“They stole real property from her, but she’ll never miss it. They also stole her freedom, which in my book is a greater crime, though I believe she’s better off where she is now.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“The tower,” Kenzie said. “It’s all connected.”

Ted found himself talking before he knew what he wanted to say. All the pent-up anxiety and all the doubts spewed out of him. “I’ve got a set of facts, things I know to be true. Then I’ve got a bunch of things that I’ve been told. Some of them might be facts. It all fits together and makes a picture, but I have no idea if that picture is real. Or whether I am seeing all or only a part of the larger canvas. I can’t trust anyone’s motivations, as there’s a fair amount of money involved. And I realized last night that I can’t even trust my own motivations.”

The Preacher said nothing. Kenzie’s raised eyebrows spoke volumes.

“I’m not making much sense, am I?” Ted asked.

“Nope,” Kenzie said. “I think you need sustenance.”

The plates had arrived, the omelets wrapped in warm flour tortillas with sides of papas so red with ground pepper that Ted’s eyes watered and his nose began to itch just from looking at them. The Preacher grabbed the bottle of red sauce. “You go easy with this, or you’ll be on the crapper the rest of the day, hear?” He poured a healthy slug over the eggs and began to eat.

Ted took his advice and let two drops hit the edge of the plate. He brushed the tortilla in that general direction and took a bite. His sinuses opened up, his nostrils ran, and tears flowed down his cheeks. He loved it.

Kenzie gave him a sympathetic smile. “How are you doing?”

“Eat some of them taters,” the Preacher said. “The starch will help put out the fire.”

“You’re kidding,” Ted said. “They’re covered in chili powder.”

“Yeah, but that’s a slow burn. Try it.”

Ted hiccupped. His throat felt as if he’d been breathing flames.

“Eat ’em,” the Preacher said.

Ted did. The Preacher was right. The potatoes were spicy but warm, not searing. The combination was delicious.

“Better,” Ted said. “I may yet live.” With each bite the world became a kinder, gentler place.

The anxiety of the last few days faded. The paranoia of the predawn call settled into a feeling of mild unease. He needed allies. The Preacher had trusted him; it was time to reciprocate.

Kenzie finished her eggs, spread butter on her toast, and then scraped off most of it. “When you’re up to it, tell my friend the whole story. I’ll help out where I can.”