“Saw what?”

Tori seemed not to have heard the question.

“I couldn’t help walking toward the fence and staring at them. My mother always took me to church on Sunday, and I thought that when the preacher told us about heaven, this is what he must have been talking about.

“My father ordered me to get in the car, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I couldn’t bear to stop looking at what was out there. He wanted to know what the hell I thought I was seeing. I tried to explain, but all he said was something about a damned fool kid’s imagination. I remember trying to push him away when he picked me up and carried me to the car. I shouted and pounded him. He literally threw me into the back seat.”

“I’m sorry,” Page said. “Maybe it was a good thing that he eventually left.”

When Tori didn’t continue, Page regretted his interruption, but then he realized that she’d stopped only because she’d renewed her attention on the darkness.

“There!” a woman at the fence shouted.

“Yes!” a man joined in.

Another woman pointed. “Five of them!”

“I don’t see anything!”

Disgusted, the teenagers got into the pickup truck and drove away. A half-dozen people wandered toward the bus, but a surprising number remained, staring toward the darkness.

“There’s one on the left!” someone exclaimed.

“What am I supposed to be looking at?” someone else asked.

Page wondered the same thing.

Again Tori spoke, still not looking at him. “I’d forgotten about this place until two days ago.”

“The day you started to drive to your mother’s house,” Page said. The words he almost used were, The day you left me.

“I’d gone a little beyond El Paso. It was six in the evening. I was at a truck stop, studying a road map while I drank a cup of coffee. I still had a long way to drive to get to San Antonio, and I wondered if I might need to stop somewhere for the night. Interstate 10 goes south east along the Mexican border until it gets to a town called

Esperanza, where the highway cuts directly east to San Antonio. I figured Esperanza might be a good place to stop.” She paused. “Interesting name for a town.”

“‘Esperanza’?” Page had lived in the Southwest long enough to know that the word was Spanish for “hope.”

Tori smiled at something in the darkness. Page waited, beginning to feel afraid. A minute later, she continued. Her voice was so calm that it was as if she were reading a bedtime story to a child.

“I looked toward the bottom of the map to find the inches-to- miles scale and figure out how much farther I needed to go. But as my eyes drifted past the names of towns, one of them caught my attention: Rostov. It must have been tucked away in my memory all these years. Amazing.

“Suddenly that night came back to me as vividly as if it had happened yesterday. I remembered that the roadside toilet had a sign on the door: ‘Property of Rostov County.’ I remembered coming out of the toilet and seeing what was in the darkness past the fence. I remembered how angry my father got when he didn’t understand what I was talking about and threw me into the car. I could feel the tears in my eyes and how I wiped them and stared through the back window to- ward the darkness until I couldn’t see anything out there anymore as we drove away.

“We drove so long that eventually I fell asleep in the back seat. Even then, I dreamed about them.”

“There!” someone at the fence exclaimed, pointing.

“So I finished my coffee and folded the map and got in the car,” Tori said. “When I reached Esperanza, instead of stopping for the night, I kept driving, but I didn’t turn east on Interstate 10 to go to San Antonio. Instead I took a county road and kept following it southeast along the border. The sun went down, but I kept driving until I got here. This observation platform didn’t exist back then-there were just the toilets. I was afraid I’d discover that my memory had tricked me, that what I’d seen that night had been only a damned fool kid’s imagination, exactly as my father had insisted.”

“There’s another one!” someone exclaimed.

Tori smiled toward where a man pointed, and she fell silent again. In a while, she continued, “It was late. Hardly anybody was around. I can’t describe the relief I felt when I stepped out of the car and looked past that fence and saw that what I’d remembered-and what I realize now I’ve been dreaming about all these years-was real. I came over and sat on this bench, in the same spot where I’m sitting now and the same spot where I sat last night, and I didn’t want to do anything but stay here the rest of the night and look at what I’d seen when I was ten.

“My life might have been so much different if my father had just allowed me to watch a little longer.”

“Different?” Page asked. “How?”

Tori didn’t answer. That sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with the night air.

“Watch as long as you want,” Page said.

“I will.”

“I didn’t come here to stop you,” he tried to assure her.

“I know. Besides, you can’t.”

Page looked over at Costigan, who continued to lean protectively against the nearby post. He spread his hands as if to say, Are you starting to get the idea?

But Page didn’t get anything, not anything at all. He was mystified.

And afraid. He worried that Tori was having some kind of breakdown.

If so, he realized, looking around silently, apparently a lot of other people were having the same breakdown.

“Tori…”

She continued smiling wistfully toward the darkness.

“I love you,” he said. The words came out before he realized. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said them. He didn’t get a reaction.

“Tori, tell me what you’re seeing. Help me see it, too.”

“I don’t think you can,” she said.

“But how do you know?”

“For the same reason I left.”

The stark acknowledgment of what Page had been dreading made him feel as if a fist had struck his stomach. He remained silent for several long minutes, trying to recover his equilibrium. Trying to think of something he could say that would make things better.

“If you teach me, I can learn,” he said. “Whatever it is I’ve done wrong, I can correct it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s no blame in being what you are. Or in my being who I am.”

Page turned toward the darkness, desperate to understand what Tori was talking about. Even though many of the people in the crowd pointed, all he saw were the night-shrouded grassland, the brilliant stars in the sky, and the isolated headlights on the road to the right.

Which of us is crazy? he wondered.

He strained his eyes, trying to adjust to the night and decipher the darkness. He was reminded of something his father had shown him when he was fifteen. Because of his father’s skills as a master mechanic in the Air Force, the family had been relocated to numerous bases over the years, including some in Germany, South Korea, and the Philip- pines. One of those had been MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida.

On an August Sunday, Page’s father had made a rare effort to spend time with his family by taking Page and his mother to the famed Tampa aquarium. They wandered from tank to tank, peering through thick glass walls at various exhibits: sharks, manta rays, moray eels- his father enjoyed looking at anything dangerous-and various schools of brilliantly colored exotic species. But the space behind one glass wall appeared empty except for water, sand, rocks, aquatic plants, and part of a replica of a sunken ship.

“I guess the aquarium’s getting ready to stock it with something,” Page said, quickly bored, turning away.

“No, it’s already stocked,” his father replied.

“With what? Nothing’s moving in there. It’s empty.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of life in there.”

“You mean the plants.”

“No. I mean cuttlefish.”