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opened it for a check, snapped it shut, and said, Take a peek and tell me if they’re coming to the door.
    She looked out and saw them moving around Rake’s car, leaning in to the windows, and then standing behind it and reading the plates. One of them held a pad and jotted something down and then went to the cruiser and sat inside, lifting the microphone to his mouth.
    He’s calling something in, she said.
    Rake pushed her away from the window, lifted the slat, and looked out. Put that stuff in the bag. Pack everything up. We’re in one of those situations. We’re gonna have the pleasure of blasting them both, he said. They’re gonna face something they knew they’d have to face. They just didn’t know they’d have to face it tonight. It’s that simple, he said.
    Words tight and sweet. The relief of putting them together. He would start speaking and she’d gather each phrase, take in the scroll of meaning. They moved together with conspiratorial unity. She felt that much. That much was sure. She was with him, at least for now. In her ears a siren still spun, but softer, subdued. This is how it is, a voice said, far off. This is how it’s gonna be. Another voice said: Give in to this and you give in forever. Don’t give in. Another part speaking in the clear logic of survival mode. Lockstep into the formation, the grid of the moment. She had been enfolded in a routine stage set. That part is gone, they said. That part of you’s gonna be there, you’ll feel it, and you’ll want to pick at it like a scab, but don’t pick. You pick, you open it back up and the blood’ll flow. In the dark she felt this. Lockstep to survive. Do what they say to do and you’ll be all right, it’s that simple, really. They were in folding chairs in a group facing each other, going through the routine motions, the Corps Credo on the wall, the windows open slightly and the breeze coming in. Move around it, work around it, and you’ll be fine, a voice said.
    Keep an eye on them, he said, reaching under the bed. The double-barrel shotgun was blunt and stupid-looking in the dim light, sawed off, like something carved from a log. He cracked it, loaded two shells, thumbed them tight, and then jerked it shut. All snap and tightness. Old monster, he called it.
    The charges hovered: kidnapping a minor out of the Grid and statutory rape to begin with; murder; narcotics, dealing and using, robbery, burglary—he could speak at length about these old-school cops, small-timers like his old man, shifty fuckers who moved with a deliberation you didn’t see in city cops, shrouded in a nonchalance that was highly deceptive. All that tedium of speed-trap stakeouts, parked deep in the brambles, clocking with their eyes, trying to find some semblance of drama in a few streets and a lot of land. His old man had come home from work with a dull gaze in his eyes, laying his firearm on the table.
    This’ll kill both of them if we’re lucky. If we’re not, I’m going to have to be quick with this one here, he said, tapping his belt.
    I’ve got to use the bathroom, she said.
    He turned and gave her a long gaze. She could feel it. His eyes looking. His eyes boring into her.
    Make it quick, he said. You’re gonna answer the door when they knock. They won’t be able to get their eyes off you because they’re not used to seeing flesh like yours, and that’s going to be their death warrant.
    The tiles were moldy, the grout gray around the toilet, which was little more than a grim hole gurgling softly to itself. She pulled the shower curtains back, trying not to rattle the hooks, and gazed at the window. It was small, but not too small. She climbed into the tub and pushed it up and looked out behind the hotel. A field opened up into rubble and trash with a shaggy old fence that dipped invitingly in the middle. About twenty yards past the field was a weathered clapboard house with shaded windows. Everything was starting to emerge in the first dawn