that story, despite all the fuss and silliness it caused, actually led to their getting a legitimate call from a sheriff in Tennessee.
Jack ended with: "So I wouldn't worry too much about this girl - what's her name? Yvette?"
"Davette," corrected Annabelle.
"Whatever. I wouldn't worry about her. Her tale won't get printed either. Even if it slams us. They don't even publish those for some reason. But..." And he pulled up at a stop sign and turned in his seat and faced the younger man. "But I wish they would. This ain't Rome, kid. This is the battleground. And if I could get on Good Morning, America tomorrow morning, I would. One of the biggest troubles we got is belief. Most people don't or won't believe until it's too late. But if they knew about somebody to call without going through all the rigmarole of the feds or the Church or whatever - Well, most times their local priests don't even buy their fears. But if they knew about somebody who did - and just one or two goddamned days quicker - we could save lots of lives. You get it?"
Adam coughed, cleared his throat. "Yes, well, it's just that..."
Jack's voice was iron. "Nope. Yes or no, son. There is no third way. Are you here with us or someone else? Yes or no."
The young priest stared out the front window of the truck for a few moments. Then he glanced at Annabelle, who smiled at him warmly. Finally he looked at Jack.
"Yes, sir."
Behind them another car at the stop sign honked for them to move. They did.
A few minutes later Jack pulled off the famous 17-Mile-Drive and onto a side road that climbed and curved up the side of a bill overlooking the Pebble Beach Golf Course and beyond, the glittering blue of Cannel Bay. Down below had been mostly cottages, but up here astride the ridge were the great estates, walled and spread-out and beautiful, with their towering pines and tennis courts and postcard courtyards and flower-eating deer. The home of Team Crow was one of the grandest atop the ridge, a huge multiwinged tudor mansion set back far from the road, with a five-car two-story garage, a Japanese garden in the rear surrounding a steamy heated pool, and eight acres left to play in.
A true palace, thought Jack as he negotiated around a parked car and started up the drive. And incredibly, it had felt too small.
But that was before.
Don't think about the phone.
Cat and Annabelle were craning their heads to look behind them.
"Is that her?" she asked.
Cat nodded. "I think so. Looks like her car."
"What are you talking about?" Jack asked.
"It's Davette," Annabelle replied. "I think she fell asleep out front waiting for us to pick you up from that late plane of yours."
"Want me to run down and get her?" Cat asked.
"No!" blurted Annabelle firmly.
Jack glanced at her, surprised, as he pulled the truck to a stop in the empty carport. "I thought you liked her."
"I do. But we leave in six hours and I want to put you under first. After that you can talk to her."
"Put you under." Jack sat cringing behind the wheel as a wave of misery flushed through his system. Put me under, hypnotize me, make me remember back, remember everything that just happened - two weeks ago? Yesterday? Go back there and remember everything and make a tape of that same everything because any one detail might mean the difference later on. Nobody knew shit about vampires and they had to learn, had to, had to... Anthony! Oh, God! I don't want to go back there again!
Adam spoke up from beside him. "Haven't you made that last tape yet?"
And Jack's memory scrambled desperately to help him.
"Sure I have," he insisted, looking pale into their faces and feeling sweaty and lost. "Haven't I?"
"No" was all Annabelle said in reply and it was gentle but it was also firm and that meant she loved him and understood even, but he was going to have to do it anyway.
Jack closed his eyes and let the wave pass.
He hadn't thought back once. Not specifically, not in detail. Not once.
Not awake.
"How come you know about the tapes?" Carl asked Adam, and his voice sounded suspicious.
And that woke Jack up. Leader again. Depend on me. Rock and roll.
Jack turned in his seat and faced Carl. "This is the kid who keeps track of the tapes for the Man. Been doing it for three years."