Dan felt the slight shiver that went through Carly and followed her glance. The grim santos watching from the hearth and the walls and the table were considered collectibles by many and outright art by a few. Whoever had gathered or created these figures had been drawn to the horror and pain of the martyrdom that had preceded sainthood. Less grotesque than gargoyles, more raw than the usual Crucifixion portrayals, the santos haunted the room, describing pain and treachery and death far better than the minister's bland words.

Deliberately Dan laced his fingers through Carly's and squeezed lightly, silently telling her that he was there. She gave him a quick glance and squeezed back. She didn't know why the santos made her uneasy, she only knew they did.

Finally the minister closed his Bible and went to the governor, and then to Winifred, saying something too soft to be overheard.

"Just a few more minutes," Dan murmured against Carly's hair.

She nodded.

After a few fumbles, Winifred released the brake on her wheelchair and turned it to face the room. She nodded once.

Alma stood and hurried forward to remove the ribbons and pick up the tray of small cups.

Carly saw that the cups were filled to the top with something too thick to be coffee but just as dark. There were nine cups now, not eleven. They were laid out in the design of a diamond. She guessed that the missing cups had to do with the two missing Quintrells, but she couldn't be sure. In any case, this part of the ceremony certainly felt more pagan than modern Christian.

"We Castillos have a tradition to ensure the passage of the soul to God." Winifred paused, drew from the oxygen mask, and continued. "It began a thousand years ago as a stirrup cup for the dead." Another breath. "But now it is a large shot glass. The modern tongue finds the ancient brew bitter." Another breath. Her voice strengthened into something close to a command. "Yet still we drink it. As we drink, we pray for the dead. Every drop drunk, every prayer prayed, helps my beloved sister. Every drop not drunk makes the devil smile."

Alma offered one tip of the diamond to Winifred. She took the cup, drained it, turned it upside down to show that it was empty, and put the cup back on the tray in its place. Then she folded her hands in prayer. Alma went to the governor and gestured toward the next row of the diamond. He looked warily at the small cups, then followed Winifred's actions and took one. The taste must have been terrible, because he visibly fought not to spit it back out. Grimacing, he swallowed, upended the cup, and put it facedown in its place on the tray.

Alma worked her way through the small group, following the pattern decreed by Sylvia's closest kin, handing out cups and waiting for them to be emptied and put upside down to re-create the diamond. Carly braced herself for her own turn.

"Don't taste it," Dan said very quietly in her ear. "Just throw it to the back of your throat and swallow."

"Have you done this before?"

"No, but I've sat around some strange campfires."

And then Alma was in front of them. There were three untouched cups left, forming a triangle. Out of old habit, Dan reached across the bottom of the triangle and chose his own cup rather than take what was handed out. Alma started to object that the diamond was supposed to be taken in order, following the governor's choice.

It was too late. Dan had already tossed back the contents, turned the cup upside down to show that it was empty, replaced it, and closed his eyes.

Alma looked at Winifred, who had coached her in the correct ritual. The old curandera's eyes were still closed. Melissa, who had repeated Winifred's coaching, was still struggling with the bitter brew and hadn't noticed anything amiss. With a sigh of relief that the breach of ritual hadn't been noticed, Alma offered the tray to Carly.

Two cups left.

Pretend its a raw oyster, Carly told herself. If you can swallow a mouthful of cold snot, you can do this.

Carly took the next to last cup and managed to get the contents down without choking.

Alma took the final cup, drained it, shuddered violently, and sat down again.

The room was so quiet Carly was certain everyone could hear her tongue scraping against her teeth as she tried to get rid of the taste. Thank God stirrup cups went out of vogue. She couldn't have managed a second swallow.

The sound of the helicopter revving up signaled an end to the gathering, at least as far as the governor was concerned. He shook hands all around-even Carly and Dan this time-and left.

The two of them went to Winifred, saw that she was still praying for her sister, and waited.

They waited for a long time. When the old woman finally raised her head, Dr. Sands and the minister had already gone. Only the household staff remained.

The tears in Winifred's eyes made Carly understand how futile words were. Yet they had to be said anyway, heard anyway, while everyone knew that words couldn't describe the emptiness death left behind.

"I'm sorry," Carly said gently.

Winifred nodded. "Tomorrow."

Carly understood that Winifred didn't want to talk now. Carly hadn't expected her to.

"I'll walk you to your car," Dan said to Carly.

He didn't say anything until they were out of the suite. He bent, picked up the cartons of photos they'd left outside Sylvia's room, and faced Carly.

"I don't want you staying here alone," he said.

She didn't answer for the simple reason that she wasn't wild about the idea herself. "Nobody knew my car was fixed until I showed up here, so…" She shrugged.

"So nobody had enough lead time to get fancy with rats and paint, is that it?"

She nodded.

"Bullshit," he said.

"Hey, you checked my room out and found nothing."

"That was almost two hours ago."

"Everyone was here for the service. Anyway, I already told Melissa that I was going to drive back to town tonight. I don't feel right about staying here when the household has had so much sorrow."

Dan knew Carly was right. He also knew he didn't want to leave her alone, even just to drive her little SUV down the mountain. The part of his mind that kept adding up things was heading toward a bottom line that he couldn't read yet but already knew he didn't like.

With a muttered curse, he followed her toward the outside door.

"You know what I'd like?" Carly asked after a minute.

"A toothbrush?"

"There isn't one big enough." She grimaced and swallowed while something acid tried to crawl back up her throat. Whatever the potion had been, her stomach wasn't thrilled with it.

"I've got water in the truck," he said. "As soon as we're out of sight you can gargle and spit as much as you want."

"You're a mind reader. I've always liked that about you."

"I'll remind you of that."

He walked with her into the icy air. As they headed for her SUV, the governor's helicopter leaped up, pivoted around an invisible center, and gathered speed down the valley.

Carly looked around the ranchland. Houses might be built and abandoned. Cattle might be born and grow and be sold. The valley would be grazed or plowed or left fallow, and the mountains would watch over all of it, unchanging. The land survived. Man didn't. For all the power the Senator and his wife had wielded while alive, in death little remained but the ranch.

For the first time Carly began to understand Winifred's obsession with Castillo land.

"What?" Dan asked.

"Just thinking."

He waited.

"Nothing is left of Winifred's family and their ambitions but the land," Carly said as they walked toward her SUV. "The ranch is as close to immortality as the Castillos will ever get, and Governor Quintrell has put it up for sale."

Dan nodded, started to say something, then thought better of it.