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“Yes.” The other side of the Oneida’s neck was in ruin. Duncan had once stood with his grandfather on a dock in the Hebrides as a dead sailor had been carried ashore. The man had endured storms and pirates sailing from the West Indies only to die in the harbor when a lightning bolt had severed a backstay, which had whipped down and with dreadful fortune snapped his neck. “Mark it boy,” the old Scot had said, “each day our lives hang by inches.” “How are you feeling?” Now, however, the pursuers were no longer able to keep up the pace and, in addition, Haintl had his work cut out helping the seriously hurt detective to stay in the chase. The Oxenbauers were far behind by now, and when Marie reached the corner of the street and looked round, she could no longer see any of them. That night, when Linda was asleep, I joined Karinger in his bedroom to play video games. They used to be mine. For my birthday that year, I’d been given new games on the condition that I hand my old ones over to Karinger. While we were playing I asked, “Why’d you freak out earlier?” “Clear off!” Duncan stared at her back for several silent breaths, then turned and left the building. The truth was, of course, I’d been evenmore sentimental. Years after I’d written it, after what turned out to be our last conversation, I slipped the note into Karinger’s backpack. My hope was that he’d stumble upon it after I’d gone home, understand its significance, and return to me, his best friend, inspired to make me proud again. ‘No. It’s your wife.’ That explains her figure. The day that I die will be a good day to breathe my last. Whatever day that is will be just fine for taking it. The last breath. And all that, to what end: boredom and parasites. Alexis Papas, the old Greek. Don’t you remember? So much was written about it when he bought the farm and had this replica of an old-fashioned gabled farmhouse built. “But he was honored that you did, and that you placed the dead woman’s medallion in his unconscious hand. This was the day he was going to die, Tanaqua. He just chose the hour. Kincaid’s accusation of murder was his redemption, don’t you see? Hobart’s death was the beginning of the restoration of the lost god. The torture at the post was nothing compared to the torture of thinking the ancient Blooddancer would be gone forever, and all those deaths for naught. By being accused of the murder he knew what had happened, knew with certainty that the guardian of the god would not fail.”He knelt by the old man and felt for a pulse before giving a mournful shake of his head. “You gave him a great gift, Tanaqua.” The nonroad running northward along the volcanic neck is an embankment of stone, and the car is no willing vehicle. The bumps could cause a miscarriage if something were kicking in the belly..

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