“In so many ways.” Across the Lagoon, Tom Doyle was haranguing his dwindling cohort to arm up and follow him to the rooftops. “Y’know, I asked Rubio once: if he hated Unca Joe so much, why didn’t he move to some den he approved of? He said that wasn’t the point of criticism. He wanted people to listen, then make it better where they lived. But sometimes you need outside help. We’d have been cooked if Will hadn’t showed up. Probably we’d all be dead.”

“Maybe. Well, probably. Now, maybe not. And that’s about sharing resources and working together.” He bent for a long kiss damp with rainwater, then stood away. “Which reminds me: we’ll be picking up a tow on the way out.”

He pointed to two small rafts being loaded at the front of the den. Resting on piles of scrap lumber and other burnable trash were the sheet-wrapped forms of the two Macy kids who didn’t make it, and the long, narrow shape of my friend.

“When we get to open water, we’ll give him a light and set him free.”

FORTY

Tide turning in three hours, and there was still the weather to deal with.

By the time we got everyone and everything loaded up, the wind was tearing whitecaps off the swells rolling through the Lagoon. The rain was heavier, but I convinced Daniel to take down the stern canopy before it got blown away.

“Ahoy, Book Boat!”

This time it was Rivera, pulling up in a water taxi full of Macys. They clustered around her, chicks with a mother hen. Her dark hair was in messy braids, like some stiff-fingered little Macy had done them for her. The sadness that had shadowed her beauty was fading behind a satisfied glow.

“She looks so . . . happy,” I marveled. “Despite all this mess.”

“I’d say she’s found her niche,” agreed Daniel.

“Got a favor to ask,” she called over the gusts.

I tossed the bumpers over the side and waved the driver alongside. “What’s up?”

Rivera urged one of the Macy boys forward. I recognized the kid Daniel had spent time soothing the night of their horrific rescue. “Alejandro would like to come aboard.”

“Sure, but . . .”

She gestured vaguely behind us. “You’re taking Rubio out, right? And the others?”

“Oh. Yes . . . ?” I was still puzzled.

Rivera straightened, her delicate face gone formal. “Jandi would like to do the honors for his denmates.”

Daniel eased up beside me. “Jandi! Qué tal?”

Even scrubbed and fed, his cuts and bruises healing, the boy seemed to be just barely managing. His teeth worried his lower lip and his gaze jumped about. But seeing Daniel steadied him. His tense brown face brightened. “It’s okay? I can come with you?”