Six finishes, and I wipe away the loose hair with a towel, then stand and look in the mirror. My head is whiter than the rest of my face, but only because it’s never seen the sun. I think that a few days in the Florida Keys, where Henri and I lived before coming to Ohio, would fix the problem in no time.

“See, John looks tough and rugged like that. I’m going to look like a turd,” Sam groans.

“I am tough and rugged, Sam,” I reply.

He rolls his eyes while Six cleans the clippers. “Down,” she says.

Sam obeys, dropping to his knees and bending over the tub. When she’s done, Sam stands and flashes me a pleading look.

“How bad is it?”

“You look good, buddy,” I say. “You look like a fugitive.”

Sam rubs his head a few times and finally looks in the mirror. He cringes. “I look like an alien!” he exclaims in mock disgust, then glances at me over his shoulder. “No offense,” he adds lamely.

Six collects all the hair from the tub and drops it in the toilet, careful to flush every strand. She coils the cord of the clippers into a neat, tight loop, then slips it back into its bag.

“No time like the present,” she says.

We strap our bags across her shoulders and she grabs them both with her hands, then makes herself invisible, causing the bags to disappear as well. She rushes out the door to take them to the truck without being seen. While she’s gone I reach up into the far right corner of the closet, toss aside a few towels, and grab the Loric Chest.

“You ever going to open that thing or what?” Sam asks. He’s been excited to see what’s inside ever since I told him about it.

“Yeah, I will,” I say. “As soon as I feel safe.”

The motel door opens, then closes. Six reappears and glances at the Chest.

“I won’t be able to make you and Sam disappear and that. Only what I hold in my hands. I’ll run it back to the truck first.”

“No, that’s okay. Take Sam with you, and I’ll follow behind.”

“That’s stupid, John. How are you going to follow behind?”

I pull on my hat and jacket, then zip it and pull the hood over my head so that only my face shows.

“I’ll be fine. I have advanced hearing, like you,” I say.

She eyes me skeptically and shakes her head. I grab Bernie Kosar’s leash and clip it to his collar.

“Only until we get to the truck,” I tell him, since he hates walking on a leash. On second thought, I lean down to carry him since his leg is still healing, but he tells me he’d rather walk himself.

“Ready when you are,” I say.