The Thanatos Syndrome

gotten a dose of heavy sodium?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t.”
    â€œWhy should I believe you?”
    Van Dorn looks at me level-eyed. “If I had known it, would I have been so curious about her amazing talent for computing probabilities in bridge?”
    â€œWell—no.” He’s right.
    Van Dorn has seen Lucy. Her cheek is hard and high. I think she’s seen us.
    Van Dorn grabs me and pulls me playfully close—in men’s style of talking at the approach of women and before they come within earshot. “Just suppose, Tom, we could combine the high sexuality of the Don and Einstein without the frivolity of the Don or the repressed Jewish sexuality of Einstein—who needs heavy sodium?”
    â€œRight,” I say. “Where’s Claude Bon?”
    Van Dorn turns. We watch the three approach. Lucy, Tommy and Margaret, the children moseying along rapt, regardless, normal; Lucy stone-faced and stiff, headed straight for the truck without looking at us though we’re fifty feet away.
    â€œOh. I forgot to tell you. Claude’s varsity now and they’re playing Baton Rouge High, the state champs, and I kid you not, B.R. is in for the surprise of the year.”
    We meet Lucy at the truck. Van Dorn opens the door for her.
    â€œHowdy, Miss Lucy.”
    She doesn’t answer, but Van Dorn calls to me over the cab of the truck. “You can pick up Claude later tonight. Or I’ll send him over. Let me know, folks.”
    I catch sight of Lucy’s face as she stoops to get in. It is welted, almost ugly. A rope of muscle twists her black eyebrows. Her cheek is pulled back, freckles dark plum against pale skin. She says only, “Get in,” to Tommy and Margaret, pushing them ahead of her, then backs up to let them in the middle, then gets in and slams the door. She’s driving.
    We leave. She looks straight ahead, face set. The pickup is old and big. There is room for the four of us on the broad front seat. In the rearview mirror I catch sight of Van Dorn. He has resumed his head-ducking, hands-in-pockets sauntering.

12. WE DRIVE DOWN the River Road in silence. The Ranger four-door pickup passes, but the driver and passenger don’t seem to notice us.
    â€œWell,” I say at last.
    Lucy is still looking straight ahead. “Where are we going?” she says.
    â€œTo Popeyes to get my car.”
    â€œCould we get some drumsticks?” asks Margaret.
    â€œI want a Happy Meal,” says Tommy. “You get a baby transformer in it.”
    â€œOkay. Well, Lucy?”
    â€œI’ll tell you later.”
    â€œI think you’d better tell me now.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI think we might be having company soon.” I am watching the Ranger pickup.
    â€œYes, but—”
    â€œThere is not much time,”
    â€œHow do you mean?”
    â€œDid you see that pickup that just passed?”
    â€œSure. They were locals, a couple of good old boys, complete with gun rack.”
    â€œI’m afraid not.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œGood old Louisiana boys don’t wear business suits like the driver or bib overalls like the passenger. And they wouldn’t be caught dead with an under-and-over in the gun rack.”
    â€œAn under-and-over?”
    â€œThat was a new .410 shotgun with a .22 on top. It’s a prop.”
    â€œYou must have seen them before.”
    â€œI have. Locals might have a 12-gauge or a .30-.30 deer rifle, but not that.”
    â€œI see.” She’s gripping the wheel, frowning, knuckles white.
    â€œI think you’d better tell me now.”
    â€œI can’t in present company.” Lucy is relaxing a bit, but her face is still heavy and she has not looked at me.
    â€œI want a Coke-cola too,” says Tommy.
    â€œThey don’t have Cokes at Popeyes, but you can get a diet Sprite,” says Margaret.
    â€œI don’t want a diet Sprite,” says Tommy.
    â€œYou’re going to have to tell me. Tell me medically,” I say. “Did you examine some kids?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow about this pair?”
    â€œNo, but I think they’re all right.”
    â€œThe others?”
    â€œYes, the others.”
    â€œLucy, how many children did you examine?” She wants me to ask questions. She seems to be having trouble concentrating.
    â€œAh, about six. Yes, six.” Again she falls silent.
    â€œYou shouldn’t drink regular