"Yes."

"I think you better get Claude as soon as you can," says Lucy.

"I will."

"I mean it. It is serious, I think."

"I will."

13. AFTER MAKING THE phone call, I wait in my car for Chandra. I can see a stretch of highway. It is getting on to early dusk. Lucy and the children take a long time in Popeyes. There are some tiny yellow birds high in the live oak. The last of the sunlight catches them. They blaze like fireflies in the dark rooms of the oak.

Lucy comes out at the same time Chandra drives up in her WOW-TV car. Tommy and Margaret are glad to see Chandra and like the idea of getting in a TV car.

Chandra relays my medical calls, briskly, efficiently. I thank her and tell her I will call her later. She looks at me round-eyed and alert. There's something going on, isn't there, she seems to say, head cocked, but I'll go along with it.

I can count on her.

Lucy is waiting for me in the Caprice. I get in front at the wheel.

Lucy looks at her watch. "Let's get over to Pantherburn right away. I'll leave the truck."

"Why?"

"I want a word with you on the way."

"Maybe you'd better take the truck. I'll be there later."

She sits up and turns around to face me. "What do you mean, later?"

"I have a call to make. Then I'll come over."

"A call! What do you mean a call?"

"It's a medical emergency. There is something wrong with Father Smith. His friend Milton Guidry has been calling me all day. Chandra took the message. He thinks Father Smith is dying. I have no choice."

"For God's sake. I mean, my stars, what can you-Look, Tom, I-I'm afraid. Don't go. Look, wouldn't it be better for Father Smith if we called an ambulance and got him to the emergency room?"

"I'll be going along." The shaft of sunlight turns off in the oak like a light in a room. "This won't take long. I'll call you in an hour."

Lucy peers at me. "What's the matter with you? Are you sleepy?"

"No."

"Don't you know they can't afford to have you on the loose?"

"Who? Oh yes. Don't worry."

Silence. There's a clatter of pots from Popeyes. Lucy sinks back, hands shoved into the pockets of her lab coat, into the already sunken Chevy seat. It would be difficult for anyone to see us, or even the car, from the highway.

"What about Belle Ame?" she asks presently.

"What about it?"

"What are you going to do about it?"

"You're the public-health officer. What are you going to do about it?"

"I somehow have the feeling it's up to you."

"First, I'm going to get Claude. Tonight."

"I can send Vergil for him," says Lucy quickly. "There's no immediate worry."

"Why is that?"

"I learned from Margaret-what a dear!-that he really did go to Baton Rouge for a soccer game. She saw him leave on the bus. He's okay. We can go get him later tonight."

I don't reply.

Again she's up and turned around and looking back at me. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

"You're acting strange."

"Is that all you have to say?"

She's nodding. "Yeah. What are we going to do about Belle Ame?"

"You saw the children."

"You want to know what I think?"

"What?"

"I don't think Van Dorn even knew about it."

I am silent.

"Well?" she says.

"Well what?"

"What are you going to do?"

I am gazing at her. "What do you suggest?"

"I think we've got some sickos out there. I think they're in need of drastic treatment. What do you think?" She shakes me. "Well?"

"Right. We'll treat them. Starting tomorrow. We're going to the sheriff. You're going to report your findings and we're going to close them down. To begin with."

"Okay, Tom, okay. I'm on your side, remember."

"I have to go."

"Tom." She puts a hand on my arm.

"Yes?"

If you don't come back with me now, they're going to be looking for you on the road."

"How do you know?"

She takes hold of my arm. "I called Carrie while the children were eating. Max and Comeaux are there. Waiting for you."

It is dusk-dark. A van passes on the road. Its headlights are on.

"Tom, listen! I think they know."

"I see."

"They can't afford to have you on the loose. Not now. If you don't come back with me, they'll be looking for you."

"Did you tell them I was here?"

"No. I told them you were coming from your office."

"Good. Don't worry about it. I know the roads around here and they don't. And they don't know where I'm going. Tell them the truth. I'm making a call."

"Tom, Max is on your side."

"Good."

"I don't know about Comeaux."

"Maybe you'd better go along now. May I borrow your bag?"

"What?"

"Your medical bag."

"Oh, sure." She turns to me, puts both hands on my arm, squeezes hard. "May I say one thing before you leave?"

"Sure."

"Two things. Here they are. First, Max and I agree on this. You ought to take Comeaux up on his job offer. Okay, so he's an asshole. But your best chance to change the system is to work within the system. Max's words! You and Max can be very effective. He needs you. And it will free you up for research. And guess what? Max wants you to move your office to his at Northshore Tulane and practice together. You both need each other. You belong in a research-academic setting, not in that jerkwater town. Max is worried about you, Tom."

She pauses, eyes on my face. I am watching the highway.

"Okay, Tom. Number two, and I'm going to tell it like it is. Ellen is in trouble, Tom. You know that. Max took it upon himself to tell me that he's seeing her professionally. He could not break confidentiality, but I did gather that he thought there was not much future in your and Ellen's relationship. I'm sorry. Ellen is a remarkable, gifted woman and we're all devoted to her, but she needs all the help she can get. I'm telling it like it is, whether you like it or not. Max of course thinks you're some kind of genius and that you've done remarkably well, but that you need a little space just now. What do I think? I'll tell you what I think. I think first of your kids-God, they're lovely kids, and believe me they're okay-ain't nothing wrong with those kids! So Max and I want the best for you and yours, but I've got news for you. I want something else. I want you around. I'm a selfish woman and I need-Sh!" She puts a finger to my lips. "All right. You better come on out to Panther- burn tonight."

She grabs my arm.

"What?" I look at her.

She's smiling.

"I think all of you better come on out to Pantherburn tonight."

"Well-"

"It seems natural, Tom."

"Well-"

"Like last night." She's smiling but serious.

"All right."

She touches my lips. "Don't say anything. You'd better get going. Be careful. Just be sure you get back to Pantherburn tonight. Your room is ready. Those guys mean business, Tom-I mean Comeaux and company. They're vulnerable and they don't know what you're going to do. Now get going. It'll soon be dark."

Dark is what I'm waiting for.

14. I TAKE OLD La. 963 through Slaughter, Olive Branch, through St. Helena Parish, past the Fluker fire tower, over I-55 and into the piney woods, to Waldheim and the old fire-tower road to St. Margaret's. Not a car in sight until the interstate.

The shed at the foot of the tower is dark. There is a full moon. I cannot make out if there is a light in the tower.

Milton Guidry has come up behind me. Now he too gazes up companionably.

"What's the matter with him, Milton?" I move around so I can see Milton's face in the moonlight.

"He had a spell yesterday and hasn't moved since." Milton describes Father Smith's symptoms in a lively fashion. He is worried, but he is glad to have company and takes pleasure in talking about it. "He is stiff as a board. When I helped him to the commode, his flesh was hard-like. Like that." He raps the shed. "What is that, Doc?"

"What happened? What kind of spell?"

"A spasm-like. He was sitting talking yesterday just as natural as you and me. Then he stopped and his hand went like this." Milton shows me, flexing his arm and curling his hand inward. "Since then he hasn't moved or done anything. I mean nothing." Milton cocks his head and watches me with a pleasant expression.

"What do you mean he hasn't moved?"

"I mean, he hasn't moved. He doesn't eat or drink or say a word."

"Did he fall down?"

"No, he just sits and looks at the woods."

"You mean he sat there at the table all last night and did not lie down in his bedroll?"

"You got it, Doc."