Bag of Bones CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I reached for Ki with the part of my mind that had for the uttermost(a) few weeks k right a personal mannern what she was wearing, what room of the trailer she was in, and what she was doing in that respect. in that location was nonhing, of pass that link was also dissolved.I c every(prenominal)ed for Jo I think I did provided Jo was g atomic number 53, too. I was on my hold. god help me. God help us both. I could feel panic trying to descend and fought it off. I had to keep my mind clear. If I couldnt think, any chance Ki cleverness save hold would be lost. I walked rapidly back galvanic pile the hall to the foyer, trying not to envision the sick persona in the back of my channelize, the single saying that Ki was lost already, dead already. I knew no such(prenominal) thing, couldnt know it now that the connection between us was broken.I looked down at the heap of books, accordingly up at the door. The new tracks had keep abreast in this appearance and g un emb roilchable bug step up this way, too. Lightning diagonald the toss away and roaring cracked. The wind was rising again. I went to the door, reached for the knob, then paused. Something was caught in the crack between the door and the jamb, any(prenominal)whatthing as handsome and floaty as a strand of spiders silk.A single white hair.I looked at it with a sick lack of surprise. I should have known, of course, and if not for the strain Id been at a lower place(a) and the successive shocks of this terrible day, I would have known. It was all on the tape John had played for me that morning . . . a clip that already expected part of anformer(a) mans life.For unmatchable thing, in that location was the time-check marking the point where John had hung up on her. Nine- cardinal A.M., easterly Daylight, the robot vo starter had said, which meant that Rogette had been calling at six-forty in the morning . . . if, that was, shed really been calling from Palm Springs. That was at least possible had the oddity occurred to me while we were driving from the airport to Matties trailer, I would have told myself that on that point were no doubt insomniacs all over California who finished their East Coast business before the sunshine had hauled itself fully over the horizon, and dev turn out for them. unless there was something else that couldnt be explained away so easily.At i point John had ejected the tape. He did it because, he said, Id g unmatched as white as a saddlery instead of looking amused. I had told him to go on and play the rest it had honest surprised me to hear her again. The quality of her voice. Christ, the reproduction is good. Except it was really the boys in the basement who had reacted to Johns tape my subconscious co-conspirators. And it hadnt been her voice that had panic-struck them badly enough to turn my saying white. The underhum had done that. The characteristic underhum you always got on TR calls, both those you do and those you received.Rogette Whitto a greater extent had n ever so left TR-90 at all. If my failing to realize that this morning cost Ki Devore her life this after(prenominal)noon, I wouldnt be competent to live with myself. I told God that over and over as I went plunging down the railroad-tie whole steps again, running into the face of a revitalized storm.Its a forbidding-eyed wonder I didnt go flying right off the embankment. Half my swimming float had grounded there, and perhaps I could have impaled myself on its splintered boards and died deal a vampire writhing on a s need. What a pleasant estimate that was. political campaign isnt good for people near panic its like scratching poison ivy. By the time I had thrown my arm nearly one of the pines at the foot of the steps to check my progress, I was on the edge of losing all coherent mind. Kis name was beating in my head again, so loudly there wasnt room for practically else. whence a stroke of lightning leaped out of the sky t o my right and knocked the last threesome feet of trunk out from downstairs a huge old spruce which had probably been here when Sara and Kito were still alive. If Id been looking directly at it I would have been blinded until now with my head turned three-quarters away, the stroke left a huge gloomful swatch like the aftermath of a gigantic camera gilded floating in front of my eyes. There was a grinding, juddering sound as two hundred feet of blue spruce crownpled into the lake, sending up a long curtain of spray, which rendermed to hang between the ancient sky and gray water. The stump was on fire in the rain, burning like a witchs hat.It had the effect of a slap, clearing my head and giving me one final chance to use my brain. I took a breathing time and forced myself to do bonny that. Why had I come down here in the start place? Why did I think Rogette had brought Kyra toward the lake, where I had just been, instead of carrying her away from me, up the highroad to Lan e Forty-two?Dont be stupid. She came down here because The Streets the way back to Warringtons, and Warringtons is where shes been, all by herself, ever since she sent the bosss body back to California in his private jet.She had sneaked into the house while I was under Jos studio, finding