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viewing as a bird’s-eye perspective. Now his breathing deepened as his head rolled back on the sofa. His body settled in. He spoke to himself in a low voice.
    “There now ... there. Yes. What kind of car is that...? Ah.” He went quiet. His face became a mask of concentration.
     
    *****
     
    Ronnie was flying, moving rapidly down a tunnel, snapping lights winking away on the sides. There was a glow ahead and he moved toward it. He broke out into sunlight over a coastline road. The day was windy. He could see it in the movement of the trees, but he couldn’t feel it. An odd little vehicle was moving down the road as it wound back and forth over a craggy coastline road. Ronnie followed the car until an arcing curve to the left spread out into a wide open space. There was a beach on the left, with small rollers working their way into shore. The car slowed, turning into a paved area. A man got out the driver’s side, followed by a laughing woman from the passenger door. The woman turned, pushed the seat forward, reaching in to help a blonde-haired little girl out of the back seat. The man went to the trunk, pulling out a blanket and a cardboard box. Ronnie hovered over it all, watching, waiting. There was no feel of danger, no hurried movements, no apprehension. The three moved together toward the beach, the man and woman holding the little girl’s hands as they made their way toward the water.
    Ronnie let go, moving back through darkness, the lights sparkling in the distance. As always, he felt his own tenuous grasp on his physical presence, pulling himself back inward. If one day he was to lose that grip, he wondered: What then? He lifted his head from the back of the couch as he returned, looked at Francis, and flipped the picture onto the table in front of him.
    “Your guy is on a goddamn vacation. He’s at the beach.”
    “Are you certain?” Francis said.
    “Yes, I’m certain. You flew all the way down here, approached us in public, and brought us here to tell you the man you lost is on a vacation. If you had waited a day or two he would have probably showed up again on his own.”
    “I don’t like it when I don’t know where my assets are,” Francis said. “I don’t like losing them even for a day.”
    Cassie got up off the sofa, her eyes ice. She was shaking with anger. “Then don’t lose them,” she said. Ronnie took her hand, heading for the door.
    Francis stood up. “You may not like what I do. But remember, you don’t have much choice in this. I say the word and you perform. Got that?”
    Cassie stopped and turned back when she was halfway out the door. “You be careful,” she said. “We’re not domesticated. Sometimes we bite back.”
     
    *****
     
    The wait for the elevator was silent. Cassie bounced leg to leg, watching the numbers on the overhead indicator move to three, slowly but surely. The bell went off. She was on before the doors opened completely. Ronnie followed, stabbing the button for the lobby. The ride down seemed even slower. They crossed the lobby, passing out into the muggy air. Traffic on the street had thinned, the mix of passersby now changing from workers headed home to pleasure seekers out for the night. By the time they reached their car, Cassie had calmed down enough to start the process of thinking about their situation.
    “It may be time to run, Ronnie,” she said. “This guy is going to get us killed sooner or later. He doesn’t have the sense God gave a grapefruit. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him run my life.”
    “I don’t think he’s the smartest guy in the world either,” Ronnie said, backing out of the parking space. “But we need to think this thing through. Look what we would be giving up. We have my family, your family, our entire lives. I like living in New Orleans. I don’t know anything else. If I decide to make a change for myself, I can deal with that. But running? Do you really want to get chased out of your own