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 Carmen, wait a second. I have to tell you something. That man who was here, he's an agent of some
kind. He's after Saul. You have to warn him.
 We already know, Carmen said.  Open up, you're almost done.
She swallowed, then shook her head when he offered another spoonful.  You know?
 Not who he's working for. But it's been pretty obvious that there are people watching us.
Lyle felt childishly disappointed, as if she had run a mile to warn of robbers only to find them already
safely locked up.
Carmen looked at his watch, then said,  Now a hot bath for you, and then bed. Hold up your foot.
He pulled her boots off, as he had done another night, she remembered. She had forgotten that night.
Again it alarmed her that she was not more fearful of the lapse, not at all fearful about it, in fact. He met
her gaze and his face was somber.
 You'll gradually remember it all now. By morning when you wake up, it will all be there waiting for you
to examine. You're not afraid?
She shook her head.
 Good. I'll go fix the bath for you.
A few minutes later he said, at her bedroom door,  Yell when you get in bed. I'll tuck you in. His grin
was back; he looked like a precocious child enjoying enormously this reversal of roles.
She didn't dare remain in the tub more than a few minutes; she had become so relaxed that she feared
falling asleep and sinking forever under the water. Regretfully she got out, toweled herself, rubbed her
hair briskly, and pulled on her gown. She was as eager now to be in bed as she had been to be in the
tub. When she called Carmen her eyes were too heavy to keep them open. She was in a time-distorting
presleep state that made it seem to take him a very long time to get to the bed, but when he was there,
his voice close to her, she was startled that he had arrived so quickly.
 You're going to sleep like a baby, he murmured, and touched her shoulder lightly, drew the cover up
closer to her neck.  You won't hear anything at all until morning. I'll be here tonight, no one will come in
to bother you. Good night, Lyle. He kissed her forehead. She slept.
* * * *
Driving the motor home at any time was difficult for Lasater, who had never driven anything like it before
this trip. He had trouble getting used to the rearview mirrors, which more often than not seemed focused
on the sides of the monster itself instead of the road. And he did not like the feel of it on the highway; it
was too high, the weight was in the wrong place, it felt skittery if there was a glaze of ice or a slick of
water on the road, and that night fog was freezing to form black ice. He feared black ice more than an ice
storm, because it was invisible; it formed in one place but not another that was equally exposed. The
road surface of the bridge was already covered, and he skidded alarmingly. He shifted gears and slowed
down even more, wondering if he would be able to pull the grade up to the top of the hill between here
and the lagoon.
He had passed Werther's driveway and was starting up the hill, when he heard a car engine roaring
somewhere in the fog. His first thought was that it was an idiot speeding on the coast road, driving blind.
Then he heard a crash, and he knew someone had gone off the cliffs behind him. He yanked on the brake
and got out, ran back on the white line at the edge of the road.
 Turk? he called.  What the hell's going on?
 Mr. Lasater? Where are you?
The fog scrambled directional signals; it was impossible to say where any sound originated. Only the surf
remained constant, and it was everywhere.
 Hey! Turk yelled then.  Stop, where you think you're going?
 Get out of the way! I'm going down to find him. Carmen's voice.
Lasater crossed the road; he could hear scuffling sounds now, then a sharp exclamation followed by
harsh cursing.
 Turk, what's happening? he called again.
 The old guy came down like a bat outta hell, picking up speed all the way, didn't even try to stop, but
straight through and over the cliff. The kid's just gone down the trail. Must have radar.
 Call Follett. Tell him to meet you at Werther's house and give it a good dusting. Give me your flashlight.
I'm going down there.
Turk began to signal to Milton Follett, then said softly,  Jesus H. Christ! Look!
Up the hillside the fog was lighted from within as if by volcanic fumes. There was a glow in the form of a
mammoth aureole.
 That bastard! That goddamned fucking bastard, Lasater muttered.  Get up there with Follett, see if
anything's left. He snatched the flashlight from Turk and looked for the trail down to the beach.
* * * *
By midnight the fire had burned itself out; the woods had not ignited; they were too wet and the moist fog
had acted as a damper. The house had burned thoroughly, down to the foundation stones. Carmen sat
huddled in a blanket near the stove in Lyle's house, his clothes drying on chairs. Lasater sat on the couch
staring moodily at the exhausted boy, who had tried to find the car for over an hour until, retching and
gagging, he had staggered from the pounding surf into Lasater's arms. The police had come and gone;
they would be back at daybreak to look for the car and the body. Accidental death, they said.
Except, Lasater thought coldly, no one was dead yet. He did not believe Werther had been in the car
when it went over the cliff, no matter what Turk thought he saw. Werther had to be waiting somewhere
nearby, freezing his balls off in the woods, waiting for the coast to clear enough to show up here at this
house. Taney wasn't out of it yet. Werther must be planning to use her to get him out of here.
Lasater slept on the couch that night; Carmen rolled up in the blanket and slept on the floor. At dawn he
was up cleaning Taney's car with Lasater watching every movement, thinking she was more of a pig than
he had realized. Carmen made coffee then, and presently said he was going shopping and would be
happy to drop Lasater off at the park. When they went out, the trunk lid was still raised, airing out, and
the back doors were open. Lasater felt a cold fury when the thought came to him that the boy was
playing games with him, demonstrating that he was not hauling Werther out of the woods that morning.
* * * *
Lyle awakened slowly, first semi-aware that she was in her own bed again, that she was warm and dry
and comfortable, and hungry; and slowly she began to remember the two evenings she had spent at
Saul's house. She sat upright and pulled the blanket around her.
All those questions! He had examined her as thoroughly as any medical doctor had ever done. And she
had permitted it! She closed her eyes hard, remembering. He had said she was to feel no fear or
embarrassment, and she had felt neither; it had seemed the most natural thing in the world. She was
startled by the memory of telling him all about Lasater, her involvement with him. Saul had known since
that first night, and still had treated her with kindness and even love. The second night swam up in her
consciousness and she shook her head almost in disbelief. He had injected her with something, and the
rest of the night he had monitored her closely, her temperature, her pulse, her heart ... She looked at her
finger; he had taken a blood sample. Except for the physical examination, which had taken place in the
bedroom, Carmen had watched it all, had participated.
As she remembered both evenings, snatches of conversations came back to her; they had talked [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]