“Tell me about it,” Leonard said. “And he had a bulletproof vest on to boot.”
“You noticed that too,” I said.
“I did,” Leonard said. “For a moment I thought Superman had gone bad, and it was a real relief to discover he was just a man.”
“He was just plenty of man,” I said.
“I hurt all over,” Leonard said. “I feel like I been chewed up by a wolf and shit off a cliff and my pile got stepped on by an elephant.”
“I hear you,” I said. “I’m dizzy and I got a headache and I want my teddy bear. Bastard must have taken something. Some kind of drug. Damned if I know. But I’m going to dream about him, and I’m not going to like it.”
“I used to have a teddy bear,” the girl said out of nowhere. “His name was Lew. I think my momma still has him.”
We let that sail around the car for a moment, then, “Figure guy owns the cabins has already called the law,” Leonard said.
“No,” Tim said. “He said he would be gone a few days. Went off somewhere with his brother. We paid in advance.”
“I hope you left a dead body deposit,” I said.
“We didn’t give our real names. He wrote down our plates, but they’re false. I switched them.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t want to encourage such criminal enterprise as license-plate switching in the young, but let me, at this moment in time, give to you a symbolic high five.”
It was entirely symbolic. Neither of us moved.
Tim said, “So … are you going to hurt us?”
“Nope,” I said. “We already would have if we were. But you got to go back.”
“My dad … he turned himself in.”
“For you. And he’s going to talk to the feds. Putting himself in danger from the Dixie Mafia for one reason and one reason only. You.”
Tim was quiet for a moment, then said, “He’s done some bad things.”
“He has, and I suppose he’s actually going to get away with having done a lot of them if he tells the feds the right things, things they want to know. But there is this. He loves you pretty damn strong to do what he’s doing. Putting himself in danger, maybe going to jail, or having to be in the witness protection program. Something you may have to do too. Thing is, he’s doing what he’s doing for you so you can maybe do something a lot better than he’s done with his life.”
“You think so?”
“I think so.”
“What about me?” the girl said.
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “We’ll figure something out.”
“He just couldn’t stand we were together, her being black.”
“He got over it,” I said. “He only wants you happy.”
“He said that?”
“Yep.”
“Are you friends of his?”
“Nope,” I said. “Not even close.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“We sort of have our asses over a barrel and we got picked because we were expendable.”
Leonard said, “Girl, what’s your name?”
“Katie,” she said.
“All right,” Leonard said. “That’s good to know in case I want to call you to supper. Hap, are you okay back there?”
“A little traumatized. Not every day you meet Dracula and live.”
“Ain’t that the truth? We owe Tonto one.”
“We owe that shotgun one. Maybe we can take it to lunch.”
42
Leonard wheeled us away from the lake, and Tonto, who was driving in front of us, pulled the van to the side of the road and parked. We pulled up beside him, real close, lowered the window on the girl’s side. Tonto lowered his window, said, “Now what?”
“I think we ought to think this over before we do anything,” Leonard said.
“What’s that mean?” Tonto asked.
Leonard looked back at me. I leaned forward in the seat and spoke loud enough for them to hear. “I’m with
