blackness, the sounds of his children calling for help surrounding him. He opened his eyes. Black and yellow spots danced in his line of vision. Dizziness overcame him and he gripped the wheel for support, his knuckles growing white.
A knock made him jump. He turned to see Babe bent down, her face separated from his by the window. 'I'm not fooling around,' she said. 'If you don't quit I'm giving this story to
Slowly Colin's breathing became regular, the car interior returning to its original shape. He felt exhausted. He had no doubts that Babe would carry out her threat and that once the story appeared he'd have to leave Seaville. Despite the murders he'd grown fond of the town and wanted to stay. Most of all he wanted to get to know Annie better. If ever he needed Mark to be there for him, he needed him now, he thought. And then he wondered why that made him uneasy.
LOOKING BACK-75 YEARS AGO
Elisha Congdon of Seaville, who claims to have great power from the Almighty, is in the public eye again. He returned recently from Atlanta, Ga., where he went to the federal authorities in a vain attempt to secure the release of Mr. M. Silver, who is in the federal prison there, serving a term for his religious acts. Elisha says Mr. Silver is all right except for a dent in his forehead.
TWENTY-FOUR
Fran said, 'What're you doing, Waldo?' She was watching him throw socks and underwear into his beat-up old suitcase.
'I'm packing,' he answered. He was wearing a green polo shirt she'd given him for his birthday, worn jeans, and high-topped Keds. His gun was on the bed next to the suitcase.
'Packing for what?'
'I'm leaving.' He opened a drawer and pulled out some shirts.
'I went down to the station looking for you when you didn't come home. I wanted to be with you. I was driving around looking for you, hon'.'
He slapped the shirts into the case. 'We've had it, Fran.'
'Meaning?' She put a hand on the suitcase lid.
Hallock glanced at her hand, went back to the bureau, grabbed a bunch of T-shirts. 'It means just what it says.' He wouldn't look at her.
'I don't understand. Explain.'
'Ha!'
'Ha?'
'Yeah, ha! I should explain? That's a good one.'
She slammed the suitcase shut and sat on it. 'Waldo, what the hell is this? Are you leaving because of what happened today at the meeting?'
'Now you're getting smart. Get off the goddamn suitcase.' For the first time he looked at her, the grooves under her slanting, sad eyes deeper.
'Oh, Waldo, that didn't have anything to do with me.'
He crossed his arms over his chest. 'Then what the hell were you doing there with those gals, right in the row with Julia Dorman and the rest?'
'I came to support you, Waldo.'
'Funny way of showing it.'
'I had no idea Julia was going to do what she did.'
'I've put up with your being on this committee and that, marching here, there, everywhere, embarrassing the bejesus out of me, but this time you've gone too far. Get off the goddamn suitcase, Fran.'
'Waldo, you're not listening.'
'I hear you. Get off.'
'No, I won't get off, not until you listen.'
Hallock suddenly had a sense of deja vu, then remembered that fight years before when he'd threatened to leave. But this time he was serious. 'What do I have to listen to, huh? More bullshit?'
'It's not bullshit. I came down to the meeting to support you, Waldo. Naturally I sat with my friends. Nobody said anything to me about speaking against you because nobody knew. Julia did that on her own, and you can bet we've had it with her.'
'It's too late, Fran.'
'That's just dumb.' She reached out to touch his cheek and he pushed her hand away, hard. She was knocked off balance and slipped from the suitcase to the bed, then onto the floor, cracking her head against the wood.
Hallock was beside her in a second. 'You okay?'
'I think so,' she answered, sitting up, rubbing the side of her head.
'Jesus, Fran, I didn't mean to-'
'I know. Don't worry about it.'
He helped her up. They stood close to one another.
She put her arms around his neck. 'Waldo, you've been hurt bad, and you've got to take it out on somebody. Don't make me the enemy.'
'Can't help it, Fran.' He pulled her arms from around his neck and went back to his packing.
'Didn't you hear anything I said?'
'I heard. Doesn't much matter what you meant, it's what happened, what everybody saw.'
'Since when do you care what people think?'
'I always cared about your damn causes. You don't know the crap I took about it.' He removed some shirt stays and cufflinks from a hand-carved box that had been his grandfather's.
'I felt I was doing some worthwhile things, not just being a housewife and mother.'
'What do you mean, just a housewife and mother? That's a lot.'
'Sure it is. I don't mean it that way. Oh, hell, Waldo, I don't know how to explain it. But if people were giving you a hard time about it, you should've said something. It's no good keeping stuff like that inside. It has to come out, explode. Like now.'
'You knew, Fran. How about that time you got thrown in the clink for picketing the nuclear plant?'
'Are you going to go into ancient history? I told you then I'd never do anything to embarrass you again and I haven't.'
'Until today.'
'You're not listening.'
He closed the suitcase, snapped shut the catches, lifted the case from the bed. 'I have to go.'
'Where?'
'I dunno. Motel, I guess.'
'What should I tell the kids?'
'Whatever you want.'
'How long will you be gone?' She sounded frightened.
'Long as it takes.'
'Long as what takes?'
'I don't know.' He started through the door, turned around. 'Make sure you lock up at night. And don't go anyplace by yourself-anyplace you're not familiar with, especially at night. Don't let the girls go off by themselves either. That sucker's still out there and nobody knows who's next. Least of all Special Agent Schufeldt.' A flicker of a smile crossed his lips.
