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stayed the same. Problem was, while the pain ramped up, our ability to combat it spiraled downward.
    He folded his arms. “As her doctor, I’m obliged to tell you. Over the long term, dexamethasone causes ulcers, bleeding of the organs, euphoria, water retention, heart insufficiency, blurred vision and wide-angle glaucoma. Other than that, it’s a peach.”
    I shrugged. “I guess the good news is that we needn’t be too concerned about the long term.”
    He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned toward the street. “And…”
    “Yeah?”
    “You won’t see it coming and it won’t be pretty. In truth, you’ll hear it before you see it. Once you do, it’s a ticking time bomb. Problem is, you can’t see the fuse.”
    He pointed at my bag of goodies. “The dexamethasone…one will ease the pain, two will knock her out for most of a day…three will…well…”
    I knew what he was trying to say. “Thanks, Gary.”
    “If you have anything left to say, say it now.”
    I walked back up the steps. “Close your eyes.”
    “What?”
    “Just close your eyes. I have a present for you.” He did and I backhanded him about as hard as I could in the left eye.
    He hit the floor. “What’d you do that for!”
    I helped him up. “You need a story to go with the lie that you’re going to tell the office manager in a few hours.” I pointed at his swelling eye. “Now you’ve got one.”
    “You could’ve warned me.”
    “Sorry.” I handed him an Actiq. “Here, this’ll help with the pain.”
    “Very funny.” I turned and started walking down his steps. “Doss, you know what you’re doing?”
    I shrugged. “Not really. I just know I can’t stay here.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t envy you.”
    “I’ll be seeing you, Gary. Sorry about your eye.”
    “One more thing.”
    “Yeah?”
    “One of the conversations right now in the medical community is how much is too much narcotic. With all the conversations about euthanasia, we are constantly asking ourselves, whether out loud or quietly to ourselves, when we, as physicians, have crossed the line from fighting pain to…helping someone go quietly into that long night. You following me?” I nodded. “Given Abbie’s desensitization to the medication, she’ll need a lot of it. If…if you give her what she needs…at the end of the day, you could be charged with, well…between what’s in that bag and what would be in her bloodstream, they’d just build the prison on top of you.”
    “Thanks, Gary.”

    I TIED THE CASE to my seat and shoved it behind me. I could lose everything else but it. And maybe the revolver. I stepped in and shoved off, dipping the paddle tip in the water. My cell phone rang in my pocket. Caller ID read “ SIR .” This was not unexpected. I shoved it back in my pocket and let it ring. When we first married I managed to fly beneath his radar. Now, not so much. A few minutes later, it rang again. And again. Abbie whispered from beneath the tarp, “You better answer it. You know how he hates to be kept waiting.” The fourth time he called, I flipped it open. The tone of voice reminded me of the one he used while in the Chamber as he was speaking to members on the other side of the aisle. The booming one heard on C-SPAN, FOX and CNN. “Where is Abigail Grace?”

    D OUBLE NAMES IN C HARLESTON are a way of life. Most blue bloods decree at least one. It’s an oral remnant of Scarlett’s Camelot days and a not-so-gentle reminder of their ancestral link to nobility. When he first enrolled her at Ashley Hall, then Governor Coleman had insisted on it—intending to elevate her above the fray and distance her from her competitors. One of the youngest governors in the history of the Union, he expected people to jump when he barked, so he surrounded himself with people who asked, “How high?” Propped in pigtails and pearls, she cared nothing for the sort. She did not work for him, had no ambition other than being his daughter and