Under the Dome

Rusty was suddenly aware he had an audience, and that many among it had voted for Jim Rennie again and again. “Just think about this, Lin. And think about who Pete Randolph works for.”

“Linda!” Jackie called.

Linda Everett left with her head dropped. She didn’t look back. Rusty was okay until she got into the car. Then he began to tremble. He thought if he didn’t sit down soon, he might fall down.

A hand fell on his shoulder. It was Twitch. “You okay, boss?”

“Yes.” As if saying so would make it so. Barbie had been hauled off to jail and he’d had his first real argument with his wife in—what?—four years? More like six. No, he wasn’t okay.

“Got a question,” Twitch said. “If those people were murdered, why’d they take the bodies to the Bowie Funeral Home instead of bringing them here for postmortem examination? Whose idea was that?”

Before Rusty could reply, the lights went out. The hospital generator had finally run dry.

9

After watching them polish off the last of her chop suey (which had contained the last of her hamburger), Claire motioned the three children to stand in front of her in the kitchen. She looked at them solemnly and they looked back—so young and scarily determined. Then, with a sigh, she handed Joe his backpack. Benny peered inside and saw three PB&Js, three deviled eggs, three bottles of Snapple, and half a dozen oatmeal-raisin cookies. Although still full of lunch, he brightened. “Most excellent, Mrs. McC.! You are a true—”

She paid no heed; all her attention was fixed on Joe. “I understand that this could be important, so I’m going along. I’ll even drive you out there if you—”

“Don’t have to, Mom,” Joe said. “It’s an easy ride.”

“Safe, too,” Norrie added. “Hardly anyone on the roads.”

Claire’s eyes were locked on her son’s in the Mom Death-Stare. “But I need two promises. First, that you’ll be home before dark… and I don’t mean the last gasp of twilight, either, I mean while the sun is still up. Second, if you do find something, mark its location and then leave it utterly and completely alone. I accept that you three might be the best people to look for this whatever-it-might-be, but dealing with it is a job for adults. So do I have your word? Give it to me or I’ll have to come with you as your chaperone.”

Benny looked doubtful. “I’ve never been down Black Ridge Road, Mrs. McC., but I’ve been past it. I don’t think your Civic would exactly be, like, up to the task.”

“Then promise me or you stay right here, how’s that?”

Joe promised. So did the other two. Norrie even crossed herself.

Joe started to shoulder the backpack. Claire slipped in her cell phone. “Don’t lose that, mister.”

“I won’t, Mom.” Joe was shifting from foot to foot, anxious to be gone.

“Norrie? Can I trust you to put the brakes on if these two get crazy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Norrie Calvert said, as if she hadn’t dared death or disfigurement on her skateboard a thousand times just in the last year. “You sure can.”

“I hope so,” she said. “I hope so.” Claire rubbed at her temples as if she were getting a headache.

“Awesome lunch, Mrs. McC.!” Benny said, and held up his hand. “Slap me five.”

“Dear God, what am I doing?” Claire asked. Then she slapped him five.

10

Behind the chest-high front desk in the Police Department lobby, where people came to complain about such troubles as theft, vandalism, and the neighbor’s ceaselessly barking dog, was the ready room. It contained desks, lockers, and a coffee station where a grouchy sign announced COFFEE AND DONUTS ARE NOT FREE. It was also the booking area. Here Barbie was photographed by Freddy Denton and fingerprinted by Henry Morrison while Peter Randolph and Denton stood close by with their guns drawn.

“Limp, keep em limp!” Henry shouted. This was not the man who had enjoyed talking with Barbie about the Red Sox–Yankees rivalry over lunch at Sweetbriar Rose (always a BLT with a dill pickle spear on the side). This was a fellow who looked like he’d enjoy punching Dale Barbara in the nose. Hard. “You don’t roll em, I do, so keep em limp!”

Barbie thought of telling Henry it was hard to relax your hands when you were standing this close to men with guns, especially if you knew the men wouldn’t mind using them. He kept his mouth shut instead, and concentrated on relaxing his hands so Henry could roll the prints. And he wasn’t bad at it, not at all. Under other circumstances Barbie might have asked Henry why they were bothering, but he held his tongue on this subject, as well.

“All right,” Henry said when he judged the prints clear. “Take him downstairs. I want to wash my hands. I feel dirty just touching him.”

Jackie and Linda had been standing to one side. Now, as Randolph and Denton holstered their guns and grabbed Barbie’s arms, the two women drew their own. They were pointed down but ready.

“I’d puke up everything you ever fed me, if I could,” Henry said. “You disgust me.”

“I didn’t do it,” Barbie said. “Think about it, Henry.”