"That was taken last week at an establishment cal ed La Taverne des Rapides." He looked away "That's your nephew, right?"

"So? I don't see any patches," I said curtly.

"They're Rock Machine."

He placed a second photo in front of me. I was getting very tired of cel uloid bikers.

Again I saw Kit, this time straddling a Harley, engaged in conversation with two other cyclists. His companions were clean-cut but wore the standard bandannas, boots, and sleeveless denim jackets. On each back I could see a heavily armed figure in a large sombrero. The upper rockers said Bandidos, the lower, Houston.

"That was taken at a swap meet at the Galveston County fairgrounds."

"What are you suggesting?" My voice came out high and stretched.

"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm just showing you pictures."

"I see."

Claudel frowned, then crossed his ankles and regarded me intently. I folded my hands to disguise the shaking.

"My nephew lives in Texas. Recently his father bought him a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, and he's become enamored with the two-wheeled culture.

That's it."

"Riding in the wind is not what bikers live for these days."

"I know that. I'm sure these were chance encounters, but I wil speak to him."

I handed back the photos.

"The Houston PD has a jacket on Christopher Howard."

If I could have laid hands on Harry at that moment I would have committed a felony

"He's been arrested?"

"Four months ago. Possession."

No wonder his father had hauled him up to the north woods.

"I know what advice is worth on the open market," Claudel went on. "But be careful."

"Be careful of what?"

He looked at me a long moment, no doubt deciding whether to confide.

"The paramedic actual y picked out two words." The phone rang but I ignored it. "Brennan's kid."

I felt someone light a match in my chest. Could they know about Katy? Kit? I looked away, not wanting Claudel to see my fear.

"Meaning?"

Claudel shrugged.

"Was it a threat? A warning?"

"The paramedic says he doesn't listen to patients while he's working on them."

I studied the wal .

"So what are you suggesting?"

"I don't want to alarm you, but Constable Quickwater and I think -- "

"Oh, yeah. Quickwater. He's a lot of laughs." I cut him oft my sarcasm triggered by anger and fear

"He's a good investigator."

"He's an asshole. Every time I talk to him he acts like he's deaf."

"He is."

"What?"

"Quickwater is deaf."

I searched for a response, but couldn't come up with a single word.

"Actual y he's deafened. There's a difference."

"Deafened how?"

"He took a cast-iron pipe in the back of the head while breaking up an al ey fight. Then they shot him with a stun gun until the batteries died."

"When?"

"About two years ago.

"That destroyed his hearing?"

"So far."

"Wil it come back?"

"He hopes so.

"How does he function?"

"Extremely wel ."

"I mean, how does he communicate?"