the tin box in the belly of the owl and studying that scrap of genealogy. She would have taken Ki then if Id given her the chance, moreover I didnt. I came hurrying back, afraid something was wrong, afraid individual efficacy be trying to get hold of the kid Had Rogette awakened her? Had Ki seen her and tried to reproach me before drifting off again? Was that what had brought me in such a hurry? perhaps. Id still been in the zone then, wed still been linked then. Rogette had certainly been in the house when I came back. She might even have been in the north-bedroom closet and peering at me through the crack. Part of me had known it, too. Part of me had felt her, felt something that was not-Sa ra.Then Id left again. Grabbed the carry-bag from Slips n Greens and come down here. Turned right, turned north. Toward the birch, the rock, the bag of bones. Id done what I had to do, and while I was doing it, Rogette carried Kyra down the railroad-tie steps behind me and turned left on The Street. Turned federationwestward toward Warringtons. With a sinking feeling deep in my belly, I know I had probably comprehend Ki . . . might even have seen her. That bird peeking timidly out from cover during the lull had been no bird. Ki was awake by then, Ki had seen me perhaps had seen Jo, as well and tried to call out. She had managed just that one little peep before Rogette had covered her mouth.How long ago had that been? It seemed like forever, nevertheless I had an idea it hadnt been long at all less than five minutes, maybe. notwithstanding it doesnt take long to overpower a child. The image of Kitos gross(a) arm sticking straight out of the water tried to come back the ha nd at the end of it opening and closing, opening and closing, as if it were trying to breathe for the lungs that couldnt and I pushed it away. I also suppressed the urge to scarcely sprint in the direction of Warringtons. Panic would take me for sure if I did that.In all the years since her death I had never longed for Jo with the bitter effectiveness I felt then. But she was gone there wasnt even a whisper of her. With no one to depend on moreover myself, I started south on the tree-littered Street, skirting the blowdowns where I could, crawlinging under them if they blocked my way entirely, taking the noisy branch-breaking course over the top that as a last resort. As I went I issued what I imagine are all the standard prayers in such a situation, but none of them seemed to get past the image of Rogette Whitmores face rising in my mind. Her screaming, merciless face.I toy with thinking This is the outdoor version of the Ghost House. Certainly the woods seemed haunt to me a s I struggled along trees just loosened in the first grand blow were fall by the score in this follow-up cap of wind and rain. The noise was like great crunching footfalls, and I didnt need to worry more or less the noise my own feet were making. When I passed the Batchelders camp, a circular prefab social organisation sitting on an outcrop of rock like a hat on a footstool, I apothegm that the entire roof had been bashed flat by a hemlock.Half a mile south of Sara I saw one of Kis white hair ribbons lying in the path. I picked it up, thinking how much that red edging looked like blood. Then I stuffed it into my pocket and went on.Five minutes later I came to an old moss-caked pine that had fallen crossways the path it was still connected to its stump by a stretched and bent network of splinters, and squalled like a line of rusty hinges as the surge water displace and dropped what had been its upper twenty or thirty feet, now floating in the lake. There was space to crawl un der, and when I dropped to my knees I saw separate knee-tracks, just beginning to fill with water. I saw something else the south hair ribbon. I tucked it into my pocket with the first.I was halfway under the pine when I comprehend another tree go over, this one much closer. The sound was followed by a scream not pain or fear but surprised anger. Then, even over the hiss of the rain and the wind, I could hear Rogettes voice grapple back Dont go out there, its dangerousI squirmed the rest of the way under the tree, barely feeling the stump of a branch which tore a groove in my lower back, got to my feet, and sprinted along the path. If the fallen trees I came to were small, I hurdled them without slowing down. If they were boastfulger, I scrabbled over with no thought to where they might claw or dig in. Thunder whacked. There was a brilliant stroke of lightning, and in its glare I saw gray barnboard through the trees. On the day Id first seen Rogette Id only been able to catch glimpses of Warringtons lodge, but now the forest had been lacerate open like an old garment this knowledge domain would be years recovering. The lodges rear half had been sensibly well demolished by a pas de deux of huge trees that seemed to have fallen together. They had crossed like a knife and fork on a diners plate and lay on the ruins in a shaggy X.Kis voice, rising over the storm only because it was shrill with terror Go away I dont fate you, white nana Go away It was fearful to hear the terror in her voice, but wonderful to hear her voice at all.About forty feet from where Rogettes shout had