Blindside

being done that should be done.”
    “Worrying is my job, Wade. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Right now, I want you to bring our people in. Have them go home and sleep, but keep a patrol going near my house, no, that’s not enough. I want a couple of deputies sitting out in front of my house. If Clancy is alive, chances are he’s hiding in the forest. If he’s not badly hurt, he might double back.

    “Oh yeah, tell Dicker to bring his dogs over to my house first thing in the morning if Clancy hasn’t been found by then. The state police can keep looking tonight, those guys don’t deserve much sleep. One other thing, check in with every family within a five-mile radius of my house. Warn them. You got that?”
    “I already had Mary Lynn call all the neighbors. I do know what to do, Katie.”
    “He’ll try to steal a car if he’s able to.”
    “Yeah, we know that.”
    “He’s a dangerous man, Wade. Keep reminding everyone just how dangerous.”
    “Yes, I have, of course. Even though I’m sending out deputies to guard your house, Katie, you be careful, too. No telling what that moron will do.”
    “There’s something else, Wade—something very important—but I think I’ll let it wait until tomorrow morning when Agent Savich is back in the land of the living. You don’t need to worry about it now, Wade.”
    “Wait! Whoa, Katie, what do—”
    “Nah, you’ve got enough on your plate tonight, Wade, both you and Agent Hodges.” She smiled as she hung up. That should have him thinking and cursing about me not telling him something.
    She pushed away from the wall and walked to the waiting room. Her brain was fried, or very nearly.
    So Fatso had managed to get out of the van and into the forest before the sucker blew. Well, wasn’t that just peachy?
    Now she had to tell Miles, though she didn’t want to. She had to tell him, it was his right to help protect his child.
    It was time to herd her daughter and her guests home. Maybe they should just wait and go to Mother’s Very Best, just to be on the safe side. No, she was losing it. A headache started to burrow in over her left eye. Home would be safe. Home sounded like heaven right now, evenwith a boarded up front window and a burned-out van in the front yard.
    She walked into the small waiting room that prided itself on having the oldest Time magazines anywhere—most of them from the Watergate period in the seventies.
    Keely was wearing her pajamas, a robe, and bunny slippers over nice thick socks. Sam had on a pair of Katie’s gray sweats, with the legs rolled up more times than she could count, the long sleeves of her shirt pushed up as well, so thick it looked like he had tires around his arms. He had a pair of her socks on his feet. A nurse, Miles told her, had brought them each a couple of blankets and pillows.
    That would be Hilda Barnes, she told him. Hilda always took special care of any visiting children.
    Katie realized Miles was the only damp one in the waiting room.
    Sam was on his feet the instant he saw her. “How’s Uncle Dillon, Katie?”
    “He’s going to be just fine, Sam. He’ll be staying here tonight. Dr. Able just wants to make sure everything is okay.”
    Miles said, “You look sharp in your scrubs, Katie.” Actually, she looked rather ridiculous, her hair in a ratty wet ponytail, the scrubs hanging off her. And she looked valiant—a strange thing to think, but it was true. She leaned down to scratch her knee. If only he’d known, he would have offered to do the scratching for her.
    “They wouldn’t let me in with Dillon unless I got hosed down first. Here are my clothes, wrapped in this towel.”
    “Mama, I think you look cuter than Dr. Jonah.”
    “Let’s just keep that between us.”
    “Okay. Who is this man who needs to shave?”
    “You mean me, Keely?” Miles said, momentarily distracted. “You know who I am. Your mama needs some aspirin.”
    How did he know that?

    “No,” Keely said, “the man in the picture, in the magazine.”
    “Oh, that was President Nixon,” Katie said. “I was born just before he resigned, a very long time ago. When was it?”
    “In 1974,” Miles said. “I was just a bit younger than Sam.”
    “Does your head hurt, Katie?” Sam said, and looked up at her.
    “Just a little bit. Don’t worry about it. Miles, I hear there’s a bet on as to how fast Sherlock will get here. Savich told her not to come.”
    “Doesn’t matter,” Miles said. “When Sherlock’s on