بخش 05 - فصل 07

7 As they watch Hodges enter the electronics store, a question occurs to Jerome. “Holly, how did you get here? Taxi?”

She shakes her head and

points into the parking lot.

There, parked three rows back

from Jerome’s Wrangler, is a

gray Mercedes sedan. “It was in

the garage.” She notes Jerome’s

slack-jawed amazement and

immediately

becomes

defensive. “I can drive, you

know. I have a valid driver’s

license. I’ve never had an

accident, and I have Safe

Driver’s Insurance. From Allstate. Do you know that the man who does the Allstate ads on TV used to be the president on 24?” “That’s the car . . .” She frowns, puzzled. “What’s the big deal, Jerome? It was in the garage and the keys were in a basket in the front hall. So what’s the big fat deal?”

The dents are gone, he notes. The headlights and windshield have been replaced. It looks as good as new. You’d never know it was used to kill people. “Jerome? Do you think Olivia would mind?” “No,” he says. “Probably not.” He is imagining that grille covered with blood.

Pieces of shredded cloth dangling from it. “It wouldn’t start at first, the battery was dead, but she had one of those portable jump-stations, and I knew how to use it because my father had one. Jerome, if Mr. Hodges doesn’t make an arrest, could we walk down to the frogurt place?”

He barely hears her. He’s still staring at the Mercedes. They returned it to her, he thinks. Well, of course they did. It was her property, after all. She even got the damage repaired. But he’d be willing to bet she never drove it again. If there were spooks–real ones –they’d be in there. Probably screaming. “Jerome? Earth to Jerome.”

“Huh?” “If everything turns out okay, let’s get frogurt. I was sitting in the sun and waiting for you guys and I’m awfully hot. I’ll treat. I’d really like ice cream, but . . .” He doesn’t hear the rest. He’s thinking Ice cream. The click in his head is so loud he actually winces, and all at once he knows why one of

the Cyber Patrol faces on Hodges’s computer looked familiar to him. The strength goes out of his legs and he leans against one of the walkway support posts to keep from falling. “Oh my God,” he says. “What’s wrong?” She shakes his arm, chewing her lips frantically. “What’s wrong? Are you sick, Jerome?”

But at first he can only say it again: “Oh my God.”