As midnight approached, other cars began pulling up, parents fetching their kids. Crow hung back, aware that he was all too visible, a white guy picking up someone who obviously was not his son or younger brother. Ed was right. They had to be careful about drawing attention to themselves.

It was only when the bouncer, the one who earlier had denied him entrance to the club, padlocked the door that Crow realized that Lloyd was never coming out.

PART THREE. TINY TOWNS

SUNDAY

23

“Tess? It’s Whitney. Just FYI-an IRS agent called out of the blue, wants to go over the foundation’s books. Not a problem, but I thought it was awfully coincidental.”

“Hey, hon, it’s Kitty. This man-I didn’t get his name-came by the bookstore late, just before closing. He wanted to talk to me about my arrest outside Supermax, when I was protesting the Thanos execution. He had a photo. Of me, that is. He’s tall, African-American, close-cropped hair, maybe thirty. He would be handsome if he smiled.”

“Tess, it’s your mother-” But that one she answered.

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?” As if Tess didn’t know. She had been getting these calls and messages all weekend.

“Not much. A strange man just rang our doorbell, said we should talk to you about what you were ‘into.’ An FBI agent, very nice, but I let him know in no uncertain terms that I work for NSA and I am not intimidated by such tactics, that he had another think coming if he thought-”

“Great, Mom. Is Dad there? Did they talk to him?’

Her father picked up another extension, but Tess could still hear her mother breathing on the line.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey.”

“So who talked to you?”

“IRS.”

“You worried?”

“Not really.”

Patrick was the world’s most laconic Irishman, but Tess was expert at listening to what he didn’t say, and the anxiety in his silences was chilling. It was one thing to destroy her own life by keeping her promises to Crow and Lloyd. And even Whitney had sort of signed up for this. But her parents hadn’t. She wondered how long it would be until Crow’s parents were called, what insinuating questions would be poured into their ears. That would be unfortunate on many levels. For one thing it would alert them to the fact that their son was missing.

She assured her parents that everything would be fine and hoped it wasn’t a lie. She then called Tyner, told him to be on standby, certain that the three caballeros, as she now thought of them, would come for her again. And, sure enough, Jenkins and Collins arrived just after eleven.

“Back to the courthouse?” she asked, trying for chipper but coming closer to chirpy, her voice high and crackly as a teenage boy’s.

“For now,” Jenkins said. “But don’t be surprised if you end the day in federal lockup.”

“What, you’re going to charge me with a crime?”

“Probably,” Jenkins said, expressionless. Collins simply smiled a terrible smile.

Crow had driven around Salisbury until dawn, but he couldn’t imagine where Lloyd had gone, not in the short term. The kid had probably headed back to Baltimore, catching a ride with someone who lived west of Salisbury, planning to hitchhike the rest of the way. Scared for his life just five days ago, he was now bored out of his mind and wanted to go home. With someone like Lloyd, boredom trumped mortality. Father Rob had warned Crow about that. It had probably been a plan, using the club as a ruse to get away.

Of course he couldn’t have known, going in, that he and Crow would be separated. But he had seen the opportunity once it presented itself, concocted a plan on the spot. Lloyd was smart that way.

Stupid, too.

At least Crow could go home now. Or would, once he called Tess and told her Lloyd was missing. He hoped that information wouldn’t make her waver in her resolve to protect Lloyd. Then again, if Lloyd was stupid enough to go back to Baltimore, maybe he didn’t deserve their protection anymore.

Thing was, the police couldn’t take care of Lloyd even if the kid would allow it. Wasn’t that why he had come to Crow in the first place? Stupid, self-destructive kid. If he didn’t care about his life, why should Crow?

He took out the new cell phone and dialed Tess’s home phone again. The phone rang twice, then kicked into voice mail, a sign that she was on the other line and ignoring the call-waiting signal. He started to text-message her cell but didn’t think it was a good idea to relay the news about Lloyd in such a fashion. He called the house one more time, just in case. No answer now. Where could Tess be on a Sunday morning? A creature of routine, she should have walked the dogs and grabbed her usual coffee by now. Even with the return of mild weather and the reopening of the boathouse, she never went out on the water on Sunday mornings. She preferred to go at day’s end, in the last hour before sunset, when the light was kind to the eyes and the weekend boat traffic had thinned.

Where could she be? Where could Lloyd be? He thought of mice and men, he thought of Of Mice and Men, he thought of Lennie and the rabbits, and the source for the book’s title. The best-laid plans of mice and men often aft a-gley.

Well, here he was, living large at the goddamn intersection of Aft and A-gley.

Lloyd had slept outside many times, in weather more biting than this, yet he never knew a berth as cold and hard as the field he’d found near what appeared to be a highway. Once the sun came up, it was a little better, and he burrowed down into the narrow groove. A furrow. The word came back to him, unbidden, a lesson from long ago. Furrows and Pilgrims and planting fish heads to make better corn. Satchmo? Sasquatch? Something like that. But as the sounds of traffic grew louder on the road, he decided to get up and get going.

Where, was the only question. Where should he go? Where could he go? The question was complicated by the fact that he had missed the sunrise, so he wasn’t exactly sure which way was east and which way was west. And even once he figured it out, which way would he choose? He was a lot closer to the amusement park than to Baltimore, had to be, but it was hard to imagine he could walk all that way. It had taken Crow almost an hour to drive it.

Baltimore was farther still. But once he got there, at least he would have his life back. No more working for nothing. No more of Crow’s conversation, which just drove him nuts sometimes. He was the talkingest guy, although he did know some interesting stuff. The older guy, Ed, at least he knew how to chill, just sit back and be quiet. He was almost cool, although Crow said he was an ex-cop, which meant he wasn’t cool. It had made Lloyd nervous, being so dependent on a cop, ex or no.

He walked along the road, determined to let someone else decide where he would end up. He’d stick out his thumb and catch a ride, and wherever he went, that’s where he would be. That was as good a way to plan as any. Just let life take you where it goes. Hadn’t that been the way he always lived?

Come to think of it, wasn’t that why his life was so fucked up?

He stumbled along the soft, crumbling shoulder, whipping around when he heard cars approaching, but no one slowed. That didn’t really surprise him, black man with leaves and shit in his hair. What did shock him was the minivan that rolled to a stop next to him, big black woman at the wheel, six kids packed into the two rows of seats, all in churchgoing clothes.

“Where you trying to get to, son?” she asked, her voice all sweetness. The kind tone surprised him more than anything. Somehow he had figured she would yell at him, make a lesson of him for all those kids. Look at this stupid nigger walking down the highway. This is what happens if you don’t go to church regular.