But in time, I will know that too.
He got to his feet. Willard remained seated, his eyes fixed on him.
“You okay?” asked Moloch.
“Dexter doesn’t like me,” said Willard. “Shepherd neither.”
“They don’t have to like you.”
“I think they want to hurt me.”
Moloch was grateful for the cover of darkness.
“They won’t do that. They’ll do what I say.”
“What you say,” echoed Willard. He spoke in a monotone.
“That’s right. Now let’s go downstairs, get something to eat.”
He waited until Willard rose. For a moment, they stood together at the doorway, each seemingly unwilling to turn his back on the other. At last, Willard stepped through, and Moloch followed him, just as Moloch had followed him from the bar years before.
I trust you.
Followed him to a house.
They’ll do what I say.
Followed him to a woman.
What you say.
And bound himself to Willard in damnation.
The Last Day
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds…
– Macaulay, “Horatius”
Chapter Eight
The giant was gone. He left her before the clock read five, for he would soon have to relieve the patrolmen on duty and allow them to catch the ferry back to the mainland. A new cop was coming over on the return leg; a rookie, he said, one who had never been given island duty before. He stroked her hair as he spoke, his arm holding her to him as they lay close together in the false intimacy resulting from their lovemaking.
For it was false. Dupree wanted to be close to her, but how could he draw near when she would tell him so little and when he suspected the veracity of even those small details that she chose to reveal? In the restaurant, he had been startled by how beautiful she looked. During her time on the island, it had seemed to him that she did all that she could not to attract attention, to downplay and even to camouflage her looks. But when she’d entered Good Eats that night, heads had turned, and Dupree had tried hard not to look smug as she walked to his table. It made him determined that the night should be special for her, for them both. Without being asked, Dale Zimmer had taken personal responsibility for their meal, moving between the kitchen and the dining room, solicitous without being overbearing. From their window table overlooking the water they could see the lights of the neighboring islands shining brightly, like small night suns hoping to dazzle the stars. In the candlelight, he had found himself occasionally overawed by her and had concentrated so hard on trying not to break or spill anything that his head hurt by the end of the meal. The only taints upon the evening were the encounter with Lubey and Scarfe at the Rudder, and Dupree’s niggling concern at the fact that his companion was still keeping things from him.
Marianne was aware of his unease. Her years spent moving and hiding had heightened her perceptions, making her acutely sensitive to how others were regarding her. Now, alone, she replayed the events of the previous night in her mind, recalling his reactions, his hesitations, the fleeting changes in expression as he listened to her speak. She had not intended the night to end as it had, or if she had, then she had not admitted it to herself. But as the evening went on, and the wine began to have its effect, she wondered what it would be like to make love to him, to take him inside her. She had been a little afraid; afraid of the weight of him, his bulk, and the awkwardness that came with it, for there was little that was graceful about him. He was a man constantly waiting for the sound of falling objects, a man always out of step with the world. But then he came to her bed, and he was gentle, and his touch was surprisingly tender.
She felt guilty for lying to him about her past, but she had no choice in the matter. To tell him the truth could lead to her losing Danny. Worse, it would expose her, and then he would find out.
And his people would come.
Lost amid birdsong, the warmth of him still upon the pillow, Marianne began to cry.
Dupree drove first to his own house, where he showered and changed into his uniform. In his bathroom, as he listened to the water running in the shower, he smelled Marianne upon him and felt a twinge of regret that her scent would soon be washed from his body. Later, after he had changed, he picked up his shirt from the night before and brought it to his face. There was a small stain on the material where her face had pressed against him and he touched the traces of makeup with his fingertip. Then he carefully placed the shirt in the bathroom closet, above the laundry basket.
Barker was sitting in the office reading a novel when Dupree arrived. The sound of running water came from the open bathroom door, where Lockwood was brushing his teeth.
“Sleep well?” asked Barker. He was grinning.
“Pretty good,” said Dupree, maintaining a poker face.
“Dinner good?”
“That was pretty good too.”
“Breakfast?”
“I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.”
“You should eat breakfast. You need to keep up your strength. I like a woman to make me breakfast the morning after.”
Dupree scowled at him. “Is this in the real world, or the fantasy one?”
Now it was Barker’s turn to frown. “Hey, my wife makes breakfast every morning, now that I come to think of it. Sometimes we even have sex the night before. Not often, but sometimes.”
“More than I need to know,” said Dupree. “So much more than I need to know.”
Lockwood came out of the bathroom. He walked like a dancer on the balls of his feet. He and the overweight Barker were an unlikely pairing, but Dupree liked them both in their own way.
“I borrow you for a few minutes?” Dupree said to Lockwood. He wanted someone to help him take Marianne’s car back to her house, but he wasn’t about to ask Barker to do it. Lockwood was less likely to use his suspicions about Dupree’s nocturnal activities as a source of humor.
“Sure.”
Lockwood grabbed his jacket and followed Dupree outside.
“I have to take a car back to its owner. I’d like you to follow me in the Explorer, you got nothing else to do, and give me a ride back here afterward.”
“No problem.”
“I appreciate it.”
They drove out to Marianne Elliot’s house. Dupree parked outside her front door, leaving the keys in the ignition. He looked up at the window of her bedroom, but the drapes were closed. He wondered what she was doing, until he saw the drapes move slightly and then Marianne was standing at the window, looking down on him. She smiled nervously and gave him a little wave. He waved back, then walked over and got into the Explorer next to Lockwood.
Lockwood looked at him.
“So, did she make you breakfast?”
Dupree reddened.
“I asked you to come along because I didn’t think you were as big a horse’s ass as Barker.”
Lockwood shrugged.
“Not smaller, just quieter.”
They drove along in silence for a time, until Lockwood asked Dupree if Sally Owen had found him last night.
“Yeah, I took care of it.”
“Lubey give you any trouble?”
“Nope, just shot his mouth off some.”
“You think he and Terry Scarfe were just catching up?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they’re thinking of forming a book club.”
“A picture-book club. Those guys are dumb.”
“Lubey is, but Scarfe is a little smarter. He’s like a rat. He’d sell his mother’s corpse for cash, if he could bother to dig her up.”
“You think he was dealing on the island?”