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confusion at the name. He pulled the
    revolver from the holster on his hip and fired it over his head. Bang!
    Bang!   Bang!   Bang!
     
    Marilee jolted awake in time to see the moose descending on her. She
    shrieked and brought her arms up to deflect the blow, knocking the
    painting onto the floor. The banging she had interpreted as gunshots in
    her dream went on without cease.
     
    Luanne and Bob-Ray were at it again.
     
    She tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed and discovered that
    in her fitful sleep she had rolled into the grand Canyon of mattress
    valleys.
     
    "I think I saw this bed on The Twilight Zone," she grumbled, trying to
    rock herself into a sitting position.
     
    "People fell through it into an alternate universe."
     
    Wishing fleetingly she had stuck with one of the dozen aerobics classes
    she had signed up for in the last three years, she heaved herself out of
    the chasm and tumbled onto the floor. A shuddering groan vibrated
    through the room as the air conditioner kicked into high gear, blasting
    arctic air and the smell of mildew. The control knob was missing and the
    plug looked like something no certified electrician would touch without
    first shutting down power to the whole north end of town.
     
    Rubbing her frigid hands up and down her cold, bare arms, she peered out
    through the separation in the drapes to see the first faint pink tints
    of dawn streaking behind the snow-capped peaks to the east. At the edge
    of the parking lot, the Paradise Motel sign buzzed and flickered.
     
    Not a creature was stirring . . . except Bob-Ray and the Sizzler, the
    Amazing Human Breakfast Sausage.
     
    "I . . Goddamn, Luanne!   You could suck the white off rice!"
     
    Marilee groaned and rubbed her hands over her face.
     
    "I could never get enough of you, Bob-Ray."
     
    "A sad truth that's been made abundantly clear in the last five hours,"
    Marilee said through her teeth.
     
    "Well, come on up here, then, darling. I'll give you all you can
    handle."
     
    Luanne squealed like a mare in heat and the banging - audio and
    physical - began again.
     
    Her temper frayed down to the ragged nub, Marilee grabbed the Gideon
    Bible from the nightstand and used it as a gavel against the wall.
     
    "Hey, Mr. Piston!" she bellowed. "Give it a rest, will ya?"
     
    There was a moment of taut silence, then the perpetrators burst into
    giggles and the bed springs started squeaking again.
     
    Giving up on any hope of rest, she headed toward the bathroom.
     
    She hadn't taken in more than a glimpse of the town of New Eden on her
    way to Lucy's place. Coming back after her encounter with Rafferty, she
    had gone no farther than the motel on the north edge of town. Now she
    drove down the wide main street slowly, glancing at the ornate false
    fronts of brick buildings that had probably witnessed cattle drives and
    gunfights a century before.
     
    They were mixed with clapboard storefronts and the odd, low-slung
    "modern" building that had gone up in the sixties, when architects had
    been completely devoid of taste.
     
    New Eden had a rumpled, dusty look. Comfortable.
     
    Quiet. A curious mix of shabbiness and pride. Some of the shops were
    vacant and run-down, their windows staring blankly at the street. Others
    were being treated to cosmetic face-lifts. Painting scaffolds stood
    along their sides like giant Tinker Toys. Among the usual small-town
    businesses Marilee counted four art galleries, three shops devoted to
    selling fly-fishing gear, and half a dozen places that advertised
    espresso.
     
    In the gray early morning, a trio of dogs trotted down the sidewalk and
    crossed the street in front of Marilee, looking up at her but not
    seeming at all concerned that she wouldn't slow down for them. She
    chuckled as she watched them head directly for a place called the
    Rainbow Cafe. Trusting their judgment, she pulled her little Honda into
    a slot along a row of hulking, battered pickups and cut the engine.
     
    In