“They’ll let you hold them.”

Cradling a bird in each hand, they stole away.

On the far side of the hospital, as firemen, police, animal control people, and hospital maintenance personnel hurried through a loading door with a variety of fish, bird, and butterfly nets, a maintenance lady in coveralls and billed cap walked by them carrying a broken lamp. She dropped the lamp into a Dumpster beside the loading dock, then continued toward the street, not looking back.

chapter

53

Rancher Jack Wright never heard from or saw the weird scientists again, which was fine with him; it was part of the deal. As for the 35.76 concrete blocks, they also were part of the deal. He hauled them away to use in a new pigsty, leaving that isolated little piece of his ranch looking as if no one had ever been there—if anyone even cared to look.

On Saturday evening at about seven, Dane stepped through the back door into his kitchen. The place was quiet.

“Hello?” he called, but there was no answer.

He walked through the house, checking the living room, the downstairs guest room and bath, the rooms upstairs. He stopped by his closet where Mandy’s costumes and wardrobe still hung neatly, touching the sleeve of the blue gown. Passing by his dresser, he studied a recent photo portrait; she was still so lovely.

He checked his answering machine. No messages. Well, that was part of the plan, cell and land phone silence until they knew which way the winds were blowing, whether the bad guys were listening.

He drove to the Quik Stop on Highway 95 to use the pay phone. Somewhere in Las Vegas, in a hotel room, a rented office, perhaps the home of one of Arnie’s friends, a telephone rang, but no one answered. He rechecked the number Arnie gave him and dialed again. Still no answer. He returned the receiver to the cradle less than gently, then sighed, resigning himself to a little more waiting, a little more not knowing.

He returned to the ranch, carried in his luggage, and then brought in Mandy’s four doves in their cage. They were tired, ready to sleep, so he set them in the utility room with the light off so they could call it a night.

Shirley had left all his mail in a pile on the kitchen counter and a note catching him up on the spraying she’d done, getting a new drive belt for the lawn mower, replacing the bulbs in the shop with the brighter wattage he wanted, having Susan the housekeeper skip a week and … blah blah blah, thank you, Shirley, he was too tired, too edgy to read the rest.

He fixed himself a bowl of oat flakes, something quick and easy, and settled in front of his computer to see if he could get any news.

The EPA had taken immediate interest in the “hazardous waste spill” in that vacant lot. A remediation crew showed up within an hour, cordoned off the area, and worked through the night to sanitize it, replacing six inches of topsoil and hydroseeding grass. The agency also took over the subbasement of the hospital, declaring those floors an environmental hazard and sealing them off. Dane had to wonder why a hospital was allowed to remain open sitting on top of an environmental hazard, but of course there was no explanation.

Public outcry prevented any killing of the doves, so they were being captured to be sold on the Internet, distributed to pet stores, employed by local magicians, adopted by bird lovers from all over the country. White doves were free for the catching and selling dirt cheap in Las Vegas.

As for deaths, casualties, missing persons, even what became of Mandy Whitacre, the newspeople had nothing, and the government was strangely, silently uninvolved.

Dane sighed and let his head drop. He didn’t know, would probably never know, what Parmenter’s “contingency plan” was, but if Dane threw Mandy’s collective mass off, there would have been only one way to counterbalance it. He probably would never see the venerable scientist again.

The Orpheus Hotel Casino had already booked another act for the big room in the aftermath of the great and mysterious tragedy: Gabriel’s Magic, featuring the famous television magician Preston Gabriel, who just happened to have some time available. Well, that worked. The Orpheus got a spike in name recognition no amount of money could buy and a great show besides. Now Dane didn’t feel quiteso bad.

He closed the computer and rubbed his eyes, so very tired. To stay out of airports where he might be seen or looked for, he’d driven Preston’s Wrangler from Vegas to Salt Lake City, where he slept in a cheap room, then drove all day Saturday to get home … to an empty house, and no word.

He tried to sleep that night and finally dropped off. The telephone let him sleep; it never made a sound.

Sunday morning the weather was cheerful, a rare occurrence for March in Idaho. It helped. There wasn’t a swelling bud or a new blade of grass in sight, but it helped. Dane checked the answering machine again—it was a little irrational, but he might have missed something. No messages.

All right. He’d take another trip down to the Quik Stop and try the number again. He grabbed his coat from the closet—

A cooing from the utility room stopped him. Oh, brother. Can’t it wait?

Well …

If all things were ordinary, he would have left them there until he got back, but these were not just four little doves among many, these were Bonkers, Carson, Lily, and Maybelle. They were stars, ultimate aviators, and most of all, heroes. He saw them fly with Mandy through the whole thing and it tugged at his heart like crazy. However things turned out, he owed them.

And, of course, there was Mandy. She’d want them well taken care of.

He brought them into the kitchen and they were glad to see him, sidestepping back and forth on their perches, chirping, bobbing around. He gave them some breakfast—fresh seeds, water, celery tops from the refrigerator—and leaned on his elbows watching them scarf it all down. “I wonder if you guys even have a clue what you did.”

They just kept eating, cooing, and chirping.

He shrugged. All in a day’s work. Another day, another seed, another leaf of celery.

They needed to get out of this cage. It seemed to Dane like living in a hotel room, out of a suitcase. They needed to be home in their coop, where they had plenty of room to move and fly around. “Okay, guys, let’s go.”

The dove coop was a temporary and adequate installation inside the shop building, just the right home for the doves until spring warmed things up and they could spend more time outside. The shop building was just a short walk down the path toward Mandy’s Meadow.

The morning sun made it a pleasant walk—warm colors, warmth on Dane’s south shoulder, the snow all gone, and a little steam coming off the barn roof. Some crocuses were coming up. The doves were fluttering, looking all around, excited.

He opened the door to the shop and went inside.

“Wow! You remember this place, don’t you?” They were really hopping and chirping, more agitated than he expected. They must really be glad to be home.

The cage door flipped open.

“ What?Hey, whoa, whoa, don’t—!”

They crowded through it, jostling, bumping, climbing over each other.

In all his effort to keep them in their cage he didn’t notice he’d left the shop door open.

“No! No no no no no!”

If it had been a movie with somebody else climbing the walls and grabbing the air trying to catch four ultimate aviators, Dane would have gotten the biggest laugh out of it, but it wasn’t and he wasn’t. He could have sworn they were working as a team, faking him out until they all got out the door.

The door. Why didn’t I just close the door?

Stupid. No, preoccupied. I’ve been through a lot.

No, stupid.