She continued to follow the cloak that moved through the crowd, then slipped into a door. As soon as Clarice arrived inside the building, she found herself in a brothel, and wasted no time crossing it, dodging drunken and excited patrons and half-n***d prostitutes while she soaked in her surroundings. He could be anywhere, and the environment confused her, dark as it was compared to the outside. She slipped into the only corridor that was there—the rooms were closed off by simple curtains, which were too thin to hide the sweaty, entangled bodies. She peered into each until she saw a half-closed door at the end of the room. She ran to check, and the exit opened into an equally noisy and crowded street. She had lost him.
“Gods damn it!” she exclaimed, punching the door. In her fatigue, she
