By the light of the moon

said, 'Cake please.'
    Even if served in a wedge instead of a square, the single curved
end of a piece of cake could be flattened easily. Otherwise, a
wedge was satisfyingly angular, not curvy, not shapey. Shep loved
cake.
    'We'll get cake,' Dylan lied. 'But first we're going to the
men's room, buddy.'
    'Pee?' Shep asked.
    'Pee,' Dylan confirmed quietly, determined to avoid making a
scene.
    'Shep doesn't need to pee.'
    Fire laws and a need to receive deliveries guaranteed the
existence of a back door; but no doubt they would have to go
through the kitchen to reach it, a route that would assure too much
commotion even if they were permitted to take it. They dared not
leave by the front door, for fear of being spotted by the faux
golfers. Only one exit remained.
    'You may not get another chance for a while, buddy. Better go
now,' Dylan explained.
    'No pee.'
    Their waitress arrived. 'Will that be everything?'
    'Cake,' said Shep.
    'Could we have menus to look at the desserts?' Dylan asked.
    'Cake.'
    'I thought you were leaving,' the waitress said.
    'Just going to the men's room,' Jilly assured her. When the
waitress frowned, Jilly added, 'The men's and the ladies'.'
    'Cake.'
    Withdrawing their lunch ticket from a pocket of her apron, the
waitress said, 'We have some wonderful cakes.' She extracted a
pencil from her elaborately piled and pinned red hair.
'Toasted-coconut, Black Forest, lemon, and lemon-walnut.'
    'We don't all want cake,' Dylan said. 'We'll need menus.'
    'Cake,' said Shepherd.
    As the waitress went to get menus, Dylan said, 'Come on,
Shep.'
    'Cake. Toasted-coconut—'
    'Pee first, Shep.'
    '—Black Forest—'
    By now the men in the Suburban would be at the registration desk
in the motel office.
    '—lemon—'
    If they were carrying law-enforcement credentials, they would be
presenting them to the desk clerk.
    '—and lemon-walnut.'
    If they had no credentials, they would be using intimidation to
get the information they wanted.
    'No pee,' Dylan quietly informed Shep, 'no cake.'
    Licking his lips in anticipation of the cake, Shep considered
this ultimatum.
    'Dylan,' Jilly said softly but urgently. 'The window.'
    The second black Suburban had crossed the street from the other
motel. It parked behind the SUV that already stood in front of the
registration office next door to the coffee shop.
    Unless given absolutely no other option, Dylan didn't want to
seize his brother by the arm and haul him out of the booth. In that
event, the kid would probably come, although his cooperation was
not a certainty. He wouldn't resist violently, but if he set his
mind to it, he could become as immovable as a stubborn octopus.
    Carrying menus, the waitress began the return trip from the
hostess station.
    'No pee, no cake?' Shepherd asked.
    'No pee, no cake.'
    'Pee, then cake?' Shep asked.
    'Pee, then cake,' Dylan agreed.
    Shepherd slid out of the booth.
    Arriving with the menus just as Shepherd stood up, dropping them
on the table, the waitress asked, 'Can I get you coffee?'
    Dylan saw the front door open. Sun glared on that moving glass
panel, and from this oblique angle, he couldn't see who might be
entering until they stepped inside.
    'Two coffees,' Jilly said.
    An elderly couple crossed the threshold. They were probably in
their eighties. Not stooped, spry enough, but surely not
assassins.
    'Milk,' Shep mumbled.
    'Two coffees and one milk,' Dylan told the waitress.
    The glass that the milk came in would have a round mouth; but
the milk itself wasn't round. It wasn't shapey, but shapeless, and
Shepherd never harbored a prejudice against any food solely because
of the design of the container in which it might be served.
    'Cake,' Shepherd said as, head down, he followed Dylan between
the tables, with Jilly at the end of their procession. 'Cake. Pee,
then cake. Pee, then cake.'
    The restrooms lay off a hall at the back of the coffee shop.
    Ahead of Dylan, a burly bearded man in a tank-top shirt sported
enough colorful tattoos just on his exposed arms and neck, and on
his bald head, to qualify as an attraction in a sideshow. He went
into the men's room.
    As they gathered in the hallway, still in the line of sight of
some of the diners in the restaurant, Dylan said to Jilly, 'Check
the women's room.'
    She stepped into the lavatory and returned before the door had
time to fall shut behind her. 'Nobody's in here.'
    Dylan urged his brother to step into the women's restroom with
Jilly, and followed close behind him.
    The doors stood