"You're welcome, and my deepest condolences." Nat introduced Angus again, as one little boy chased another into the kitchen, yelling for his Game Boy. Jennifer took off after them.

"My grandchildren have a lot of energy. We feed them too well." Mrs. Cracy smiled, then looked again at Nat and Angus. "Goodness, the two of you are the walking wounded."

"We're fine." Nat was feeling tense again. "Is your daughter around?"

Barb's upstairs resting, but she wants to see you." If she's not up to it, I could come back another time." No, she's waiting for you. Come with me." Mrs. Cracy faced Angus, gesturing to the food. "I'll come right back and fix you a ham sandwich. It's honey baked."

"I've eaten, thanks." Angus winked at Nat. "I'll wait for you here."

Mrs. Cracy led the way from the kitchen and back through the crowd, and Nat felt every pair of eyes on her as she climbed the shag-carpeted stairs and disappeared from their view, into the darkness of a second-floor hallway. Leading her, Mrs. Cracy said, "We keep the lights off because Barb gets migraines when she's under stress. It's the second door, up ahead."

"Poor thing. How terrible."

"She's had them since she was a little girl. Light is a big no-no. No caffeine or chocolate, either." Mrs. Cracy continued down the hall, and Nat almost bumped into her when the older woman stopped short and opened a door. "Barb, honey?" she whispered. Over Mrs. Cracy's shoulder, Nat could see that the bedroom looked unusually dark, with blackout shades drawn almost all the way down, flanked by white sheers.

"Yeah, Ma?" a weak voice said.

"She's here. How're you?"

"Good, so far. It's holding off. Let her come in. Are the kids okay?"

"They're fine. That Game Boy is worth every penny."

"Can I see her? She's there?"

"Right here." Mrs. Cracy put a gentle hand on Nat's elbow and guided her forward.

"Hi, Barb. I'm Nat Greco." She entered the bedroom, feeling completely intrusive.

"Come on in. I'm the Princess of Darkness." Barb Saunders propped herself up on two pillows on a king-size bed, in a formless gray sweatsuit. She finger-raked her short light hair in the darkness. "Mom, you can go. Thanks."

"You need more water, honey?"

"Got plenty." Barb motioned to Nat. "Please, come in. I'd turn on a lamp but I get migraines. I'm trying to hold one off."

"I'm so sorry." Nat entered the room, hovering by the bed as the door closed softly behind her. The bedroom was simply furnished, with an oak chest of drawers on the left wall and a long mirror above it. Photos and a brown jewelry box sat on the dresser, a man's white T-shirt spilled from a plastic hamper onto the shaggy rug, and a child's plastic helicopter lay on its side nearby. A roll of toilet paper sat on the bed and wads of it dotted the floral bedspread. Nat didn't want to think about how long Barb Saunders had been crying. She said, "I hate to bother you today. So soon."

"No, please. You're the only one I wanted to see. As soon as I heard about you, I was praying you'd call." Barb gathered the toilet paper balls and patted the bed beside her. "Would you mind sitting here? My head hurts too much to sit up."

"This is fine. Don't bother yourself." Nat perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed. In the dim light she could see the roundish face of a pretty woman, with puffy eyes, maybe blue, and a small, upturned nose that also looked slightly swollen. Her mouth was a Cupid's bow, drawn with grief at the corners. "I'm so sorry about your loss."

"Thanks. Oh… boy." Barb's hand went to her forehead, and Nat could see her wincing in the dark, her forehead buckling in apparent pain.

"Are you okay?"

"Hold on. Are you wearing perfume?"

"Yes." Nat didn't have to think. She always wore perfume. Today, her Sarah Jessica Parker.

"Oh no." Barb held her forehead again and eased back onto the pillows.

"What. What is it?"

"Smells like that, they help bring it on."

Your migraine? Oh, no! I'm so sorry." Nat jumped up instantly, backing away. "Maybe this isn't the best time. I can come back."

But I want… to talk to you. I just want to hear how… it was for him, at the end. You were with him, right? At the end? I mean… the very end?"

"Yes, I was with him." Nat felt stricken, standing off from the bed. Could she do one damn thing right? "Listen, I think I should come back."

Barb let out a low moan, in frustration and pain. "I waited too long to take the Imitrex, and now it's not working."

"This is too much of a strain. Let's not do this now. Let me come back another day. Whenever you want me to. I want to talk to you, too."

"Tomorrow's the viewing, then the funeral. But how about the day after that?"

"Sure, fine." Nat would find the time. She'd be here. The toy helicopter. The widow in pain. Saunders's undershirt still in the hamper. It all hurt, and she hadn't even known the poor man. She backed toward the bedroom door. "I'll come back. It's no problem."

"Get my mom, would you?"

"Sure thing. See you." Nat opened the bedroom door and hurried into the hall.

Relieved, and dismayed, that she had to go.

Nat and Angus threaded their way to the front door to leave, having gotten Mrs. Cracy upstairs to tend to Barb. The crowd in the living room had grown, and Nat had almost reached the door when she spotted a familiar man among them. At first she couldn't place him, then she flashed on the same face in a different place and time. His brown hair in disarray. His eyes stricken with fear and shock. It was the CO. who had come out of the room where Saunders and the inmate lay dead.

Nat willed the crowded living room back into focus. The CO. was short but brawny, dressed in a blue flannel shirt worn under a black down vest, and he stood near the door with an Asian woman. His wavy brown hair looked as if it had been combed with water, his brown eyes were bracketed by crow's-feet, and he had a faint red bump on his right cheek, near his eye. Angus must have seen him first, because he was already making his way to him. The CO. started to shake his hand, but Angus wrapped him in a bear hug that only caused the man to stiffen. The crowd craned their necks.

Natalie, meet Joe Graf." Angus looked around to Nat, his eyes bright. This man has a right hook you wouldn't believe. He dropped Buford. I mean dropped him."

Nat introduced herself. "I owe you, too, Mr. Graf. Thanks so much for getting me out of there yesterday. I don't know what would have happened without you."

"I was only doin my job." Graf barely smiled, his mouth a tight line, as if he were self-conscious about his teeth. He turned to the petite Asian woman beside him who had a sorrowful expression. "This is my wife, Jai-Wen."

"Pleased to meet you. Sorry it had to be on such a sad day." Nat shook her hand, and the woman murmured a hello in accented English.

Graf shook his head. "I got Ron the job, you know. We worked together eleven years."

"He is our best man." Jai-Wen's eyes shone with a film of fresh tears. She had a tiny black brush of a ponytail and wore a burgundy coat with her jeans and white snow boots. "I can't believe he gone. Me and Barb always worry that something happen to Joe and Ron, and all the husband."

"Let's take this outside," Graf said abruptly. "I need a smoke anyways."

"Great, sure," Angus said, as they said goodbye to Jai-Wen and went outside. They hit the cold air and closed the door behind them. Nat walked down the steps to the snowy front walk, and Angus shoved his hands in his pockets again.

"Cold enough for ya?" Graf reached inside his coat and pulled out a pack of Winstons with a green Bic lighter inside.

"Ten degrees colder than in the city." Angus shifted his feet.