“If I do, she’ll just yell at me. She’s probably not finished from yesterday.”

“She’s worried. And she hasn’t been feeling well. Let her yell. It’ll do her good.”

“I’ll think about it. What do you mean, not feeling well? She was fine last night.”

“She’s a tough old birdie, she is. She’s all right. Don’t worry about her.”

“You take care of her, then.”

“I always do, don’t I?”

“Yeah.”

“Call her,” he said, patting my cheek. “I’m going to head on. My cell phone’s in the car. On the way home I’ll let her know you’re alive, but you call her too. Let her hear your voice.” He slung an arm around my shoulder, squeezing me with a half hug. “Be careful.”

“I always am.”

“You and I both know that’s not the case.”

“Yeah.”

He turned to leave, pausing at the door. “Good-bye. I mean it, be careful.”

“Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t. But I sure won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”

“Dear God,” he swore. “Don’t put it that way, or we’re both screwed.”

I was about to hug him and send him on his way when I got an idea. “Hey, Dave?”

“Huh?”

“What do you know about the Seminoles?”

“The football team or the Indians? I know they’re both from Florida, that’s about it. Why?”

“The Indians. And, uh, no reason.”

Dave thought a moment, ignoring my lie and leaving his hand on the door. “If you really want to know, there’s a store downtown called the Crescent Moon. I went to school with the guy who owns it—we ended up at UT together for a while. He’s not Native American himself, but he dabbles in the culture. He could help you out, maybe. His name’s Brian Cole.”

Of course. Leave it to Dave, the Answer Man. I should have known he’d have the right connections. “Brian Cole at the Crescent Moon?”

“Yeah, it’s one of those incense-smelling New Age shops. Tell him I sent ya. I’d try to think up some directions, but since you’ve become such a master of the phone book, I’ll trust you to figure it out on your own.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Only after he was gone did I begin to feel tired. It had been a big day, and it was getting late—at least late enough that an independent retail shop would not be open. I retreated to my room and turned on the TV, trying to find a local channel that wasn’t covering the manhunt at Eliza’s. They’d catch him, I knew they would; but I didn’t really want to watch it.

I gave up and turned it off, then hit the lights as well, still not knowing what I intended to do in the morning.