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She
leaned
beside
him
against
the
railing
,
her
hands
loose
and
relaxed
.
'
Yeah
.
We
were
gonna
come
here
once
,
either
here
or
some
place
in
Europe
.
’
'
We
who
?
’
'
Nobody
,
’
she
said
,
giving
her
shoulders
an
involuntary
toss
.
'
You
said
you
wanted
to
hit
the
bed
.
Sleep
.
I
could
use
some
sleep
.
’
'
Yeah
,
’
Case
said
,
rubbing
his
palms
across
his
cheekbones
.
'
Yeah
,
this
is
some
place
.
’
The
narrow
band
of
the
Lado
-
Acheson
system
smoldered
in
abstract
imitation
of
some
Bermudan
sunset
,
striped
by
shreds
of
recorded
cloud
.
'
Yeah
,
’
he
said
,
'
sleep
.
’
Sleep
wouldn
’
t
come
.
When
it
did
,
it
brought
dreams
that
were
like
neatly
edited
segments
of
memory
.
He
woke
repeatedly
,
Molly
curled
beside
him
,
and
heard
the
water
,
voices
drifting
in
through
the
open
glass
panels
of
the
balcony
,
a
woman
’
s
laughter
from
the
stepped
condos
on
the
opposite
slope
.
Deane
’
s
death
kept
turning
up
like
a
bad
card
,
no
matter
if
he
told
himself
that
it
hadn
’
t
been
Deane
.
That
it
hadn
’
t
,
in
fact
,
happened
at
all
.
Someone
had
once
told
him
that
the
amount
of
blood
in
the
average
human
body
was
roughly
equivalent
to
a
case
of
beer
.
Each
time
the
image
of
Deane
’
s
shattered
head
struck
the
rear
wall
of
the
office
,
Case
was
aware
of
another
thought
,
something
darker
,
hidden
,
that
rolled
away
,
diving
like
a
fish
,
just
beyond
his
reach
.
Linda
.
Deane
.
Blood
on
the
wall
of
the
importer
’
s
office
.
