reservations desk, evenings and nights as front desk watch, that kind of stuff. Anyway, eventually, I got access to their computer files. That made getting your address easy." I see," Sarah murmured, taking a sip of her drink to soothe a suddenly very dry throat. "Well, that explains how, but not the why." That's a harder question," he replied, carefully. "I... I decided I needed to talk to you again. I needed..." Lou's voice broke, and for the next moment, seemed to struggle to compose himself.Sarah felt an almost overwhelming need to go to him, to comfort him, but fought it back. She wasn't sure he'd accept it from her in any case. Finally, she could stand the silence no longer. "Needed, what, Lou? How can I help you? CAN I help you?" I don't know," he finally admitted.Should I tell him I know about his... enforced celibacy? Tell him that it is not necessary any longer, Sarah wondered? Or would that.
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