Praying for Sleep

went through the woods. The track was easy to follow now, with abundant ground scent in the moist forest. The dog’s excitement and the uncanny atmosphere of the woods at night urged them forward in a kind of dazed ecstasy, and they could do nothing but give in to this lust. They crashed through the brush. Hrubek could’ve heard them coming from a hundred yards away but there was nothing to be done about it. They couldn’t have both stealth and speed, and they chose the latter.
     
    Michael watched her carefully, irritated that she was crying so much. It made him very anxious. The blond woman didn’t speak. All the points of her face—her nose and chin and cheekbones—were red from the silent tears. She quivered and shredded a paper napkin between her fingers while Michael paced. “I had to take down your telephone. Stop that crying. The line’s sure to be tapped anyway.”
    “What,” she sobbed, “are you going to do to me?”
    He walked through the living room, his huge muddy feet pounding on the boards. “This is a nice place. Stop crying! I like your eyes. You don’t have masks on them. Where did you get it? The house, I’m speaking of.”
    She glanced at the small cap on his head. “What are you—?” He repeated his question sharply and she stammered, “My mama died and she left it to me. I’ve got a sister. It’s half hers.” As if he intended to steal it, she added, “We own it free and clear.”
    Michael lifted the Irish cap by the brim, courteously tipping it to her. He rubbed his hand over his smooth head. In the bright light a residue of the blue ink was still visible. He saw her staring at the cap as he replaced it. He smiled. “Fashionable, isn’t it?”
    “I’m sorry?”
    He frowned. “My hat. Fashionable. Isn’t it?”
    “Yes,” she exclaimed. “Very. Extremely.”
    “My car rolled over and over and over. She was a good car while she lasted.” He walked closer and examined her body. He thought it was strange that although she was a woman she didn’t frighten him. Maybe because she was so frail. He could lift her with one hand and could snap her neck as easily as he had the raccoon’s earlier in the evening. What’s that smell? Oh, it’s woman. The smell of woman. This brought back an indistinct and troubling memory. He felt darkness around him, claustrophobia, fear. Rocks and water. Bad people. What was it? His anxiety notched up a few degrees. He also found he had a fierce erection. He sat down so that she wouldn’t notice.
    The wind slammed against the windows and the sound of the rain grew louder. The clatter of muskets, he thought. Lead balls cracking apart a thousand heads . . . He covered his ears at this unnerving sound. After a moment he realized that she was staring at him.
    “People are after me,” he said.
    “You’re a convict ?” she whispered. “You escaped from the prison over in Hamlin?”
    “Nice try. Don’t expect to get anything out of me.
    You know too much as it is.”
    She shivered as he leaned forward and stroked her fine hair. “That’s nice,” he muttered. “And you’re not wearing a fucking hat. Good . . . Good.”
    “Don’t hurt me, please. I’ll give you money. Anything . . .”
    “Give me a penny.”
    “I have some savings. About three thousand but it’s in the bank. You could meet me there at nine tomorrow. You’re welcome to—”
    Michael roared, “A penny !”
    She dug frantically into her purse. He looked over her shoulder. “You don’t have a microphone in there? A panic button or anything?”
    She looked mystified then whispered, “No. I’m getting you the penny like you asked.”
    Guilty, Michael said, “Well, you can’t be too careful.”
    He held out his massive hands and she dropped the coin into his palm. He held it up behind her head. “What seven-letter word is on the penny?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Guess,” he said petulantly.
    She wrung her hands together. “ E Pluribus Unum. In God We Trust. Legal Tender. No. United States. Oh, God, I can’t think!” Then, sotto voce, she began murmuring the Lord’s Prayer.
    “It’s right behind seven-letter Abraham Lincoln.” Without looking at the coin he said, “The word is right behind him, seven letters, like the barrel of a gun pointed at his head.”
    He poked her scalp with a blunt finger. She closed her eyes and whispered, “I don’t know.”
    Michael said, “ ‘Liberty.’ ” He dropped the penny on the floor. “I’m pretty