I roll my eyes, shake my head, and glance at Harry. “You talk to her.”

“Not that I want to discourage you from exercising your god-given right of self-defense,” says Harry, “but I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“You don’t think I can do it?” she says.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” says Harry. “Nobody in their right mind would come after you if they knew you were armed. But if Herman’s right, Liquida’s a mental case. So he’s not likely to be dissuaded by the fact that you’re packing a gun. Even if he knows it’s there.”

“Good. Then I’ll kill him,” she says.

“Just like that,” says Harry.

“You bet. Give me a gun and show me how to use it,” she says.

“Not me. I haven’t figured out how to get the pistol out of the fanny pack yet,” says Harry.

“Where is it?” I ask.

“Not to worry. It’s in my car. Locked in the trunk. Right next to the shotgun,” he says.

“What shotgun?” I ask.

“One I bought yesterday. Biggest twelve-gauge pump I could find, a barrel longer than my uncle Willie’s dick. If I’m gonna have to pack a gun, I want him to see it. That way, even if Liquida’s crazy, maybe he’ll be less likely to come visiting.”

“Your uncle Willie’s dick?” says Sarah.

“A manner of speaking,” says Harry.

“Well, there you go,” says Sarah. “So now we have an extra gun.”

“It’s not a matter of guns,” I tell her.

“Why not?”

“Your dad’s right,” says Herman. “It’s a question of sleep.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look around the table and tell me what you see. Four tired people,” says Herman, “all of us on edge. And it’s only been three nights since they found Jenny. A couple more nights and some of us are gonna get the jitters. At that point I’m gonna be collecting all the guns. Otherwise we’ll be shooting each other in the dark. We won’t have to worry about Liquida. Besides, you go off on your own and he comes after you, he’ll come when you least expect it. Gun or no gun. He’ll wait until you get too tired, or till you think it’s safe. He’ll come when you’re asleep, like he did with your friend Jenny. Or when you’re walkin’ to your car after work. You’ll have to grow eyes in the back of your head, and stay awake around the clock. You think you can do that?”

“I don’t know, but I can try,” she says.

“And do you really think your dad’s gonna let you do it alone?” He smiles at her because they both know the answer to this. “Give it up ’cause it ain’t gonna work. We gotta find somewhere safe, simple as that, and there’s no way around it,” he says.

“And what about all of you?” she says. “Where are you going to hide?”

“Harry’s going with you, at least for the time being,” I tell her.

“So you’ve worked this all out?” she says.

“We have,” says Harry. “You can ride shotgun during the drive.”

“May I ask where I’m going?”

“Not right now. But shortly after you leave, Herman and I will disappear,” I tell her. “We’ve got some work to do.”

“And if I don’t go?” she says.

“Then you’re putting all of us in jeopardy,” I say. “Because we can’t get out of here unless you do.”

“So that’s it,” she says.

“I’m afraid so,” I tell her.

“I still don’t like it,” she says.

“None of us do,” says Herman. “Had my way, I’d kill the bastard now and get a good night’s sleep. Problem is I don’t know where he’s at.”

“If we knew where he was, we could call the police,” says Sarah.

“Why waste a dime?” says Herman. “Besides, cops and courts are like fishermen-catch and release. Far as I’m concerned, a man threatens my life, it’s open season.” He stands up and almost hits his head on the light fixture high over the table.

“You mean you’d just shoot him?” she says.

“Not necessarily,” says Herman. “I might not want to make that much noise.” Herman gives Sarah one of his big smiles.

“Is he kidding?” She looks at me.

“I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Good. Then I’ll go along with the program on two conditions,” says Sarah. “You keep me posted on everything that’s happening. No more secrets.”

“Agreed. And what’s the second condition?”

“I want Mr. Diggs to teach me how to shoot when he has some time.”

“You got it,” says Herman.

“Make the call,” I tell him.

Herman takes the cell phone from his belt and starts pushing buttons as he strolls toward the living room.

I spend the next hour helping Sarah pack. About forty-five minutes in, I hear a vehicle pull into the driveway out in front. I step into my bedroom and look through the front window. It’s a large white van, two guys getting out. They’re wearing white overalls and baseball caps. One of them is pushing a small laundry hamper filled with coiled sections of large, ribbed gray rubber hose.

“It’s my people,” Herman whispers up from downstairs. “Don’t worry, you got plenty of time. Paul, can you come down? One thing we need to take care of.”

“Be right there,” I tell him. “Can you finish up?” I ask Sarah.

“Yes.” She’s on her computer taking care of some last-minute business.

“Be right back.” I hear the men coming through the front door with their equipment. I head for the stairs.

“What do I do with my mail?” says Sarah. “Can I have it forwarded?”

“I don’t know. Let me think about it. Why don’t you wait? We can talk about it when you get back there.”

“I don’t want to wait.”

“Gimme a second,” I tell her.

“Besides, I’ve got a paycheck coming. Everything’s gonna pile up in the mailbox. Did you think about that?”

“No, it won’t.” I hold up on the stairs so she can hear me without my yelling. “I had my mail and the household stuff sent to the business PO box. The secretaries will take care of it there and pay the bills. I set it up so they can write checks.”

“Oh, right,” says Sarah. “Took care of your stuff. Sounds like you’ve been thinking about this for a while. Nice of you to let me in on it.”

“Give me a minute,” I tell her.

Herman introduces me to his crew and we talk about how it should go down, the number of bags to be loaded, and I make sure they have the right address for the next stop.

The two men spend the next twenty minutes connecting the sections of hose, hooking up one end to the motor in the back of the van while they haul in carpet-cleaning equipment for the other end. They turn on the motor in the back of the van, loud enough that half the neighborhood can now hear it. For the next forty minutes, one of them puts his hand over the open suction hose every so often to drown the motor down while the other one starts a routine rolling the laundry hamper back and forth. The first load contains Sarah’s two rolling luggage bags laid in the bottom of the hamper under several large white towels. On the second run I shake Harry’s hand.

“Not to worry. I’ll take care of her,” he says.

“I know you will. Let her share the driving. It’s a long trip. It’ll help keep her mind off things. What do you figure, how many days?” I ask him.

“Four, maybe five. Depends on the weather and traffic.”

“Drive carefully.”

“Will do.” Harry sits down in the hamper. They cover him with the towels and he goes for the ride. It takes both of the guys to lift the heavy hamper inside the van, out of sight. A minute or so later they come back out with the empty hamper.

I hug Sarah, hold her as tight as I can, and give her a kiss on the cheek and the forehead. “I love you. I’ll call you tonight. Keep your cell phone charged. And don’t send anything with your address on it, no e-mails, no letters, don’t tell any of your friends.”

“Got it, Dad.”

“We’ll get past this. I promise. I know it’s hard.”

“Don’t worry about me. Love you.” She is starting to tear up. “Please be careful,” she says.

“Not to worry,” I tell her. “Herman is with me, remember?”

“I know,” she says. “Still…”

“I’ll be careful.”

A few seconds later, she’s in the hamper, covered with towels and being rolled out the door.