“From Z-Boy.”

“Yeah. Sounds like some superhero’s sidekick, doesn’t it? ‘Follow the adventures of Z-Man and Z-Boy, as they keep the streets of Gotham City safe from crime!’”

“That’s Batman and Robin. They’re the ones who patrol Gotham City.”

“I know that, I was reading Batman comics before you were born. I was just saying.”

She picks up her veggie burger, extracts a shred of lettuce, puts it down again. “When is the last time you visited Brady Hartsfield?”

Right to the heart of the matter, Hodges thinks admiringly. That’s my Holly.

“I went to see him just after the business with the Saubers family, and once more later on. Midsummer, that would have been. Then you and Jerome cornered me and said I had to stop. So I did.”

“We did it for your own good.”

“I know that, Holly. Now eat your sandwich.”

She takes a bite, dabs mayo from the corner of her mouth, and asks him how Hartsfield seemed on his last visit.

“The same . . . mostly. Just sitting there, looking out at the parking garage. I talk, I ask him questions, he says nothing. He gives Academy Award brain damage, no doubt about that. But there have been stories about him. That he has some kind of mind-power. That he can turn the water on and off in his bathroom, and does it sometimes to scare the staff. I’d call it bullshit, but when Becky Helmington was the head nurse, she said she’d actually seen stuff on a couple of occasions—rattling blinds, the TV going on by itself, the bottles on his IV stand swinging back and forth. And she’s what I’d call a credible witness. I know it’s hard to believe—”

“Not so hard. Telekinesis, sometimes called psychokinesis, is a documented phenomenon. You never saw anything like that yourself during any of your visits?”

“Well . . .” He pauses, remembering. “Something did happen on my second-to-last visit. There was a picture on the table beside his bed—him and his mother with their arms around each other and their cheeks pressed together. On vacation somewhere. There was a bigger version in the house on Elm Street. You probably remember it.”

“Of course I do. I remember everything we saw in that house, including some of the cheesecake photos of her he had on his computer.” She crosses her arms over her small bosom and makes a moue of distaste. “That was a very unnatural relationship.”

“Tell me about it. I don’t know if he ever actually had sex with her—”

“Oough!”