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Taking them to school, Dot said. If she s coming back right away, we ll
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want to wait until later. But there s no way to know, is there?
There is if she turns this way, he said.
Huh?
Here she comes, Keller said, and as the car approached he opened his door
and got out from behind the wheel. He d brought the Gideon Bible from his
motel room, but he left that in his car. He stepped out into the street in
front of the oncoming SUV, raising a hand palm-out and waving it from side to
side. The Lexus stopped, and Keller smiled the kind of benign smile you d
expect from a studious balding man wearing glasses. He walked over to the side
of the car, and when she rolled down the window he explained that he was
having trouble finding Frontenac Drive.
Oh, it doesn t exist, she said. It s on maps, but they changed their minds
and never cut it through.
That explains it, he said, and she drove away, and he got back in the car.
I knew it, he said. There is no Frontenac. The map lied.
That s wonderful, Keller. I ll sleep better knowing that. But why on earth
She s dressed to meet the world, he said, not just to dump the kids and
come home. Lipstick, earrings, and a purse on the seat beside her.
And all three kids?
Two in the back and one in front. And not a sound, because two of them were
listening to their iPods and the other, the boy, was playing something where
you use your thumbs a lot.
Some video game?
I guess.
A nice little family group. Keller, you re having second thoughts about this,
aren t you?
He said, She ll be gone a couple of hours, would be my guess, but we don t
have time to waste. Let s get it done.
Keller pulled into the driveway and they got out of the car. Dot, carrying her
handbag, led the way up the flagstone path to the front door. Keller, with the
Bible in one hand and the pry bar in the other, was a step or two behind her.
She rang the doorbell, and Keller heard it chime. Then nothing, and then
footsteps. He flipped the Bible open and held it in his left hand as if he
were reading it, so that it obscured the lower portion of his face. His right
hand clutched the pry bar, holding it out of sight at his side.
The door opened, and Marlin Taggert, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of
camo cargo pants, took a look at the two of them. Oh, Christ, he said.
The very subject I wanted to raise with you, Dot said. I hope you re having
a divine day, Mr. Taggert.
I don t need this, he said. No disrespect, lady, but I got no use for you
or the Jesus shit you re peddling, so if you ll just take it somewhere else
But that was all he said, because by then Keller had driven the rounded end of
the pry bar into the pit of his stomach.
The reaction was heartening. Taggert gasped, clutched at his middle, took an
involuntary step backward, stumbled, caught his balance. Keller rushed in
after him, with Dot right behind, drawing the door shut after her. Taggert
retreated, picked up a glass ashtray, hurled it at Keller. It sailed wide, and
Keller went after him, and Taggert yanked a lamp off a table and flung it.
Son of a bitch, Taggert bellowed, and charged Keller, swinging a wild right
hand. Keller ducked under the blow, swung the pry bar like a sickle, and heard
the bone snap when he connected with Taggert s leg. The man let out a roar and
crumpled to the floor, and Keller had the pry bar high overhead and just
caught himself in time; he was that close to smashing the man s skull and
rendering him forever silent.
Taggert had an arm raised to ward off a blow. Keller feinted with the pry bar,
then swung it in an easy arc that caught the man high on the left temple.
Taggert s eyes rolled up in his head and he pitched over onto his side.
Dot said, Oh, hell.
What? Had he struck too hard a blow after all? He looked up and saw the old
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dog waddling across the carpet toward them. Keller walked toward it, still
holding the pry bar, and with a visible effort the dog raised its head to look
up at him.
Keller put down the bar, took hold of the dog s collar, put it in another
room, and closed the door.
For a second there, Dot said, I thought it was about to attack. But it was
just waiting for Queen Elizabeth to take it for a walk.
He checked Taggert, found him unconscious but breathing. He rolled him over,
secured his hands behind his back with a few loops of the wire he d bought,
and used some more of the wire to bind his ankles together.
He straightened up, handed the pry bar to Dot. Watch him, he said, and went
looking for the kitchen.
A door from the kitchen led into the attached garage. Keller found a button to
raise the garage door, parked his car alongside the Cadillac, and lowered the
door. He wasn t gone long, and Taggert was still out when he returned to the
living room. The lamp was back on its table, he noticed, and so was the glass
ashtray.
Dot shrugged. What can I say, Keller? I m neat. And this mope s still out.
What do we do, throw water on him?
We can give him a minute or two.
You know, I thought you were exaggerating about the hair in his ears. If he
doesn t come to on his own, I ll find a tweezers and start ripping out ear
hair. That should bring him around.
This is simpler, he said, and poked his toe gently into Taggert s shin. He
found the spot where he d struck with the pry bar, and the pain cut right
through. Taggert yelped and opened his eyes.
He said, Jesus, my leg. I think you broke it.
So?
So? So you broke my fucking leg. Who the hell are you people? If this is
some religious cult, you got a hell of a way of recruiting, is all I can say.
If it s a robbery, you re out of luck. I don t keep any money in the house.
That s a good policy.
Huh? Look, wiseass, how d you pick my house? You got any idea who I am?
Marlin Taggert, Keller said. Now it s your turn.
Huh?
To tell me who I am, Keller said.
How the hell do I know who you are? Wait a minute. Do I know you?
That was my question.
Jesus, he said. You re the guy.
I guess you remember.
You look different.
Well, I ve been through a lot.
Look, Taggert said, I m sorry that didn t go the way it was supposed to.
Oh, I think it went exactly the way it was supposed to.
You re probably upset that you didn t get paid, and that s something that can
be taken care of. All you had to do was get in touch. I mean, there s no need
for violence.
This was taking too long. Keller kicked him hard in the leg, and Taggert
screamed.
Cut the crap, Keller said. You set me up and left me hanging.
All I ever did, Taggert said, was what I got paid to do. Pick up this guy,
take him here, take him there, show him this, tell him that. I was doing my
job.
I realize that.
There was nothing personal to it. Jesus, you ought to be able to understand
that. What the hell were you doing in Iowa? You weren t there on a relief
mission for the Red Fucking Cross. You went there to do a job, and if I didn t
keep telling you Not today, not today, you d have iced that poor schmuck we
saw pruning his roses.
Watering his lawn.
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