“Aren’t you coming to bed?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I need a minute, that’s all.”

She sat down across from him. “Trevor and I were in touch all day.”

Duckworth nodded solemnly. “Me too. I didn’t see his car out front.”

“He’s still sitting in the parking lot at Carol’s apartment.”

“My God, it’s been like seventeen hours.”

“He’s still hoping she’ll come home.”

Duckworth’s head went slowly up and down. “Yeah,” he said.

“Is she coming home?” his wife asked.

“I don’t honestly know. Maybe I should go see him. Wait with him.”

She placed a hand over his. “You can’t go out again. You look like you can barely keep your eyes open.”

He put the bottle to his lips, tipped it back. “He showed me his tattoo.”

“He told me.”

Duckworth’s eyes started to mist. He had to look away from Maureen. He stared at the window and the darkness that lay beyond. “I had no idea.”

“He loves you. He respects you.”

Duckworth shrugged.

“Stop it,” Maureen said. “You two may butt heads now and then, but you’re his hero.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know.” He paused. “There are a lot of things I don’t know. Like where Carol is. She’s out there somewhere. She may be with this Calder character. But is she alive?” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. I’d say the odds aren’t good.”

“You haven’t told Trevor that.”

“No, I haven’t.”

They were both quiet for several moments. Finally Maureen said, “What’s with the Tylenol?”

“I hurt.”

He told her about what had happened at Eleanor Beecham’s house. Getting shoved about by Norma and Harvey. Punched in the chest.

“They were both arrested and charged with assaulting an officer,” he said. “Social services swooped in to deal with Mrs. Beecham. That guy whose back got tattooed? His father showed up just in time. Saved my ass.”

”Well. Lucky he was there.”

“Yeah.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“Kind of all over.”

“Point.”

Duckworth thought a moment, then raised his hand into the air, pointed down toward his head, and twirled his finger around. “That general area.”

She smiled. “You look exhausted.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“I mean, all the time. Ever since what happened a year ago.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I think about it a lot. Randy phoned me, begged me to come to the memorial. Wants to give me a stupid plaque.”

Maureen nodded. “I think you should go.”

“I don’t want to.”

“But you should. People are grateful for what you did. Let them show you.” She hesitated. “He called me, too.”

“Finley called you?”

“He asked me to talk you into it.”

Duckworth grinned. “The bastard. He told me a memorial without me present would be like a massage without a happy ending.”