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Otherwise he wouldn't be doing this. And that gave me the flattered feeling again. I'd become one of those chosen. Cindy's kiss, and bringing my hand to her breast, had anointed me.
    We went several more blocks this way, short dark side street blocks, with nobody to see us.
    But then we reached Bush Avenue, which was the second busiest street in town. It was well-lighted and well-plowed.
    Just as we reached the intersection, he slammed into me again, sending me spinning around completely.
    I just had time to glimpse the same police car I had seen earlier tonight. The number was the same: three. I still couldn't see who was inside.
    Then I was backtracking the route we'd just taken, back on the dark side streets, headed toward Cindy's house.
    Apparently, Cindy's was where he wanted to go because he kept ramming me in that direction. Even when I'd spin out of control, he'd spin back around so that I was pointed in the direction of her house.
    The siren started about a block before we reached Cindy's street. By now, my car wasn't running at all. It was propelled only by his car hurtling into mine.
    One siren became two then three.
    Myles gave it one last shot. He knocked my car up off the road and on to Cindy's front lawn and right into a snow-laden oak tree.
    Lights were on in all the houses.
    I saw Cindy and her parents step out on their front porch, Cindy in her street clothes, her parents in pajamas and robes.
    I was just climbing out of my car when the door was ripped open and Myles reached in and grabbed me.
    He yanked me out of the car, threw me up against the tree, and started hitting me with a tire iron. He got me two times on the side of the head before I was able to hit him in the stomach and get him to back off a little. I ducked the next three swings of the tire iron, landing a good solid punch to his jaw, and then another solid one to his left ear.
    I was just getting ready to bring my steel-toed boot up to his crotch when he connected with the tire iron. This blow drove me to my knees. He swung again immediately but I was able to move under the tire iron by no more than an inch.
    "That's enough, Myles. Hold it right there."
    In my delirium and pain, I recognized the voice.
    My old Conan buddy, Garrett.
    Officer Garrett.
    I was making noises that embarrassed me, mewling sounds I guess. I heard Cindy's voice saying, "Is Spence all right? Is Spence all right?"
    And I wanted to stop making the noises—the sounds that revealed me to be a coward—but I couldn't somehow.
    Then I was crying, just plain little-kid crying, and that was the worst thing of all.

CHAPTER EIGHT

    The doctor said, "This won't hurt much."
    But he lied. It hurt a lot.
    Or, correction, they hurt a lot: nine stitches on the side of my head.
    I sat in a small white room that smelled of medicine and pain. A nurse stayed with me for a while and then there was a knock on the door and Garrett stood in the doorway.
    He just looked at me and shook his head. He waited for the nurse to leave and then he came in and closed the door and said, "You look like shit." He was very aware of his uniform as he moved. He hadn't gotten used to the power it gave him yet. He was still at the self-conscious stage.
    "Thank you."
    "Your car looks like shit, too."
    "It looked like shit, anyway."
    "We're charging him with assault and battery."
    "The way I feel, you should charge him with murder."
    "You're not dead."
    "The way I feel, I am."
    He got a close glimpse of my face and skull. "He sure worked you over."
    "He sure did."
    "He won't talk to us. His old man's got a lawyer at the jail."
    I happened to be staring right at his face when he said it. "It was about the girl, wasn't it? Cindy Brasher."
    His whole face changed and something happened to his voice, too. It got a half octave higher, like a kid's.
    He'd met Cindy and been properly smitten.
    "You talk to her?" I said.
    "Yeah. For about half an hour."
    "She tell you what happened?"
    "Not exactly."
    "She was running