“I don’t think God’s on his side anymore. Besides, I’ll be there for you. And Horowitz, and probably half the state police. All you have to do is be yourself.”

Marge took a little quivering breath and squared her shoulders as they pulled up in front of the hospital. A trooper helped them out of the car, and they hurried through the door and into the lobby. When the elevator doors opened a nurse met them and led them to the room next to Barney’s, where Horowitz was waiting for them.

“Okay,” he told Marge. “Everything is set. There’s a video camera in the room, and a tape recorder, too. You’ll be under observation at all times. My men”—he indicated two state troopers in the room—“are only a few steps away. You’re absolutely safe, and so is your husband. All you have to do is make Davidson incriminate himself. He has to tell you to kill him, or he has to take some action that would kill Barney. Do you understand?”

Marge’s eyes were enormous, her mouth tiny as she nodded.

“Okay. You go on in the room and wait for him. We’ll have him paged.”

“Good luck.” Lucy smiled and patted her hand. “You can do it.”

Lucy watched as Marge left the room, then reappeared on the video screen. Horowitz and the two uniformed state police officers stood behind her, also watching the screen.

“I have two men dressed as orderlies in the hall,” said Horowitz. Just then, they heard the public address system call for Reverend Davidson to go to room 203, and Horowitz said, “Now we just have to wait.”

Cool and self-contained as always, he stood watching the video monitor. To Lucy the scene on the screen looked like something from a daytime soap opera. There was the hospital room filled with flowers and cards. There was the bed surrounded with blinking and beeping pieces of machinery. There was the patient lying still, unconscious.

They watched as Marge settled herself on a chair next to Barney’s side. They saw her take his hand in her own and stroke it gently. They heard her soft words as she greeted him. Still unconscious, he showed no reaction to her presence but lay peaceful and still, defenseless as a napping baby.

Marge looked up sharply, and suddenly Dave Davidson appeared on the screen. She stood up awkwardly as he embraced her.

Watching the screen, Lucy shivered. How could evil be so self-effacing and mild-mannered? She preferred the directness of Cool Professional to the hypocritical helpfulness of the minister. The men around her tensed. One officer was nervously fingering a walkie-talkie, and the other stood by the door with his pistol in his hand. They were ready to spring the trap.

“This is a sad business,” said Davidson, withdrawing from the embrace and patting Marge mechanically on the back.