“Many worries, many hurts,” Wallace shouted as he brought the baton down again and again until Iver’s face was crisscrossed with slashes and welts and blood did indeed bloom from his flesh.

“Stop, Wallace!” Rose screamed.

He looked at her, baton poised, then broke into tears. “Would I do that? No no no no.”

“It’s all right,” she managed to say, her breath coming in painful gasps. “It was a good thing.”

“Good?” he asked, bewildered yet happy. He took her hand. But she disengaged herself and stumbled to the phone, skirting Iver Westa’s body and Wallace’s sagged, sobbing figure. The phone was dead.

“We have to go outside for help, Wallace,” she said slowly, feeling herself still in the thick syrup of fear. Had to get out, away from him, from his eyes that were yet staring at her as if they could see into her soul. Was he dead? She didn’t want to touch him to find out.

“Come on,” she said to Wallace.

Wallace was looking down into the bloody face. “A trick of mirrors,” he said. “Or a miracle.”

Yes, Rose thought. That’s why she almost recognized him in the car, why Nancy said it was a face she knew. The dark dancer.

She began to shiver violently, and Wallace was suddenly solicitous, taking off his dirty overcoat and wrapping it around her as they went down the stairs. She saw that he was shaking, too.

She took him into Robando’s Real Estate office. At their entrance, everyone jumped up from their desks. But Rose saw in their hesitation, in the split seconds of wondering how to react, that they were fearful, of Wallace or perhaps even herself. She explained, slowly, her voice fading in and out, her tongue feeling numb.

Looking askance at them both, Lou Robando phoned the police. Reluctantly, he offered them coffee. “That’s a nasty bruise on your neck,” he said to Rose and stared at Wallace with suspicion.

Rose looked at Wallace gratefully. “He saved my life,” she told Lou.

“Yeah? And how’d you happen to come along, buddy?” asked Lou.

“The girl told me,” Wallace said.

“What girl? You mean Rose?”

“The girl in the white dress,” Wallace said. “I don’t know her name.”

Lou Robando winked at Rose. “Sure thing.”

Rose ignored Lou. Nancy had made one last visit, but she was unlikely to come back again. She patted Wallace’s hand. A single tear slid down his cheek. She could feel her own tears starting to fall.

Jerram was the first to come rushing in, his face gray, his eyes sad.

“Are you okay, Rose?” He hugged her. “I didn’t know you were in danger.”

“That’s because you’re you and I’m me.”

“And I never was anything like you, was I?”

“You’re my brother, and I like you fine, just the way you are.”