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making
motorists fractious.
    The officers not on the streets directing traffic were
monitoring
the crowds in the market, trying to prevent fistfights over the scant
merchandise left on the shelves. There had been one altercation already
over the last tin of sardines.
    With sleet pellets larger than grains of rock salt, the rapid
accumulation would soon become nasty. As the weather system moved over
the mountain and swept down the eastern face of it into the valley,
picking up moisture, conditions were going to get even more
unmanageable. Until the storm was over, and all the ice and snow had
melted, Dutch could count on little or no rest.
    Glancing up toward the crest of Cleary Peak, he saw that it
was
completely engulfed in cloud. He'd come down just in time and was
relieved to know that Lilly had been right behind him and was well on
her way south to Atlanta by now. If she made good time, she could
probably outrun the storm, arriving home before it caught up with her.
    He still thought of her constantly, of where she was, of what
she
was doing. It was a habit that no goddamn decree of divorcement could
break. Remembering how she'd looked at him before he left the cabin
created a weight in his chest as heavy as an anvil. She'd been afraid
of him. Which was nobody's fault but his own. He'd given her reason to
fear him.
    "Hey, Chief!" Wes Hamer was shouting at him from the sidewalk
just
outside Ritt's Drug Store. "Get over here. I'm a taxpaying citizen, and
I've got a gripe."
    Dutch pulled his Bronco out of the line of cars inching along
Main
Street and into the handicapped parking space in front of the
drugstore. He lowered his window, letting in a blast of frigid air.
    Wes came toward him with the shoulder-rolling amble of a
former
football player. Both his knees and one hip were afflicted with
osteoarthritis, but that wasn't something Wes advertised. He would do
damn near anything to keep from owning up to a weakness of any sort.
    "You got a complaint, Coach?" Dutch deadpanned.
    "You're the number one peace officer around here. clear the
streets
of these morons?"
    "I'd start with you."
    Wes guffawed but immediately sensed Dutch's dour mood and
leaned in
closer. "Hey, buddy, why the long face?"
    "I said good-bye to Lilly for the last time. Couple hours ago.
Up at
the cabin. She's gone for good, Wes."
    Wes turned away. "Scott, go warm up the car. I'll be right
there."
Scott, who'd been standing beneath the awning outside Ritt's store,
caught the set of car keys Wes tossed to him, raised his other hand in
a farewell wave to Dutch, then sauntered off down the sidewalk.
    "Has he heard anything from Clemson yet?" Dutch asked.
    "We can talk about that later. Let's talk about your wife."
    "Ex-wife. Emphasis on the
ex
, which she
made perfectly
clear this afternoon."
    "I thought you were going to talk to her."
    "I did."
    "No go?"
    "No go. She's got her divorce and she's happy about it. She
wants
nothing to do with me. It's over." He rubbed his brow with his gloved
hand.
    "Are you gonna cry, or what? Jesus, Dutch, don't make me
ashamed to
call you my best friend."
    Dutch turned and looked at him. "Fuck you."
    Unfazed, Wes continued. "The way you're mewling around." He
shook
his head over Dutch's pathetic behavior. "Lilly didn't know a good
thing when she had it. So screw her. My opinion of her has always
been—"
    "I don't want to hear your opinion of her."
    "She thinks her shit don't stink."
    "I said I didn't want to hear it, all right?"
    Wes held up both hands as though in surrender. "All right. But
it
isn't like she holds me in high esteem."
    "She thinks you're an asshole."
    "Like I'm gonna lose sleep over what Ms. Lilly Martin Burton
thinks
of me." Smiling crookedly, he clapped his hand on Dutch's shoulder.
"You're taking this breakup way too hard. You lost your wife, not your
manhood. Look around," he said, gesturing expansively. "There are women
everywhere."
    "I've had women," Dutch muttered.
    Wes tilted his head. "Yeah? All