“The boys are awake.”

“They’re watching television. They wouldn’t know it if a bomb went off up here.” He kissed her neck and began to rub his hand in circles on her stomach, moving higher with each rotation.

Ellen yawned. “I’m so sleepy,” she said. “I took a pill before you came home.”

Brody stopped rubbing. “What the hell for?”

“I didn’t sleep well last night, and I didn’t want to wake up if you came home late. So I took a pill.”

“I’m going to throw those goddam pills away.” He kissed her cheek, then tried to kiss her mouth but caught her in mid-yawn.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid it won’t work.”

“It’ll work. All you have to do is help a little.”

“I’m so tired. But you go ahead if you want. I’ll try to stay awake.”

“Shit,” said Brody. He rolled back to his side of the bed. “I’m not very big on screwing corpses.”

“That was uncalled for.”

Brody didn’t reply. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and feeling his erection dwindle. But the pressure inside him was still there, a dull ache in his groin.

A moment later, Ellen said, “What’s Harry Meadows’ friend’s name?”

“Hooper.”

“Not David Hooper.”

“No, I think his name is Matt.”

“Oh. I went out with a David Hooper a long, long time ago. I remember …” Before she could finish the sentence, her eyes shut, and soon she slipped into the deep breathing of sleep.

A few blocks away, in a small clapboard house, a black man sat at the foot of his son’s bed. “What story do you want to read?” he said.

“I don’t want to read a story,” said the boy, who was seven. “I want to tell a story.”

“Okay. What’ll we tell one about?”

“A shark. Let’s tell one about a shark.”

The man winced. “No. Let’s tell one about … a bear.”

“No, a shark. I want to know about sharks.”

“You mean a once-upon-a-time story?”

“Sure. Like, you know, once upon a time there was a shark that ate people.”

“That’s not a very nice story.”

“Why do sharks eat people?”

“I guess they get hungry. I don’t know.”

“Do you bleed if a shark eats you?”

“Yes,” said the man. “Come on. Let’s tell a story about another kind of animal. You’ll have nightmares if we tell about a shark.”

“No, I won’t. If a shark tried to eat me, I’d punch him in the nose.”

“No shark is going to try to eat you.”

“Why not? If I go swimming I bet one would. Don’t sharks eat black people?”

“Now stop it! I don’t want to hear any more about sharks.” The man lifted a pile of books from the bedside table. “Here. Let’s read Peter Pan.”

PART
TWO

6

On her way home Friday noon, after a morning of volunteer work at the Southampton Hospital, Ellen stopped at the post office to buy a roll of stamps and get the mail. There was no home mail delivery in Amity. In theory, only special delivery mail was brought to the door—any door within a mile radius of the post office; in fact, even special delivery mail (except that clearly labeled as sent by the Federal Government) was kept at the post office until someone called for it.