It was called The New Hero: Why Humanism is a Sin, by Jackie Forrest, an eight-year-old relic of Nora's brief flirtation with fundamentalism. He could still remember the rush of relief when she announced her return to agnosticism. At the time, Thomas had thought he'd shown her how dim the light of Jesus was compared to that of Reason, but now he imagined that her affair with Neil had been the deciding factor. When it came to her immortal soul, Nora had decided to err on the side of fucking.

'They think it has something to do with Neil?' Mia asked.

'From the sounds of it. Jackie Forrest fits the profile, at least. Half-ass famous.'

Mia shook his head. In the silent moment that followed, Thomas imagined he was either thinking of the preacher shrieking in some dingy basement, or like him, trying not to. Despite Agent Atta's injunction, Thomas had continued to brief him on the details as they arose. Mia wasn't simply nosy, he was relentlessly nosy, and with such I've-got-your-best-interests-at-heart curiosity that he was well-nigh irresistible. Thomas inevitably told him everything about everything, and felt better for it afterward. Mia had a keen eye, and perhaps most importantly, had no problem giving honest feedback.

But this stuff with Neil's personal semantic apocalypse… Sometimes even Mia seemed to regret it. 'When you said he'd gone psycho,' he had admitted the day before yesterday, 'I thought of blood, knives, and titties in the shower. Not this. This is beyond sick and healthy.' His Number One Neighbor had strayed into curiosity-killed-the-cat territory, and he knew it.

Mia cleared his throat. 'So, have you got Sam a red wig yet?' A clumsy way of changing the subject, Thomas thought, but a welcome one.

'Huh?'

'You know… To do the whole Agent Scully thang.'

'So you had the hots for her too, huh?'

'Huge,' Mia said, warming to the topic. 'If it wasn't for Fox Mulder, I might be straight. You and I would be sitting here talking pussy and football.'

Thomas laughed. 'Aren't we talking pussy now?'

'A privilege of growing up in a bilingual household.'

'Well, to answer your question, no, I haven't bought her a red wig yet. She packs a pistol you know.'

'Probably for the best. She's not Agent Scully hot, anyway…'

'Scuse me?'

'Doesn't have that "I'm-frumpy-let's-fuck" air about her.'

Thomas roared with laughter, then caught himself, remembering the kids.

'Sh-shush,' Mia said, laughing.

'Sometimes,' Thomas gasped, 'talking to you is like smoking a joint.'

Mia had done this many times before, especially during the darkest days of his divorce: distracted him from his troubles, reminded him what it was like to laugh. Thomas pulled two more beers from his cooler and tossed one to his Number One Neighbor.

'So you had a thing for what's-his-face… The guy who played Fox. David Duchovny?'