frozen me in place, one more tree lay across the path. Rogette herself stood on the utmost side of it, retentiveness a hand out to Ki. The hand was trickle blood, but I exactly noticed. It was Kyra I noticed. The dock running between The Street and The Sunset Bar was a long one seventy feet at least, perhaps a hundred. Long enough so that on a pretty summer evening you could stroll it hand-in-hand with your date or your lover and imbibe a memory. The storm hadnt torn it away not yet but the wind had twisted it like a ribbon. I remember newsreel footage at some childhood Saturday matinee, film of a suspension bridge dancing in a hurricane, and that was what the dock between Warring-tons and The Sunset Bar looked like. It jounced up and down in the surging water, groaning in all its slatted joints like a wooden accordion. There had been a rail presumably to guide those whod made a heavy night of it safely back to shore but it was gone now. Kyra was halfway out along this swaying, dipping length of wood. I could see at least three rectangles of blackness between the shore and where she stood, places where boards had snapped off. From to a lower place the dock came the disturbed clung-clung-clung of the empty steel drums that were holding it up. Several of these drums had come unanchored and were floating away. Ki had her weapons stretched out for ba lance like a tightrope walker in the circus. The black Harley-Davidson tee-shirt flapped around her knees and sunburned shoulders.Come back Rogette cried. Her lank hair flew around her head the shiny black raincoat she was wearing rippled. She was holding both hands out now, one bloody and one not. I had an idea Ki might have bitten her.No, white nana Ki shook her head in wild negation and I wanted to recite her dont do that, Ki-bird, dont shake your head like that, very bad idea. She tottered, one arm pointed up at the sky and one down at the water so she looked for a moment like an rag in a steep bank. If the dock had picked that moment to take a hard buck beneath her, Ki would have spilled off the side. She regained some precarious balance instead, although I thought I saw her bare feet s palpebrae a little on the slick boards. Go away, white nana, I dont want you Go . . . go take a nap, you look tiredKi didnt see me all her caution was fixed on the white nana. The white nana didnt see me, either. I dropped to my belly and squirmed under the tree, suck outing myself along with my clawed hands. Thunder rolled across the lake like a big mahogany ball, the sound emit off the mountains. When I got to my knees again, I saw that Rogette was advancing slowly toward the shore end of the dock. For every step she took forward, Kyra took a shaky, dangerous step backward. Rogette was holding her good hand out, though for a moment I thought this one had begun to bleed as well. The stuff running through her practice bundlingy fingers was too unilluminated for blood, however, and when she began to talk, speaking in a hideous coaxing voice that made my skin crawl, I realized it was melting chocolate.Lets play the bet on, Ki-bird, Rogette cooed. Do you want to start? She took a step. Ki took a compensatory step backward, tottered, caught her balance. My watch stopped, then resumed racing. I closed the distance between myself and the woman as rapidly as I could, bu t I didnt run I didnt want her to know a thing until she woke up. If she woke up. I didnt pity if she did or not. Hell, if I could fracture the back of George Footmans skull with a hammer, I could certainly put a distraint on this horror. As I walked, I laced my hands together into one large fist.No? Dont want to start? Too shy? Rogette spoke in a sugary Romper room voice that made me want to grind my teeth together. All right, Ill start. Happy What rhymes with capable, Ki-bird? Pappy . . . and nappy . . . you were taking a nappy, werent you, when I came and woke you up. And lappy . . . would you want to come and sit on my lappy, Ki-bird? Well feed each other chocolate, just like we used to . . . Ill speciate you a new knock-knock joke . . . Another step. She had come to the edge of the dock. If shed thought of it, she could simply have thrown rocks at Kyra as she had at me, thrown until she connected with one and knocked Ki into the lake. But I dont think she got even close to such a notion. Once crazy goes past a certain point, youre on a turnpike with no exit ramps. Rogette had other plans for Kyra.Come on, Ki-Ki, play the game with white nana. She held out the chocolate again, gooey Hersheys Kisses dripping through crumpled foil. Kyras eyes shifted, and at last she saw me. I shook my head, trying to tell her to be quiet, but it was no good an grammatical construction of joyous relief crossed her face. She cried out my name, and I saw Rogettes shoulders go up in surprise.I ran the last dozen feet, raising my joined hands like a club, but I slipped a little on the wet ground at the crucial moment and Rogette made a tolerant of ducking cringe. Instead of striking her at the back of the neck as Id meant to, my joined hands only glanced off her shoulder. She staggered, went to one knee, and was up again almost at once. Her eyes were like little blue arc-lamps, spitting rage instead of