That’s when Babineau’s laptop awakens and chimes three times—an alert Brady programmed into it. Because safe is always better than sorry. He has no time to pull over, not when he’s racing this goddam storm, but he can’t afford not to. Ahead on the right is a boarded-up building with two metal girls in rusting bikinis on the roof, holding up a sign reading PORNO PALACE and XXX and WE DARE TO BARE. In the middle of the dirt parking lot—which the snow is now starting to sugarcoat—there’s a For Sale sign.

Brady pulls in, shifts to park, and opens the laptop. The message on the screen puts a significant crack right down the middle of his good mood.

11:04 AM: UNAUTHORIZED ATTEMPT TO MODIFY/CANCEL ZEETHEEND.COM DENIED

SITE ACTIVE

He opens the Malibu’s glove compartment and there is Al Brooks’s battered cell phone, right where he always kept it. A good thing, too, because Brady forgot to bring Babineau’s.

So sue me, he thinks. You can’t remember everything, and I’ve been busy.

He doesn’t bother going to Contacts, just dials Freddi’s number from memory. She hasn’t changed it since the old Discount Electronix days.

3

When Hodges excuses himself to use the bathroom, Jerome waits until he’s out the door, then goes to Holly, who’s standing at the window and watching the snow fall. It’s still light here in the city, the flakes dancing in the air and seeming to defy gravity. Holly once more has her arms crossed over her chest so she can grip her shoulders.

“How bad is he?” Jerome asks in a low voice. “Because he doesn’t look good.”

“It’s pancreatic cancer, Jerome. How good does anyone look with that?”

“Can he get through the day, do you think? Because he wants to, and I really think he could use some closure on this.”

“Closure on Hartsfield, you mean. Brady fracking Hartsfield. Even though he’s fracking dead.”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

“I think it’s bad.” She turns to him and forces herself to meet his eyes, a thing that always makes her feel stripped bare. “Do you see the way he keeps putting his hand against his side?”

Jerome nods.

“He’s been doing that for weeks now and calling it indigestion. He only went to the doctor because I nagged him into it. And when he found out what was wrong, he tried to lie.”

“You didn’t answer the question. Can he get through the day?”

“I think so. I hope so. Because you’re right, he needs this. Only we have to stick with him. Both of us.” She releases one shoulder so she can grip his wrist. “Promise me, Jerome. No sending the skinny girl home so the boys can play in the treehouse by themselves.”