Under the Dome

“You’re under arrest, you crazy bitch,” Fred said. He pushed his face—pale, sweaty, the eyes seeming ready to pop right out of their sockets—close enough to hers for her to feel the spray of his spittle. “Anything you say can and will be used against your crazy ass.”

On the other side of the street, diners were pouring out of Sweet-briar Rose, Barbie among them, still wearing his apron and baseball cap. Julia Shumway arrived first.

She took in the scene, not seeing details so much as a gestalt summation: dead dog; clustered cops; bleeding, screaming woman with one shoulder higher than the other; bald cop—Freddy goddam Denton—shaking her by the arm connected to that shoulder; more blood on the steps, suggesting that Piper had fallen down them. Or had been pushed.

Julia did something she had never done before in her life: reached into her handbag, flipped her wallet open, and climbed the steps, holding it out, yelling “Press! Press! Press!”

It stopped the shaking, at least.

9

Ten minutes later, in the office that had been Duke Perkins’s not so long ago, Carter Thibodeau sat on the sofa under Duke’s framed pictures and certificates, with a fresh bandage on his shoulder and paper towels around his hand. Georgia was sitting beside him. Large beads of painsweat stood out on Thibodeau’s forehead, but after saying “I don’t think nothin’s broken,” he was silent.

Fred Denton sat in a chair in the corner. His gun was on the Chief’s desk. He had surrendered it willingly enough, only saying, “I had to do it—just look at Cart’s hand.”

Piper sat in the office chair that was now Peter Randolph’s. Julia had mopped most of the blood off Piper’s face with more paper towels. The woman was shivering with shock and in great pain, but she was as silent about it as Thibodeau. Her eyes were clear.

“Clover only attacked him”—she raised her chin to Carter—“after he pushed me down the stairs. The push caused me to lose hold of the leash. What my dog did was justified. He was protecting me from a criminal assault.”

“She attacked us!” Georgia cried. “Crazy bitch attacked us! Came up the steps spouting all this shit—”

“Shut up,” Barbie said. “All of you, shut the hell up.” He looked at Piper. “This isn’t the first time you’ve dislocated your shoulder, is it?”

“I want you out of here, Mr. Barbara,” Randolph said… but he spoke with no great conviction.

“I can deal with this,” Barbie said. “Can you?”

Randolph made no reply. Mel Searles and Frank DeLesseps stood outside the door. They looked worried.

Barbie turned back to Piper. “This is a subluxation—a partial separation. Not bad. I can pop it back in before you go to the hospital—”

“Hospital?” Fred Denton squawked. “She’s under arr—”

“Shut up, Freddy,” Randolph said. “Nobody’s under arrest. At least not yet.”

Barbie held Piper’s eyes with his own. “But I have to do it now, before the swelling gets bad. If you wait for Everett to do it at the hospital, they’ll have to give you anesthesia.” He leaned close to her ear and murmured, “While you’re out, they’ll be telling their side and you won’t be telling yours.”

“What are you saying?” Randolph asked sharply.

“That it’s going to hurt,” Barbie said. “Right, Rev?”

She nodded. “Go on. Coach Gromley did it right on the sidelines, and she was a total dope. Just hurry. And please don’t screw it up.”

Barbie said: “Julia, grab a sling from the first aid kit, then help me lie her down on her back.”

Julia, very pale and feeling ill, did as she was told.

Barbie sat down on the floor to Piper’s left, slipped off one shoe, and then grasped her forearm just above her wrist with both hands. “I don’t know Coach Gromley’s method,” he said, “but this is how a medic I knew in Iraq did it. You’re going to count to three and then yell wishbone.”

“Wishbone,” Piper said, bemused in spite of the pain. “Well okay, you’re the doctor.”

No, Julia thought—Rusty Everett was now the closest thing the town had to a doctor. She’d contacted Linda and gotten his cell phone number, but her call had been immediately shunted to voicemail.

The room was silent. Even Carter Thibodeau was watching. Barbie nodded to Piper. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, but she had her game-face on, and Barbie respected the shit out of that. He slipped his sock-foot into her left armpit, snugging it tight. Then, while pulling slowly but steadily on her arm, he applied counter pressure with his foot.

“Okay, here we go. Let’s hear you.”

“One… two… three… WISHBONE! ”

When Piper shouted, Barbie pulled. Everyone in the room heard the loud thunk as the joint went back into place. The hump in Piper’s blouse magically disappeared. She screamed but didn’t pass out. He slipped the sling over her neck and around the arm, immobilizing it as well as he could.

“Better?” he asked.

“Better,” she said. “Much, thank God. Still hurts, but not as bad.”

“I’ve got some aspirin in my purse,” Julia said.