electricity. You she said, hissing the word over the top of her tongu e, turning it into the sound of some ancient curse Heeyuuuu Behind us Kyra screamed my name, stagger-dancing on the wet wood and waving her arms in an try to keep from falling in the lake. Water slopped onto the deck and ran over her small bare feet.Hold on, Ki I called back. Rogette saw my attention shift and took her chance she spun and ran out onto the dock. I sprang after her, grabbed her by the hair, and it came off in my hand. All of it. I stood there at the edge of the surging lake with her mat of white hair dangling from my fist like a scalp.Rogette looked over her shoulder, snarling, an ancient bald nanus in the rain, and I thought Its him, its Devore, he never died at all, somehow he and the woman swapped identities, she was the one who committed suicide, it was her body that went back to California on the jet Even as she turned the other way again and began to run toward Ki, I knew better. It was Rogette, all right, but shed come by that hideous affinity honestly. Wha tever was wrong with her had done more than make her hair fall out it had aged her as well. Seventy, Id thought, but that had to be at least ten years beyond the actual mark.Ive known a lot of folks name their kids alike, Mrs M. had told me. They think its cute. Max Devore must have thought so, too, because he had named a son Roger and his daughter Rogette. Perhaps shed come by the Whitmore part honestly she might have been espouse in her younger years but once the wig was gone, her antecedents were beyond argument. The woman tottering along the wet dock to finish the job was Kyras aunt.Ki began to back up rapidly, making no effort to be careful and pick her footing. She was waiver into the drink there was no way she could stay up. But before she could fall, a undulation slapped the dock between them at a place where some of the place had come loose and the slatted walkway was already partly submerged. Foamy water flew up and began to twist into one of those helix shapes I had seen before. Rogette stopped ankle-deep in the water sloshing over the dock, and I stopped about twelve feet behind her.The shape solidified, and even before I could make out the face I recognized the baggy shorts with their fade swirls of color and the smock top. Only Kmart sells smock tops of such perfect shapelessness I think it may be a federal law.It was Mattie. A grave gray Mattie, looking at Rogette with grave gray eyes. Rogette raised her hands, tottered, tried to turn. At that moment a coil surged under the dock, making it rise and then drop like an amusement-park ride. Rogette went over the side. Beyond her, beyond the water-shape in the rain, I could see Ki sprawling on the porch of The Sunset Bar. That last heave had flipped her to temporary rubber eraser like a human tiddlywink.Mattie was looking at me, her lips moving, her eyes on mine. I had been able to tell what Jo was saying, but this time I had no idea. I tried with all my might, but I couldnt make it out.Momm y MommyThe figure didnt so much turn as revolve it didnt actually seem to be there below the hem of the long shorts. It moved up the dock to the bar, where Ki was now standing with her arms held out.Something grabbed at my foot.I looked down and saw a drowning apparition in the surging water. Dark eyes stared up at me from beneath the bald skull. Rogette was coughing water from between lips that were as purple as plums. Her free hand waved weakly up at me. The fingers opened . . . and closed. Opened . . . and closed. I dropped to one knee and took it. It clamped over mine like a steel claw and she yanked, trying to pull me in with her. The purple lips peeled back from yellow toothpegs like those in Saras skull. And yes I thought that this time Rogette was the one laughing.I rocked on my haunches and yanked her up. I didnt think about it it was pure instinct. I had her by at least a hundred pounds, and three quarters of her came out of the lake like a gigantic, freakish trout. She screamed, darted her head forward, and buried her teeth in my wrist. The pain was immediate and enormous. I jerked my arm up even high and then brought it down, not thinking about hurting her, wanting only to rid myself of that weasels mouth. Another wave hit the half-submerged dock as I did. Its rising, splintered edge impaled Rogettes descending face. One eye popped a dripping yellow splinter ran up her nose like a dagger the scant skin of her supercilium split, snapping away from the bone like two suddenly released windowshades. Then the lake pulled her away. I saw the torn topography of her face a moment longer, upturned into the torrential rain, wet and as pale as the light from a fluorescent bar. Then she rolled over, her black vinyl raincoat swirling around her like a shroud.What I saw when I looked back toward The Sunset Bar was another glimpse under the skin of this world, but one remote different from the face of Sara in the Green Lady or the snarling, half-glimpsed sha pe of the Outsider. Kyra stood on the wide wooden porch in front of the bar amid a litter of overturned wicker furniture. In front of her was a waterspout in which I could still see very faintly the fading shape of a woman. She was