the air. The .25 auto he had taken from his desk rested comfortably in his trousers pocket. The only vehicle in the parking lot was his. For some reason the night struck him as more like spring than late summer, a time of new beginnings, a season of tropical showers and farmers’ markets and baseball training camps and a carpet of bluebonnets and Indian paintbrush just over the rise on the highway.

But for Nick, spring was special for another reason: No matter how jaded he had become, spring still reminded him of his youthful innocence and the innocence his children had shared with him.

He thought of the great green willow tree bending over the Comal River behind his property, and the way his children had loved to swim through its leafy tendrils, hanging on to a branch just at the edge of the current, challenging Nick to dive in with them, their faces full of respect and affection for the father who kept them safe from the world.

If only Nick could undo the fate of the Thai women. What did the voice of Yahweh say? “I am the alpha and omega. I am the beginning and the end. I am He who maketh all things new.” But Nick doubted that the nine women and girls whose mouths had been packed with dirt would give him absolution so easily.

He walked across the parking lot to his car, watching the tops of the trees bend in the wind, the moon like silver plate behind a cloud, his thoughts a tangled web he couldn’t sort out. Behind him, he heard an engine roar to life and tires ripping through gravel down to a harder surface. Before he could turn around, Hugo’s SUV was abreast of him, Hugo in the passenger seat, a kid in a top hat behind the wheel.

“Get in, Nick. Eat breakfast with us,” Hugo said, rolling down the window.

A man Nick didn’t know sat in the backseat, a pair of crutches propped next to him.

“No, thanks,” Nick replied.

“You need to hop in with us, you really do,” Hugo said, getting out of the vehicle and opening the back door.

The man who sat in back against the far door was watching Nick in tently now. His hair was greased, the part a neat gray line through the scalp, the way an actor from the 1940s might wear his hair. His head was narrow, his nose long, his mouth small and compressed. A newspaper was folded neatly in his lap; his right hand rested just inside the fold. “I’d appreciate you talking to me,” the man said.

The wind had dropped, and the rustling sounds in the trees had stopped. The air seemed close, humid, like damp wool on the skin. Nick could hear his pulse beating in his ears.

“Mr. Dolan, do not place your hand in your pocket,” the man said.

“You’re the one they call Preacher?” Nick asked.

“Some people do.”

“I don’t owe you any money.”

“Who said you did?”

“Hugo.”

“That’s Hugo, not me. What are you carrying in your pocket, Mr. Dolan?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.”

“What?”

“Don’t be disingenuous, either.”

“I don’t know what that word means.”

“You’ll either talk to me now, or you’ll see me or Bobby Lee later.”

“Who’s Bobby Lee?”

“That’s Bobby Lee there,” Preacher said, indicating the driver. “He may be a descendant of the general. You told Hugo you wanted to meet me. Don’t demean yourself by pretending you didn’t.”

Nick could hear a brass band marching through his head. “So now I’ve met you. I’m satisfied. I’m going home now.”

“I’m afraid not,” Preacher said.

Nick felt as though a garrote were tightening around his chest, squeezing the blood from his heart. Face it now, when Esther and the kids aren’t with you, a voice inside him said.

“You say something?” Preacher asked.

“Yeah, I have friends. Some of them are cops. They come here sometimes. They eat free at my restaurant.”

“So where does that leave us?”

Nick didn’t have an answer. In fact, he couldn’t keep track of anything he had said. “I’m not a criminal. I don’t belong in this.”

“Maybe we can be friends. But you have to talk to me first,” Preacher said.

Nick set his jaw and stepped inside the SUV, then heard the door slam behind him. The kid in the top hat floored the SUV onto the service road. The surge of power in the engine caused Nick to sway against the seat and lose control of the safety strap he was trying to snap into place. Preacher continued to look at him, his hazel eyes