Well. This was nuts but she thought Shaw. A little. Was she sick to think that? About her captor? Was that quite inappropriate?

Maybe Shaw was attracted to Tara - but Patsy was sure he was closer in spirit to her. Because he was in love with adventure. True, he was a criminal, a son of a b.i.t.c.h, and hanging would have been too good for him. Castration Castration would have been too good for him! But it also had to be admitted that he had blood in his veins. He had the heart of a swashbuckler, which Patsy's daughter couldn't possibly appreciate and which her poor sad husband with his soul full of ashes couldn't would have been too good for him! But it also had to be admitted that he had blood in his veins. He had the heart of a swashbuckler, which Patsy's daughter couldn't possibly appreciate and which her poor sad husband with his soul full of ashes couldn't stand. stand. Patsy wasn't excusing him or forgiving him in any way, ever - she was just saying Shaw McBride had blood in his veins. Patsy wasn't excusing him or forgiving him in any way, ever - she was just saying Shaw McBride had blood in his veins.

Romeo had prepared himself to do what Claude had asked, to be of service. If all he needs is death, I'll provide it, and in return I'll just ask him to tell me again, one more time, about the old fisherman. had prepared himself to do what Claude had asked, to be of service. If all he needs is death, I'll provide it, and in return I'll just ask him to tell me again, one more time, about the old fisherman.

But when he got to the trailer he found he was too late. Claude's eyes were open but no one was there. Romeo touched his cheek: it was like something in a museum. And Romeo's own heart went cold inside his chest.

He thought, I should close his eyes, shouldn't I? That would be the proper thing to do. But which eye first? He chose the right. He tried forcing down the lid with his thumb, but it slipped free and sprang open again and his thumb skidded onto the cold vitreous humor - the iris rolling away, averting its gaze from a botched job.

Oh. f.u.c.ked this up. I'm sorry, Claude.

Shaw was astonished, when they got back to the house, by the increase in his flock. Cars were parked along the curb of Redwood Road nearly as far as 17, and on Oriole Road two police cruisers had their roof lights flashing. The pilgrims were cheering and waving palmetto fronds. Some of them had come in RVs and had brought kids and dogs and Frisbees. Some seemed to be derelicts. They showed the black roots of their molars when they grinned. was astonished, when they got back to the house, by the increase in his flock. Cars were parked along the curb of Redwood Road nearly as far as 17, and on Oriole Road two police cruisers had their roof lights flashing. The pilgrims were cheering and waving palmetto fronds. Some of them had come in RVs and had brought kids and dogs and Frisbees. Some seemed to be derelicts. They showed the black roots of their molars when they grinned.

Trevor's crew of bodyguards held the crowd back as Shaw and the Boatwrights emerged from the Liberty.

Shaw murmured to Trevor, "Too many."

Trevor nodded. "I paid off the neighbors for tonight. Tomorrow we go to the fairgrounds."

An old woman reached between two bodyguards and touched Shaw's shoulder, crying, "Father! Help me! Father!" She was tiny and frail, but she wouldn't be denied, and finally he made a sign to the bodyguards: let her approach.

"Father," she said, "can you heal the sick?"

"Who's sick? Not you."

"My husband." She clutched his sleeve, pulling at him. "Please, Father."

He let her lead. The crowd eddied and purled around them. She brought him to the end of the driveway, to an old man sitting in a wheelchair, who cast a skeptical eye as Shaw approached.

All I need to do, Shaw thought, is use the power that's already here.

He asked the man, "What's your name?"

"Bill Phillips."

"And why are you crippled?"

"RSD. Ever heard of it?"

"Tell me."

"Reflex sympathetic dystrophy."

"You're in pain?"

"Oh, yeah. Around my knee here. So much pain I can't use the leg."

Shaw said, "But that's not the pain you need to be awakened from. What you need to be awakened from is this dream of life. You understand this?"

Bill Phillips squinted at him. The crowd had fallen silent. A TV camera whirred, in harmony with the crickets, and cell phone flashes reflected off the oak leaves.

Shaw said, "You dream that you're alone in the world. You dream that your Father is not with you. But in truth He's right here beside you, and if you could awaken, you'd see Him as bright as day."

"Right here?" said Bill Phillips. His eyes were tearing up. Soon he began to weep. Shaw set hands upon his withered legs, till the spasms of weeping subsided - then turned from him, and walked toward the house, and the crowd parted so he could pa.s.s.

Romeo went out looking for Wynetta, to give her the news. One redneck dive after another: Duke's, the Oleander Inn, some nameless cinderblock bar out by the airport. But she wasn't to be found. He even tried a t.i.tty bar called the "VIP" Lounge in an old brick warehouse downtown. The sign had it just like that, with quotation marks around VIP. She wasn't there, but when Romeo glanced up at the dancer working the pole, he found to his amazement that it was Tess! Tess the missionary girl! Seeing her up there was as disturbing to Romeo as looking up into that wheel well had been. She clomped through her act in black suede boots and a silvery g-string, with her big forehead and the allure of an industrial robot. Luckily she didn't notice him, didn't see him wincing. went out looking for Wynetta, to give her the news. One redneck dive after another: Duke's, the Oleander Inn, some nameless cinderblock bar out by the airport. But she wasn't to be found. He even tried a t.i.tty bar called the "VIP" Lounge in an old brick warehouse downtown. The sign had it just like that, with quotation marks around VIP. She wasn't there, but when Romeo glanced up at the dancer working the pole, he found to his amazement that it was Tess! Tess the missionary girl! Seeing her up there was as disturbing to Romeo as looking up into that wheel well had been. She clomped through her act in black suede boots and a silvery g-string, with her big forehead and the allure of an industrial robot. Luckily she didn't notice him, didn't see him wincing.