on her knees, holding her arms out.They tried to embrace. Kis arms went through Mattie and came out dripping. Mommy, I cant get youThe woman in the water was speaking I could see her lips moving. Ki looked at her, rapt. Then, for just a moment Mattie turned to me. Our eyes met, and hers were made of the lake. They were Dark Score, which was here long before I came and will remain long after I am gone. I put my hands to my mouth, kissed my palms, and held them out to her. Shimmery hands went up, as if to catch those kisses.Mommy dont go Kyra screamed, and flung her arms around the figure. She was immediately drenched in and backed away with her eyes squinched shut, coughing. There was no longer a woman with her there was only water running across the bo ards and dripping through the cracks to rejoin the lake, which comes up from deep springs far below, from the fissures in the rock which underlies the TR and all this part of our world.Moving carefully, doing my own balancing act, I made my way out along the wavering dock to The Sunset Bar. When I got there I took Kyra in my arms. She hugged me tight, rickety fiercely against me. I could hear the small dicecup rattle of her teeth and smell the lake in her hair.Mattie came, she said.I know. I saw her.Mattie made the white nana go away.I saw that, too. Be very still now, Ki. Were going back to solid ground, but you cant move around a lot. If you do, well end up swimming.She was good as gold. When we were on The Street again and I tried to put her down, she clung to my neck fiercely. That was okay with me. I thought of taking her into Warringtons, but didnt. There would be towels in there, probably dry clothes as well, but I had an idea there might also be a bathtub full of potent wa ter waiting in there. Besides, the rain was slackening again and this time the sky looked lighter in the west.What did Mattie tell you, hon? I asked as we walked north along The Street. Ki would let me put her down so we could crawl under the downed trees we came to, but raised her arms to be picked up again on the far side of each. To be a good girl and not be sad. But I am sad. Im very sad. She began to cry, and I stroked her wet hair.By the time we got to the railroad-tie steps she had cried herself out . . . and over the mountains in the west, I could see one small but very brilliant wedge of blue.All the woods sink down, Ki said, looking around. Her eyes were very wide.Well . . . not all, but a lot of them, I guess.Halfway up the steps I paused, puffing and seriously winded. I didnt ask Ki if I could put her down, though. I didnt want to put her down. I just wanted to catch my breath.Mike?What, skirt?Mattie told me something else.What?Can I whisper?If you want to, sure.Ki lea ned close, put her lips to my ear, and whispered.I listened. When she was done I nodded, kissed her cheek, shifted her to the other hip, and carried her the rest of the way up to the house.Twasnt the stawm of the century, chummy, and dont you go thinkin that it was. Nossir.So said the old-timers who sat in front of the big Army medics tent that served as the Lakeview General that late summer and fall. A huge elm had toppled across Route 68 and bashed the store in like a Saltines box. Adding injury to insult, the elm had carried a bunch of spitting live lines with it. They ignited propane from a ruptured tank, and the whole thing went kaboom. The tent was a pretty good warm-weather substitute, though, and folks on the TR took to saying they was going down to the MASH for bread and beer this because you could still see a faded red cross on both sides of the tents roof.The old-timers sat along one canvas rampart in folding chairs, waving to other old-timers when they went pooting by i n their rusty old-timer cars (all certified old-timers own either Fords or Chevys, so Im well on my way in that regard), swapping their undershirts for flannels as the days began to collected toward cider season and spud-digging, watching the township start to rebuild itself around them. And as they watched they talked about the ice storm of the past winter, the one that knocked out lights and splintered a million trees between Kittery and Fort Kent they talked about the cyclones that moved(p) down in August of 1985 they talked about the sleet hurricane of 1927. Now there was some stawms, they said. There was some stawms, by Gorry.Im sure theyve got a point, and I dont argue with them you rarely win an argument with a documented Yankee old-timer, never if its about the weather but for me the storm of July 21, 1998, will always be the storm. And I know a little girl who feels the very(prenominal). She may live until 2100, given all the benefits of modern medicine, but I think t hat for Kyra Elizabeth Devore that will always be the storm. The one where her dead mother came to her dressed in the lake.The first vehicle to come down my driveway didnt arrive until almost six oclock. It turned out to be not a Castle County police car but a yellow bucket-loader with heartbeat yellow lights on top of the cab and a guy in a Central Maine world-beater Company slicker working the controls. The guy in the other seat was a cop, though was in fact Norris Ridgewick, the County Sheriff himself. And he came to my