Union Atlantic Page 0,55

about the life you're living? To give that belief a concrete form in the hope the building would make it true? Isn't that the idea? And isn't it false? Wouldn't you say that honesty - not of the rule-following kind but of the clear-eyed-apprehension-of-the-world sort - wouldn't you say it requires us to give up those childish equivalencies: the doll for the person, the object for the dream? If a person couldn't do that, it might suggest a lack of inner resources, don't you suppose?"

"You have no idea who I am," he said. "You think I'm like every other person in this town living in a new house, but you're wrong. I have as little time for them as I do for you. And I'll tell you something for free - you're as obvious as they are. You just happened to get here first so you think that gives you some divine right to have it all to yourself."

As he spoke, the Doberman squatted and proceeded to dump a pile of steaming shit onto the lawn.

"Oh, I do apologize. Honestly. That's very rude of him. Bad, Wilkie! Never on the grass! I got him from the pound, you see, and he's never taken well to instruction. It's hopeless now, of course," she added. "You simply can't imagine."

"Listen," he said, telling himself to just let the dog shit go, just let it go, "this lawsuit of yours, you're going to lose, so why not do us both a favor and just drop it. I didn't come after you. But if you keep this up, I will."

Suddenly, both dogs lunged leftward, catching Charlotte off guard and forcing her into a run as they chased after a tabby cat Doug had never seen before. Their speed was too much for her and she stumbled at the edge of the driveway, her feet slipping on the wet grass, her hand and shoulder and then thigh coming down hard onto the pavement. Freed from her grasp, the dogs dashed forward, disappearing around the corner of the house.

"Great!" he shouted. "Another fucking lawsuit!"

Miserably, he walked toward her prone figure, though by the time he reached her, she'd sat up and was brushing grass from the arm of her jacket. Rain ran off her forehead, down her nose, and into her eyes. She looked utterly lost at that moment, as helpless as a child. He was about to reach a hand down to help her up when he saw Nate jogging across the circle.

"Ms. Graves, are you okay? Are you all right?"

He knelt beside her and put his arm around her back.

"Who's that?"

"Can you move? Can you move your legs?"

She nodded and as Doug looked on, Nate dipped his shoulder under her arm, put a hand around her waist, and raised her off the wet ground.

"She needs a doctor. We have to call an ambulance."

"No, no," she said. "Don't be silly. I'm fine." She pushed the hair out of her eyes and straightened her skirt. "Those beasts will get no dinner."

"You need to be x-rayed."

"Heavens, no. Once you get into one of those hospitals you never get out." She looked shaken but appeared steady enough on her feet.

"So," Doug said, "just to be clear, you've been offered medical attention and you're declining it, correct?"

Nate glared at him but said nothing.

"All right, then. I guess Nate here will get you home." And with that he strode off, leaving the two of them huddled together in the early-morning drizzle.

AS SOON AS Doug entered Evelyn Jones's office an hour later, he realized he'd need a plan B. Whatever the origin of her immunity - intelligence, race, lesbianism perhaps, fact-based suspicion, some combination of these - his default MO would get him nowhere here. And yet she had to be won over. A bit of bad accounting was one thing. It could be papered over once he'd got an explanation from McTeague. But throwing the compliance department into investigative mode before he knew the facts - that wasn't an option.

"You mind if I close the door?" he asked.

"Be my guest."

Memos were tacked squarely to the bulletin board, binders arranged neatly beneath a row of five clocks, each labeled for the city whose time it kept. Along the front of her desk sat two small picture frames, their backings to Doug. Sabrina's sleuthing had turned up the fact that she'd been absent for her brother's funeral just a day or two ago.

"So," he said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes wandering