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heartbroken old man try to control his tears.
“Deke . . . do you blame me? I’d understand if you do.”
“No,” he said at last. “Ellie doesn’t, either. When Sadie made up her mind to a thing, she carried
through. And if you were on Mercedes Street in Fort Worth, I was the one who told her how to find
you.”
“I was there.”
“Did the son of a bitch shoot her? They say on the newscasts that he did.”
“Yes. He meant to shoot me, but my bad leg . . . I tripped over a box or something and fell down.
She was right behind me.”
“Christ.” His voice strengthened a bit. “But she died doing the right thing. That’s what I’m going
to hold onto. It’s what you have to hold onto, as well.”
“Without her, I never would have gotten there. If you could have seen her . . . how determined she
was . . . how brave . . .”
“Christ,” he repeated. It came out in a sigh. He sounded very, very old. “It was all true. Everything
you said. And everything she said about you. You really are from the future, aren’t you?”
How glad I was that the bug was in my pocket. I doubted if they’d had time to plant listening
devices in the room itself, but I still cupped my hand to the mouthpiece and lowered my voice. “Not a
word about any of that to the police or the reporters.”
“Good God, no!” He sounded indignant at the very idea. “You’d never breathe free air again!”
“Did you go ahead and get our luggage out of the Chevy’s trunk? Even after—”
“You bet. I knew it was important, because as soon as I heard, I knew you’d be under suspicion.”
“I think I’ll be all right,” I said, “but you need to open my briefcase and . . . do you have an
incinerator?”
“Yes, behind the garage.”
“There’s a blue notebook in the briefcase. Put it in the incinerator and burn it. Will you do that for
me?” And for Sadie. We’re both depending on you.
“Yes. I will. Jake, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“And I’m sorry for yours. Yours and Miz Ellie’s.”
“It’s not a fair trade!” he burst out. “I don’t care if he is the president, it’s not a fair trade!”
“No,” I said. “It’s not. But Deke . . . it wasn’t just about the president. It’s about all the bad stuff
that would have happened if he had died.”
“I guess I have to take your word for that. But it’s hard.”
“I know.”
Would they have a memorial assembly for Sadie at the high school, as they had for Miz Mimi? Of
course they would. The networks would send camera crews, and there wouldn’t be a dry eye in
America. But when the show was over, Sadie would still be dead.
Unless I changed it. It would mean going through everything again, but for Sadie I’d do that. Even
if she took one look at me at the party where I’d met her and decided I was too old for her (although I
would do my best to change her mind about that). There was even an upside: now that I knew Lee
really had been the lone gunman, I wouldn’t have to wait so long to dispatch his sorry ass.
“Jake? Are you still there?”
“Yes. And remember to call me George when you talk about me, okay?”
“No fear there. I may be old, but my brains still work pretty well. Am I going to see you again?”
Not if Agent Hosty tells me what I want to hear, I thought.
“If you don’t, it’s because things are working out for the best.”
“All right. Jake . . . George . . . did she . . . did she say anything at the end?”
I wasn’t going to tell him what her final words had been, that was private, but I could give him