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her some respect for the profession. She has a bit of an attitude.”
    â€œWhat kind of attitude?”
    â€œThe kind that would lead someone to think having a flat tire merits a 911 call.”
    â€œWhy didn’t the operator tell her to get bent?”
    â€œShe was hysterical during the call and said there had been a fatality.”
    â€œShe lied and said someone was dead in order to get a cop to change her tire?” I ask incredulously.
    â€œSomeone is dead. A groundhog. She hit a groundhog.”
    I can’t help laughing.
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding.”
    â€œNo, I’m not. Fortunately, I was in the area so I got here fairly quickly and was able to radio back in time to keep the state police and the fire department from wasting their time coming out.”
    â€œSo why are you calling me? Why not Mack’s or some other garage?”
    â€œI thought you could use the money.”
    â€œI can charge her?”
    â€œCharge her an arm and a leg.”
    â€œYou’re still thinking about health insurance, aren’t you?”
    â€œGotta go.”
    I look back at E.J. He’s gazing out the open garage door.
    The first time I saw him after the rescue was in the hospital corridor. He was wearing a hospital gown and slippers that looked as ridiculous on him as a circus tutu on a bear. His left arm was in a cast, and his left hand was bandaged.
    He’d been bathed and shaved and given a haircut, but nothing could be done to get rid of the hollowness in his cheeks or the ghostly pale of his skin. His face was covered with dozens of tiny brown cuts and purple bruises that made him look like he had a strange rash or a bizarre batch of freckles.
    He smelled of smoke and it was instantly obvious to me that he had snuck somewhere to have a cigarette and now he was heading back to his room. I couldn’t figure out how he had been able to do it with all the nurses checking on him constantly and all the reporters congregated at every exit.
    He stared at me. His pupils were still dilated, and his shock and confusion over being alive were still evident in his eyes, making them appear wild and haunted one moment and as depthless and motionless as pools of night water the next.
    He still gets that look sometimes. He has it right now.
    He catches me watching him and picks up the first available object as a distraction, which happens to be the photos of his folks.
    I always loved my own parents’ wedding photo. My mom looked ethereal in her white lace and gauze. Dad looked awkward and too big in his rented tux, but he wore the defiance of youth and the triumph of capturing a pretty girl better than anyone else I’ve ever seen.
    I was around ten years old when I got up the nerve to ask him if I could have the picture when he died instead of him giving it to Shannon.
    He gave me a suspicious, startled look. I knew it didn’t have anything to do with the photo. He just didn’t like me figuring out he wasn’t going to live forever.

Chapter Four
    C LAY DIDN’T GIVE ME detailed directions to the damsel in distress, which meant he knew I wasn’t going to need them.
    On the back roads between Jolly Mount and Pine Mills, one doesn’t encounter a brand-new, champagne-colored Lexus SUV with Connecticut plates very often. The owner is sitting in the front seat. She has set up three small neon orange hazard signs on the road that probably came with the vehicle in a fireproof, waterproof, wild animal–proof emergency kit along with a flashlight and some pepper spray.
    I park my car far enough away from hers that she won’t get spooked. I leave my hat and sunglasses on the front seat.
    I walk right up to the driver’s side window without her seeing me. She’s staring straight ahead and her lips are moving. At first I think she’s talking to herself or praying, then I realize she has one of those headsets that allows her to use her cell phone