But when her song was done, and she came trolling for a "VIP" lap to fill, she recognized him - and broke into a wide grin. "Romeo!"

"Hey, Tess."

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you you doing here?" doing here?"

She shrugged. "Paying my rent."

She took the stool next to him. The bartender was a dour old d.y.k.e. Romeo bought Tess a drink and asked her, "What happened to the missionary deal?"

"Oh. Guy who sent us? Kind of flaked."

"And the other girl?"

"Megan? She's working at the bag plant. Up in Darien. Last I heard."

"Sounds f.u.c.ked," said Romeo.

"Yeah."

"You still love that guy who hangs people on hooks?"

"Sort of. But he don't love me back so forget it."

They were watching the next dancer, who wasn't any golden beauty either, but at least her performance made a stab at coyness and come-hither.

Tess asked him, "So how's your vacation going, Romeo?"

He shook his head. "Not so good. My friend just died on me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That guy, the one I met?"

"Uh-uh. Old dude. Lived in a trailer. Old fisherman."

"Oh."

"His grandfather was an old fisherman too. His grandfather used to call him the little rooster."

She smiled. "Really?"

"I was taking care of him. Do you know Balm-of-Gilead Road?"

"Yes!" she said. "We witnessed out there."

"Find any converts?"

"You gotta be joking."

The DJ said: "Frankie, to the stage."

"Well, that's me."

He said, "That's like your dancing name? Frankie?"

"It's short for Frankenstein. I make 'em use it. It's my nickname from back home. They don't want me to use it, but I tell 'em I'm not gonna be your d.a.m.n Tabitha or Crystal or Char-maigne, you know? I gotta go now. Wait for me?"

"I wish I could."

However, he did take a five-dollar bill from his wallet, folded it lengthwise, and when she held her garter open he placed it in the s.p.a.ce provided. That small transaction occurred between them; then he went.

Back on the road, he remembered that Wynetta had mentioned some bar she liked out on Rt. 341. He couldn't quite remember the name. Some kind of bird name. He drove out there anyway. Rt. 341 was dark for a long time, then came the blindingness of the lights around the State Police Barracks, then darkness again. Finally he saw a dismal neon sign: Pigeon's, with a dismal tavern beneath it. And there was Wynetta's truck sitting in the lot.

He parked and lowered his seat and waited for her.

One by one, drunks came two-stepping out. Driving off.

Finally, here was Wynetta on the arm of some turkey-neck codger who leaned her up against her car and started s.e.xing her. Trying to fit his hand down between her tight belt and her fat belly, and he had to bend his elbow like he was bowling. After a minute he seemed to have taken his fill of this awkwardness: he pulled his hand free and gave her belly a pat and staggered away.

Wynetta called names after him but he was done. He drove off in his pickup.

Then Romeo got out of the Tercel. "Hi, Wynetta."

She was confused. Trying to recall how she knew him. Was he a former boyfriend? Cop or something? But the gears turned slowly.

He said, "There's a problem about your dad."

Now it came. "Oh s.h.i.t. The f.u.c.king. The fake nurse. Get away from me. I scream, the goons will be in your face in ten seconds."

He said, "I just want -"

"In your face! In your face!"

"All right. I just want to tell you about your dad."

"What about my dad?"

"He's dead."

"What?"

He wasn't going to say it twice. "I'll give you a ride home."

"I got my truck," she said. "Did you say my daddy's dead?"

"Better let me take you."

She shrugged. He escorted her to the Tercel and they drove back down Rt. 341.

She said, "How do you know my daddy's dead?"

"I went to see him."

"Oh," she said.

More dark road went by. She said, "You didn't drink all the PBRs, did you?"

What a piece of work, thought Romeo. "There are no PBRs. The PBRs are all gone."

"You drank them?"

"No, you drank them, Wynetta."

"I didn't drink 'em all all."

"OK," he said. "What's your point?"

"My point? My point is, you took something that wasn't yours."

It stressed him to be sharing his car with this callous vacant alcoholic middle-aged brat. She had made Claude's last days on earth such a living h.e.l.l he had begged a stranger to set him free. She'd done that to Claude! Romeo hadn't felt such a purity of disgust in a long time.

He wondered, can I make something of this?

Wynetta was still whining: "Take me to Lonnie's? Lonnie'll loan me a sixpack."

"It's pretty late."

"I'll wake him up. When I tell him my daddy's dead, I bet he'll let me have one beer from his precious stash."

Romeo said, "No, I'm taking you to your father's."

"Why? To see him dead? I don't want want to see him dead." to see him dead."

They turned onto Balm-of-Gilead Road.

She said, "It's not something I care to enjoy."

Concentrate on the indecency of her indifference, thought Romeo, and the horror of her breath, and the sadness of this road. Think about all these things at the same time and see how much anger you can scare up.