At that moment, Leroy’s eyes popped open and he sat straight up in bed, his face twisted in either pain or terror over something he was seeing in his mind. He threw off the covers and yanked the IV from his arm while Erika screamed, “Daddy!” He tried to stand up but his legs immediately buckled beneath him; Darren swooped in and kept him from collapsing onto the cold floor. He could feel the heat coming off the old man, his skin as tight and hot as one of the Goodfellows’ drums left out in the sun. Leroy Page grabbed Darren by his upper arms, whether to steady himself or move the Ranger out of the way, it was hard to tell. His eyes were wide and red, and he was looking with desperation over Darren’s shoulder toward the door.

“I’ve got to go, boy,” Mr. Page said. “I can’t stay here. It’s things I got to do out there. You’ve got to help me get out of here, before it’s too late.”

Mr. Page’s roommate must have rung for help because the door suddenly burst open and two nurses ran in; they were followed by an orderly who carefully but forcefully put Mr. Page back in bed and then stood over him as one of the nurses replaced the IV. By now, Erika was crying, saying, “I told you he’s not okay. He’s not making any sense. That’s the second time he’s tried to leave.”

Leroy was back to shaking in his bed.

Erika laid her arm across her father’s body again.

But it wasn’t until the hospital staff had left that Leroy’s body stilled. He looked at his daughter, then at Margaret, a kind of peace coming into his eyes so that he almost seemed lucid. Darren stepped forward, gently placed a friendly hand on the man’s leg, and asked, “Did you see who shot you, sir?”

“Rosemary,” he said. But he was not looking at Darren, did not appear to have heard his question at all. “Rosemary could stop this anytime she wants to.”

“Stop what, Daddy?”

Then he looked at Darren directly. “You can’t trust them.”

“Who?” Darren asked.

“None of ’em,” the old man barked, spittle boomeranging from the corners of his mouth and back again. “There is no redemption, there is no future free from their past sins. You give ’em an inch, they’ll take a town.”

Darren couldn’t tell if the distorted aphorism was a result of Leroy’s fevered brain misfiring or if there was something he was trying to tell Darren. “Mr. Page, who is Monica Maldonado? The lawyer? You had her business card.”