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“We got no choice about this,” Barry said. His eyes were glittering with fever, but they were sane<br />
and aware. In that moment, Crow was very proud of him. “No choice at all, Computer Boy, so man up.<br />
True comes first. Always.”<br />
Crow sat down behind the wheel and turned the key. “Jimmy,” he said. “Sit with me a minute.<br />
Want to have a little gab.”<br />
Jimmy Numbers sat down in the passenger seat.<br />
“These three girls, how old are they? Do you know?”<br />
“That and a lot of other stuff. I hacked their school records when I got the pictures. In for a penny,<br />
in for a pound, right? Deane and Cross are fourteen. The Stone girl is a year younger. She skipped a<br />
grade in elementary school.”<br />
“I find that suggestive of steam,” Crow said.<br />
“Yeah.”<br />
“And they all live in the same neighborhood.”<br />
“Right.”<br />
“I find that suggestive of chumminess.”<br />
Jimmy’s eyes were still swollen with tears, but he laughed. “Yeah. Girls, y’know. All three of them<br />
probably wear the same lipstick and moan over the same bands. What’s your point?”<br />
“No point,” Crow said. “Just information. Information is power, or so they say.”<br />
Two minutes later, Steamhead Steve’s ’Bago was merging back onto Interstate 90. When the<br />
speedometer was pegged at sixty-five, Crow put on the cruise control and let it ride.<br />
7<br />
Dan outlined what he had in mind, then waited for Dave Stone to respond. For a long time he only sat<br />
beside Abra with his head lowered and his hands clasped between his knees.<br />
“Daddy?” Abra asked. “Please say something.”<br />
Dave looked up and said, “Who wants a beer?”<br />
Dan and John exchanged a brief bemused glance and declined.<br />
“Well, I do. What I really want is a double shot of Jack, but I’m willing to stipulate with no input<br />
from you gentlemen that sippin whiskey might not be such a good idea tonight.”<br />
“I’ll get it, Dad.”<br />
Abra bounced into the kitchen. They heard the snap of the flip-top and the hiss of the carbonation<br />
—sounds that brought back memories for Dan, many of them treacherously happy. She returned with<br />
a can of Coors and a pilsner glass.<br />
“Can I pour it?”<br />
“Knock yourself out.”<br />
Dan and John watched with silent fascination as Abra tilted the glass and slid the beer down the<br />
side to minimize the foam, operating with the casual expertise of a good bartender. She handed the<br />
glass to her father and set the can on a coaster beside him. Dave took a deep swallow, sighed, closed<br />
his eyes, then opened them again.<br />
“That’s good,” he said.<br />
I bet it is, Dan thought, and saw Abra watching him. Her face, usually so open, was inscrutable, and<br />
for the moment he could not read the thoughts behind it.<br />
Dave said, “What you’re proposing is crazy, but it has its attractions. Chief among them would be<br />
a chance to see these . . . creatures . . . with my own eyes. I think I need to, because—in spite of