door with his gun drawn.The change in the weather the TV guy had promised had already arrived, clouds and storm-cells driven east by a chilly wind running just under gale force. Trees had continue to fall in the dripping woods for at least an hour after the rain stopped. virtually five oclock I made us toasted-cheese sandwiches and tomato soup . . . comfort food, Jo would have called it. Kyra ate listlessly, but she did eat, and she drank a lot of milk. I had wrapped her in another of my tee-shirts and she tied her own hair back. I offered her the white ribbons, but she shook her head decisively and opted for a rubber band instead. I dont like those ribbons anymore, she said. I decided I didnt, either, and threw them away. Ki watched me do it and offered no objection. Then I crossed the sustainment room to the woodstove.What are you doing? She finished her second glass of milk, wriggled off her chair, and came over to me.Making a fire. Maybe all those hot days thinned my blood. Thats what my mom would have said, anyway.She watched silently as I pulled sheet after sheet from the pile of paper Id taken off the table and stacked on top of the woodstove, balled each one up, and slipped it in through the door. When I felt Id loaded enough, I began to lay bits of heart on top.Whats written on those papers? Ki asked.Nothing important.Is it a story?Not really. It was more like . . . oh, I dont know. A crossword puzzle. Or a letter.Pretty long letter, she said, and then fixed her head against my leg as if she were tired.Yeah, I said. Love letters usually are, but keeping them around is a bad idea.Why?Because they . . . Can come back to haunt you was what rose to mind, but I wouldnt say it. Because they can embarrass you in later life.Oh.Besides, I said. These papers are like your ribbons, in a way.You dont like them anymore.Right.She saw the box then the tin box with JOS NOTIONS written on the front. It was on the counter between the living room and the sink, not far from where old Krazy Kat had hung on the wall. I didnt remember bringing the box up from the studio with me, but I suppose I might not have I was pretty freaked. I also think it could have come up . . . kind of by itself. I do believe such things now I have undercoat to.Kyras eyes lit up in a way they hadnt since she had wakened from her short nap to find out her mother was dead. She stood on tiptoe to take hold of the box, then ran her small fingers acro ss the gilt letters. I thought about how important it was for a kid to own a tin box. You had to have one for your secret stuff the best toy, the prettiest bit of lace, the first piece of jewelry. Or a picture of your mother, perhaps.This is so . . . pretty, she said in a soft, awed voice.You can have it if you dont mind it saying JOS NOTIONS instead of KIS NOTIONS. There are some papers in it I want to read, but I could put them someplace else.She looked at me to make sure I wasnt kidding, saw I wasnt.Id love it, she said in the same soft, awed voice.I took the box from her, scooped out the steno books, notes, and clippings, then handed it back to Ki. She practiced taking the lid off and then putting it back on.Guess what Ill put in here, she said.Secret treasures?Yes she said, and actually smiled for a moment. Who was Jo, Mike? Do I know her? I do, dont I? She was one of the fridgearator people.She A thought occurred. I shuffled through the yellowed clippings. Nothing. I though t Id lost it somewhere along the way, then saw a corner of what I was looking for peeking from the middle of one of the steno notebooks. I slid it out and handed it to Ki.What is it?A rearwards photo. Hold it up to the light.She did, and looked for a long time, rapt. Faint as a dream I could see my wife in her hand, my wife standing on the swimming float in her two-piece suit.Thats Jo, I said.Shes pretty. Im glad to have her box for my things.I am too, Ki. I kissed the top of her head.When Sheriff Ridgewick hammered on the door, I thought it wise to answer with my hands up. He looked wired. What seemed to ease the situation was a simple, uncalculated question.Wheres Alan Pangborn these days, Sheriff?Over rising Hampshire, Ridgewick said, lowering his pistol a little (a minute or two later he holstered it without even seeming to be aware he had done so). He and Polly are doing real well. Except for her arthritis. Thats nasty, I guess, but she still has her good days. A person can g o along quite awhile if they get a good day every once and again, thats what I think. Mr. Noonan, I have a lot of questions for you. You know that, dont you?Yes.First off and most important, do you have the child? Kyra Devore?Yes.Where is she?Ill be happy to show you.We walked down the north-wing corridor and stood just outside the bedroom doorway, looking in. The duvet was pulled up to her chin and she was quiescency deeply. The stuffed dog was curled in one hand we could just see its muddy tail dawdler out of her fist at one end and its nose poking out at the other. We stood there for a long time, neither of us saying anything, watching her sleep in the light of a summer evening. In the woods the trees had stopped falling, but the wind still blew. Around the eaves of Sara Laughs it made a sound like ancient music.