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Mrs. Shaw begin making inquiries about flowers and the like. The state she's in, she'll probably be able to keep the lines tied up for most of the afternoon. Has number nine quieted?”

    "Only after I cut the power again. He's barely showing life signs.”

    "Catherine, it is not alive.”

    "Yes, Doctor." The pause obviously contained a silent sigh. "It's barely showing wave patterns.”

    "Better. Did all that banging damage it?”

    "I haven't really had time to examine him, but I think you'd better come and take a look at the box.”

    Dr. Burke felt her eyebrows rise. "The box?”

    "I think he dented it.”

    "Catherine, that's im . . ." She paused and thought about it for a moment, knowing Catherine would wait patiently. With natural inhibitors shut down and no ability to feel pain, enhanced strength might actually be possible. "You can run some tests after you get the new lot of bacteria working.”

    "Yes, Doctor.”

    My, my, my . . . Dr. Burke gave the receiver a satisfied pat as it settled into its cradle. It sounded like they could actually have made a breakthrough with number nine. Now, if we can only keep it from decomposing . . .

    Breakfast dishes were still out on the drying rack and the chair with the quilted cushion sat out a little from the table. The makeup case lay open on the bathroom counter, the washcloth beside it slightly damp. The bed had been made neatly, but a pair of pantyhose with a wide run down one leg lay discarded in the center of the spread.

    Vicki sat at the telephone table, her mother's address book open on her lap, and called everyone she thought should know, her voice calm and professional as though she were speaking of someone else's mother. Mrs. Singh? I'm Constable Nelson, from the Metro Police. It's about your son . . . I'm afraid your husband . . . The driver had no chance to avoid your wife . . . Your daughter, Jennifer, has been . . . The funeral will be at two tomorrow.

    When the funeral home called, Mr. Delgado took her mother's favorite blue suit from the closet and delivered it. When he returned, he forced her to eat a sandwich and kept insisting she'd feel better if she cried. She ate the sandwich without tasting it.

    Now, there was no one left to call and Mr. Delgado had been convinced to go home. Vicki sat, one foot dangling over the arm of the old upholstered rocking chair, one foot pushing back and forth against the floor.

    Slowly, the room grew dark.

    "I'm telling you, Henry, she looked wrecked. Like Night of the Living Dead .”

    "And she didn't hear you when you called to her?"

    Tony shook his head, a long lock of pale brown hair falling into his eyes. "No, she just kept walking, and the guard wouldn't let me go up the stairs after her. Said only ticket holders were allowed and wouldn't believe me when I said I was her brother. The motherfucking bastard." A year under Henry's patronage hadn't quite erased five years on the street. "But I copied down all the places the train was going." He dug a crumpled and dirty piece of paper out of the front pocket of his skintight jeans and passed it over. "She was carrying a bag, so I guess when she gets there she's gonna stay.”

    The names of nine towns had been scrawled onto the blank spaces of a subway transfer. Henry frowned down at them. Why had Vicki left town without telling him? He thought they'd moved beyond that. Unless it had something to do with the fight they'd had on Saturday night. However great the temptation to prove his power, he knew he shouldn't have coerced her as he had and he intended to apologize as soon as she cooled down enough to accept it. "Her mother lives in Kingston," he said at last.

    "You think you did something, don't you?”

    He looked up, startled. "What are you talking about?”

    "I like to watch you." Tony blushed slightly and dug his toe into the carpet. "I watch you all the time we're together. You've got your Prince-of-Men face, and your Prince-of-Darkness face, and your sort