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their room. I’m sure other witnesses in the hotel lobby will corroborate.”
    Ronnie opened his eyes to see a high-ranking uniformed policeman and a tall man in a business suit with long hair, bushy eyebrows, and a prominent nose.
    “This man is in violation of his parole,” the high-ranking cop said.
    “His victim says that he saved her life, that he found her wandering in the park and took care of her until she came back to her senses. Is his meeting with a PO more important than a girl’s life?”
    “We think that he kidnapped and brainwashed the girl,” the cop countered.
    “Excuse me,” the lawyer said as if getting ready to move a piece on a chessboard, “but are you saying that Ronnie Bottoms is a mugger or an international spy shooting up his victims with Sodium Pentothal?”
    “This isn’t a joke, Mr. Gideon.”
    “No, Captain Briggs, it is not. Racial profiling, police brutality, unlawful arrest, character assassination, and the attempt by a superior officer to cover up the facts in a missing persons case—none of that is amusing, not one bit funny.”
    Ronnie wondered where the lawyer came from. He was obviously important. That cost money. And you had to have connections too. Just the fact that those two men were arguing meant there was a deeper problem somewhere.
    He tried to speak but couldn’t open his mouth, so all that came out was a garbled groan.
    Gideon turned toward him with a passionate frown. “Mr. Bottoms?” he said.
    Ronnie nodded. His jaw didn’t hurt, because he was high on something strong. Percocet, he thought, or maybe even morphine. He wanted to nod but instead his head moved in a circle like the moon around the Earth.
    “Wha’ hap?” he managed to say.
    “I was engaged by your benefactor, Claude Festerling, to see why you had been arrested. I found you unconscious in a cell, suffering from a serious concussion and with a broken jaw. You’d received no medical assistance, and the trial date was delayed until you woke up or died.”
    “The papers had been misplaced,” Captain Briggs interjected.
    “They won’t misplace your misconduct report,” Gideon said while looking into his client’s eyes.
    “Wher’ Lor?” Ronnie mumbled.
    “She’s in the hall. She’s been worried about you.”
    “See her?”
    “I’ll have her come right in.”
    The lawyer Gideon ushered the reluctant Captain Briggs from the hospital room. A few minutes later, Lorraine came in. She was still wearing the thrift store blue dress with the white lace along its high collar.
    “Hey,” Ronnie grunted.
    “Oh, baby, your jaw is all swollen. The doctor said that they had to wire it shut.”
    “Wha’ hap?”
    “Claude Festerling hired Mr. Gideon. He’s also representing me. My parents are trying to get me declared incompetent so they can have me committed, but Mr. Gideon has brought an injunction against them on my behalf. You’ve been unconscious for two days. Claude came to me at the hotel yesterday and said that he needs to see us back in the park as soon as possible.”
    “Bu’ why he jus’…,” Ronnie began.
    “He says that he has learned not to use his power to override the rules of any society. He says that by doing that in the past, he was more evil than you and Ma Lin put together.”
    Ronnie closed his eyes to locate the heartbeat that was the only purely good memory in his entire life. It was there, in his own chest, the steady beat that was like a naked musician on top of a high mountain, pounding his clubs against a great drum.
    Each double beat cleared the fog a bit more in Ronnie’s head. He counted up to seven and then sat up. Lorraine helped him get to his feet and dress. She tied his shoes for him and he touched the place on her head that he’d caved in with the white stone.
    “Sorry,” he managed to say.
    “There’s no time for that now,” she replied, shrugging off the fact of her murder but not forgetting it, not forgiving.
    *   *   *
    W HEN THEY