Stormy Weather

Through the bandages she told Jim Tile: "You look whipped, big guy."

"We're still on double shifts. It's like Daytona out there."

Brenda asked if he'd heard what happened. "Some pawnshop off Kendall-the creep tried to hock my mom's ring."

"Same guy?"

"Sounds like it. The clerk was impressed by the face."

Jim Tile said, "Well, it's a start."

But the news worried him. He had unleashed the governor to deal with Brenda's attacker on the assumption that the governor would move faster than police. However, the pawnshop incident freshened the trail. Now it was possible that Skink's pursuit of the man in the black Cherokee would put him on a collision course with detectives. It was not a happy scenario to contemplate.

"I must look like hell," Brenda said, "because I've never seen you so gloomy."

Of course he'd let it get to him-Brenda lying pale and shattered in the hospital. In his work Jim Tile had seen plenty of blood, pain and heartache, yet he'd never felt such blinding anger as he had that first day at Brenda's bedside. Trusting the justice system to deal with her attacker had struck the trooper as laughably naive, certainly futile. This was a special monster. It was evident by what he'd done to her. The guy hated either women, cops or both. In any case, he was a menace. He needed to be cut from the herd.

Now, upon reflection, Jim Tile wished he'd let his i

"I need to ask you something," Brenda said.

"Sure."

"A detective from Metro Robbery came by today. Also a woman from the State Attorney. They didn't know about the black Jeep."

"Hmmm."

"About the license plate-I figured you'd given them the numbers."

"I made a mistake, Bren."

"You forgot?"

"No, I didn't forget. I made a mistake."

Jim Tile sat on the edge of the bed and told her what he'd done. Afterwards she remained quiet, except to make small talk when a nurse came to dress her wounds.

Later, when she and Jim Tile were alone again, Brenda said, "So you found your crazy friend. How?"

"Doesn't matter."

"And he was right here, in this room, and you didn't introduce me?"

Jim Tile chuckled. "You were zonked, darling."

Brenda stroked his hand. He could tell she was still thinking about it. Finally she said, "Boy, you must really love Jne, to do something like this."

"I screwed up bad. I'm sorry."

"Enough already. I've got one question."

"OK."

"What are the odds," Brenda said, "that your friend will catch up with the asshole who got my mother's ring?"

"The odds are pretty good."

Brenda Rourke nodded and closed her eyes. Jim Tile waited until her breathing was strong and regular; waited until he was certain it was a deep healthy sleep, and not something else. Before leaving, he kissed her cheek, in a gap between bandages, and was comforted by the warmth of her skin. He felt pretty sure he saw the trace of a smile on her lips.

Skink's forehead was propped on the windowsill. He hadn't made a sound in an hour, hadn't stirred when Augustine left to get the guns. Bo

"This was the baby's room. Did you notice?" she said.

Nothing.

"Are you awake?"

Still no response.

A yellowjacket flew through the broken-out window and took an instant liking to Skink's pungent mane. Bo

Eventually the governor spoke. "Oh, they'll be back." He didn't raise his head from the sill.

"Who?"

"Folks who own the baby."

"How can you be sure?"

Silence.

"Maybe the hurricane was all they could take."

"Optimist," Skink grumbled.

Glancing again at the drowned teddy bear, Bo

He said, "I'm sorry it happened to them. I'm sorry they were here in the first place."

"And you'll be even sorrier if they come back."

Skink looked up, blinking like a sleepy porch lizard. "It's a hurricane zone," he said simply.

Bo

The governor used his functional eye to scan the baby's room. He said, "Fuck with Mother Nature and she'll fuck back."

"People have dreams, that's all. Like the settlers of the old West."

"Oh, child."

"What?" Bo

"Tell me what's left to settle." Skink lowered his head again.

She tugged on the sleeve of his camo shirt. "I want you to show me what you showed Max. The wildest part."

§kink clucked. "Why? Your husband certainly wasn't impressed."

"I'm not like Max."

"Let us fervently hope not."

"Please. Will you show me?"

Once more, no reply. Bo

A half hour after the old man had arrived, a taxi pulled up. Out the doorway of 15600 Calusa had scurried a redheaded woman in a tight shiny cocktail dress and formidable high heels. Augustine and Bo