Dark Rivers of the Heart

purse. Jesus. Maybe just her purse. My wallet is in the nightstand drawer at home, if she didn't think to bring it when. when they made her and the girls leave."
        "So Bonnie and I are putting up bail, and we don't want any argument about it," Darius said.
        Tick… tick… tick…
        Harris's entire face was numb. The back of his neck was numb, pebbled with gooseflesh. Numb and cold.
        Darius squeezed his brother's hands reassuringly once more, and then finally let go.
        Harris said, "How are jessica and I going to rent a place if we can't put together first month, last month, and security deposit?"
        "You'll move in with Bonnie and me for the duration. That's already been settled."
        "Your house isn't that big. You don't have room for four more."
        "Jessie and the girls are already with us. You're just one more.
        Sure, it'll be tight, but we'll be fine. Nobody'll mind if it's a bit of a squeeze.
        We're family. We're in this together."
        "But this might take months to get resolved. My God, it could take Years, couldn't it?"
        Tick… tick… tick…
        Later, as Darius was about to leave, he said, "I want you to think hard about enemies Harris. This isn't all just a mistake. This ok lanning, cunning, and contacts. Somewhere, you've got a smart and powerful enemy, whether you realize it or not. Think about it. If you come up with any names, that might help me."
        Saturday night, Harris shared a windowless four-bed cell with two alleged murderers and with a rapist who bragged about assaulting women in ten states. He slept only fitfully.
        Sunday night, he slept much better, only because he was by then utterly exhausted. Dreams tormented him. All were nightmares, and in each, sooner or later, there was a clock ticking, ticking.
        Monday, he was up at dawn, eager to be free. He was loath to let Darius and Bonnie tie up so much money to make his bail. Of course, he had no intention of fleeing jurisdiction, so they wouldn't lose their funds.
        And he had developed a prison claustrophobia that, if it continued to worsen, would soon be intolerable.
        Though his situation was dreadful, unthinkable, he nevertheless took some solace from the certainty that the worst was behind him.
        Everything had been taken away or soon would be taken. He was at the bottom, and in spite of the long fight ahead, he had nowhere to go but up.
        That was Monday morning. Early.
        At Caliente, Nevada, the federal highway angled north, but at Panaca they left it for a state route that turned east toward the Utah border.
        The rural highway carried them into higher land that had a stark, cauldron-of-creation quality, almost pre-Mesozoic, even though it was forested with pine and spruce.
        As crazy as it sounded, Spencer was nevertheless completely convinced by Valerie's fear of satellite surveillance. All was blue above, with no monstrous mechanical presences hovering like something out of Star Wars, but he was uncomfortably aware of being watched, mile by lonely mile.
        Regardless of the eye in the sky and the professional killers who might be enroute to Utah to intercept them, Spencer was ravenous. Two small cans of Vienna sausages had not satisfied his hunger. He ate cheese crackers and washed them down with a Coke.

    Behind the front seats, sitting erect in his narrow quarters, Rocky was so enthusiastic about Valerie's way with a Rover that he expressed no interest in the cheese crackers. He grinned broadly. His head bobbed up and down, up and down.
        "What's with the dog?" she asked.
        "He likes the way you drive. He has a need for speed." most of the time."
        "I just found out about this speed thing myself," Spencer said.
        "Whys he so afraid of everything?"
        "He was abused before he wound up in the pound, before I brought him home. I don't know what's in his past."
        "Well, it's nice to see him enjoying himself so much."
        Rocky's head bobbed enthusiastically.
        As tree shadows flickered across the roadway, Spencer said, "I don't know what's in your past, either." Instead of responding, she eased down on the accelerator, but Spencer persisted: "Who are you running from?
        Now they're my enemies too. I have a right to know."
        She stared intently at the road. "They don't have a name."
        "What-a secret