She sipped her coffee and watched the water like it was brand new, not just newly unveiled.
“It’s a view.”
“Sure is. I almost don’t believe it, when I wake up. Early now, maybe five. I like to watch the sunset, you seen it over the water, Walk?”
“Sure.”
She lit a cigarette and breathed it like it was all that kept her from screaming out. He knew what she’d done, she knew it, yet there were still lines to run, practice for the most tiresome of plays.
“So, you were with Darke that night. Star. That night when she was shot dead.”
Dee flinched at that, like it was not necessary. “We’ve been through this.”
“We have.”
“You look tired, Walk.”
He steadied his hand, buried it beneath the table, pulled on his sunglasses as clouds moved in.
“He was here, that night. What were you doing? Remind me.”
“Fucking.” She spoke without emotion.
A while back and he might’ve blushed. Instead he smiled a sad smile, but he got it. There was no hatred there.
“I worked my whole …” She held the smoke deep. “I paid my taxes, raised my children, didn’t murder my cheating husband. I never took anything from anyone.”
He sipped his coffee, too hot to taste.
“You know how much money I make in a year, Walk?”
“Not enough.”
“He doesn’t pay child support. Is that fair? He hides it all so he doesn’t have to pay for the girls he brought into the world.” She looked down. “The Radley kids. Are they—”
“Their mother is dead.”
“Jesus, Walk.” She dragged a hand through her hair. Thin wrists, veins standing proud. “You gonna make this harder than it needs to be. You got the man already, right?”
“You didn’t think to ask where Darke really was that night.”
She tipped her head back, mouth a little open as she blew the smoke away.
“Did you at least get security?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She met his eye with tears in hers.
“I could call you in, make you testify. You know what the penalty is for perjury?” Maybe he could prove Darke had lied, but it didn’t mean shit, not really, not without so much more.
She closed her eyes. “There’s no family. Just me and the girls. No one else at all.”
He would not tear a mother from her children. The toll was too great. He knew that from talking to Hal and watching Duchess and Robin.
“I need something. A favor. It could come to nothing, but I need it.”
She did not ask what, just nodded once.
He reached forward and touched her hand, and she grasped his tight, like she did not want to let go, like she could wring the absolution from it.
31
SHE SLEPT THE SHALLOWEST OF sleeps each night, so was on her feet quick and pulling on a sweater and jeans when she heard the tapping. Robin slept deeply beside, curled fetal the way he used to in the family room at Vancour Hill Hospital.
At the window she held up a finger, found her sneakers and crept down the stairs and out into the cold night.
He wore a scarf and woollen hat, his bike propped by the gate.
“Shit, Thomas Noble. That was Mary Lou’s window you were tossing stones at.”
“Sorry.”
“How far did you ride?”
“I left at dinner, told my mom I was sleeping over at a friend’s.”
“You don’t have friends.”
“I’ve started hanging out with Walt Gurney.”
“That kid with the eye?”
“It’s only contagious if you touch it.”
He wore a coat so thick it was like his body was wrapped with tires.
They moved down into the long yard. Behind bare trees was a small fishpond. Robin had sat there an hour before Mrs. Price told him it was not stocked.
They sat together on a stone bench beneath a half-moon and bright nests of starlight.
“You should really wear regular gloves. Not even Robin wears mittens.”
Thomas Noble reached across and took her hand and blew onto it, then braced himself but she said nothing.
“You were in the newspaper. All that stuff that happened. I kept the cuttings.”
“I saw it all.”
“I wish you were coming back to school.”
A look toward the sleeping house, the neighbors’ beside. Wake up, go to work and pay bills. Take vacations. They worried about pensions and P.T.A. meetings, which car to buy next and where to spend Christmas.
“I liked Hal. I know he was scary and all that but I liked him just the same. I’m real sorry for you, Duchess.”
She balled snow in her hand till her bones ached. “I’m figuring out my next move. Take it back to breathing. I can’t fuck up, I know that much. The girl, Mary Lou … I’d like to behead that motherfucker.”
Thomas Noble pulled his hat low over his ears.
“I need to get back to Cape Haven. I made a promise to Robin, that I’d find us a home for good this time. It’s all that matters to him.”
“I asked my mother if you could come live with us but—”
She waved him off, gave him an out. “The way she is with the mailman you’ll likely have a sibling soon enough.”
He frowned.
“I don’t need anyone … but my brother, he’s just a baby really. You think there’s such a thing as a truly selfless act, Thomas Noble?”
“Sure. You coming to the winter dance with me.”
She smiled.
“I like winter most. Out of all the seasons, and I think we have more than most in Montana.”
“Why?”
He raised his bad hand, the mitten covering it totally.
“That’s why you wear mittens.”
“Yes.”
“There was an outlaw, William Dangs, and he was a crack shot badass that held up three banks before they got him. He had one arm, at the shoulder, whole thing gone.”
“Serious?”
“Yes.” Right then she was glad he did not know her tells.
She began to shiver.
He took off his coat and slipped it round her shoulders.
He began to shiver.
“They might send us someplace far. If we get anyone at all, could be anywhere in the whole country.”
“I’ll ride there. Doesn’t matter where.”
“I don’t need anyone.”
“I know. You’re the toughest girl I ever
