Following that ordeal, the media would have questions of their own. ("How do you feel, Mrs. Leben? Please? How do you feel about your husband's murderous spree, about nearly dying at his hands, how do you feel?") They would be even more persistent than the police — and far less courteous.
But now, as Jerry Peake and Julio Verdad were loaded into the paramedics' van and as the uniformed Las Vegas officers kept a watch on Sharp's corpse to make certain no one touched it before the police coroner arrived, Rachael and Ben had a moment together, just the two of them. Detective Hagerstrom had reported that Whitney Gavis had made it to the hospital in time and was going to pull through, and now he was getting into the emergency van with Julio Verdad. They were blessedly alone. They stood under the promenade awning, holding each other, neither of them speaking at first. Then they seemed to realize simultaneously that they would not be alone together again for long, frustrating hours, and they both tried to speak at once.
“You first,” he said, holding her almost at arm's length, looking into her eyes.
“No, you. What were you going to say?”
“I was wondering…”
“What?”
“… if you remembered.”
“Ah,” she said because she knew instinctively what he meant.
“When we stopped along the road to Palm Springs,” he said.
“I remember,” she said.
“I proposed.”
“Yes.”
“Marriage.”
“Yes.”
“I've never done that before.”
“I'm glad.”
“It wasn't very romantic, was it?”
“You did just fine,” she said. “Is the offer still open?”
“Yes. Is it still appealing?”
“Immensely appealing,” she said.
He pulled her close again.
She put her arms around him, and she felt protected, yet suddenly a shiver passed through her.
“It's all right,” he said. “It's over.”
“Yeah, it's over,” she said, putting her head against his chest. “We'll go back to Orange County, where it's always summer, and we'll get married, and I'll start collecting trains with you. I think I could get into trains, you know? We'll listen to old swing music, and we'll watch old movies on the VCR, and together we'll make a better world for ourselves, won't we?”
“We'll make a better world,” he agreed softly. “But not that way. Not by hiding from the world as it really is. Together, we don't need to hide. Together, we've got the power, don't you think?”
“I don't think,” she said. “I know.”
The rain had tailed off to a light drizzle. The storm was moving eastward, and the mad voice of the wind was stilled for now.