Marshal Montgomery had booked a room for three nights at the Chambers' Bed and Breakfast in the town of Jones Heights. Angst's shift the next day started at noon; Marshal had already headed out by then. Theresa Chambers told her that he had been quiet and polite during breakfast and had taken one of the Walking Tour maps from the front desk when he left. When Angst was replacing the towels and soaps in his room she resisted the urge to go through his travel bag. She noticed that he had used the room's kettle to make a tea but hadn't used any of the packets of instant coffee.
Frank followed Marshal for hours as he walked the streets of the small town, stopping in shops but buying nothing. Along the canal, sitting at a park bench for a while. Marshal wore a satchel over his shoulder and listened to earphones as he strolled through the Heights. Occasionally he would take a notebook from the satchel and jot something down.
Eventually Frank came to feel that there was some sleight resemblance, but without Angst's prompting he never would have made the connection. But he was also less certain than Angst that there wasn't some need lurking there... He was, if not happy, at least content. Teaching guitar lessons, the occasional gig at the local pub, part-time work doing some record-keeping for a few small businesses. Dinners and movie-nights with Angst a couple times a week. There was a lack, though. There was the memory of his finger on a trigger. Even shadowing Marshal for the day brought back the rush, reminded him that once he had been a hunter.
When Marshal stopped at the pub around dinner, Frank decided he would make contact. Frank was well-known there, it would be easy to create opportunities to start a friendly conversation with a tourist.
Three hours later Frank called Angst.
“It's him. He doesn't know that he's him, but you were right.”
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