'Depends on what they offer.' He lowered the root beer again, and Boyd slurped. 'But it was good to have a break from chow breath, here.'

'You love that dog.'

'Not as much as I love you.' He gave me his 'Goofy Pete' grin.

'Hmm.'

'Any progress on your DMORT problems?'

'Maybe.'

Pete looked at his watch.

'I want to hear al about it, but right now I'm bushed.'

He drained the bottle and stood. Boyd shot to his feet.

'I think I wil mosey with my dog.'

I watched them leave, Boyd dancing around Pete's legs. When I turned, Birdie was peering in from the hal doorway, feet positioned for a quick retreat.

'Good riddance' is what I said. Miffed is what I felt. The damn dog hadn't looked back once.

Birdie and I were watching The Big Sleep when the second knock sounded. I was in a T-shirt, panties, and my old flannel robe. He was in my lap.

Ryan stood on the doorstep, face ashen in the porch light. I avoided repeating my usual opener. He'd tel me soon enough why he was in Charlotte.

'How did you know I'd be here?'

He ignored my question.

'Spending the evening by yourself?'

I tipped my head. 'Bacal and Bogart are in the study.'

I opened the door, as I had for Pete, and he brushed past me into the kitchen. I smeled cigarette smoke and perspiration, and assumed he'd driven straight from Swain County.

'Wil they mind if I make it a foursome?' Though his words were light, his face told me his heart was not.

'They're flexible.'

He folowed me to the den, and we settled at opposite ends of the couch. I clicked off the TV.

'Bertrand's been ID'ed.'

I waited.

'Mostly dental. And some other' — his Adam's apple rose and fel — 'fragments.'

'Petriceli?'

He shook his head, a short, tight gesture.

'They were seated at ground zero, so Petriceli may be vapor. What they found of Bertrand was two valeys over from the main site.' His voice was tight and shaky.

'Embedded in a tree.'

'Has Tyrel released the body?'

'This morning. I'm escorting it to Montreal on Sunday.'

I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck, to press my cheek to his chest and stroke his hair. I didn't move.

'The family wants a civil ceremony, so the SQ's organizing a funeral for Wednesday.'

I didn't hesitate.

'I'm going with you.'

'That's not necessary.' He kept opening and closing one hand around the other. His knuckles looked hard and white as a row of pebbles.

'Jean was my friend, too.'

'It's a long trip.'

His eyes glistened. He blinked, leaned back, and ran both hands up and down his face.

'Would you like me to go?'

'What about this pissing match with Tyrel?'