This was slightly different. This had begun right around the moment Salcedo showed up. All of a sudden, it was like he’d started feeling…territorial.

A nurse carrying a meds tray needed to get into Gwen’s room. They parted the way for her. As the door opened, Worth caught a glimpse of Gwen, sitting up in the bed, looking out the window. She saw the nurse and smiled. Even when it was directed toward somebody else, he could feel the smile all the way out in the hall.

By the time the door eased shut, Worth was forced to acknowledge what Vince had known purely out of instinct: He’d fallen for this girl.

Get it together. The stakes were too high to be running around with some kid-stuff crush on a college girl with pretty eyes. This would be exactly the sort of bullshit that ended up ruining everything. Worth knew it. Whatever he’d thought he was doing, whatever he’d hoped to accomplish, it would all be for nothing in the end.

The fact was, Ray Salcedo seemed okay. Worth couldn’t be around Gwen all the time, and even if he could, it wouldn’t look square.

And Gwen was obviously holding her own so far. Given the situation at this point, frankly, the more cops on board, the better.

“Thanks, guys,” Detective Kenna said. “This girl’s easy to like. You know? Be nice if it ended up right.”

“Agreed,” Worth said.

“Absolutely,” said Ray.

Kenna said, “Officers.”

She headed for the elevators, heels clicking, working her way into her coat as she walked. Ray Salcedo gave Worth a nod and caught up with her.

Before he turned away, Worth saw Salcedo lifting Marly Kenna’s coat so that she could get her other arm into the sleeve. He saw Marly Kenna shrug, bat his hand away. Then she slapped him on the arm just for good measure.

But not too hard.

You said you were going to call me.

Ray Salcedo held up the business card she’d given him. Worth couldn’t hear what he said. But she laughed.

They got on the elevator with a maintenance guy, a nurse pushing an old man in a wheelchair, and a doc in scrubs who looked tired and late.

Worth watched the doors close on all of them.

Then he turned, opened Gwen’s door, and went inside.

20

The setup for the new TV spot consisted of a span of fifteen-pound sign paper stretched over an aluminum frame six feet square.

The signage was a blowup of the ad Eddie had run in the Sunday newspaper. In the center of the ad was a picture of a Homelite chain saw, made to look like it was coming out of the page, encircled by snowy pine boughs.

The bit with the pine branches had been Darla’s idea. She’d also used her computer to make Hundred-Year Storm Sale! look like it was carved out of ice. She’d put snow along the tops of the letters, even made the exclamation point look like an icicle. The woman had talent, that was all there was to it. Eddie sometimes wondered how long he’d be able to keep her happy in the back office of a furniture store.

“Okay,” Wade Benson said. “Cue chain saw.”

From behind the paper came the sound of a stagehand pulling a starter rope. After a couple of tries, a chain saw whined to life, then settled into an idle growl.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders and ran his lines one last time in his head. He itched all over, and he was sweating like a sonofabitch.

Wade did the three, two, one thing with his fingers. He pointed to the cameraman.

Rolling.

Wade pointed to the voice guy.

“Don’t get caught in the cold,” the voice guy said. He sat under a boom mike in the corner, but he was just there for timing; Wade said they’d dub the voice-over later, in the editing room, so you wouldn’t hear the chain saw racket in the background before it was time. “Come on down to the Hundred-Year Storm Sale at Tice Is Nice Quality Used and Discount Furniture, where the prices are…”

The chain saw revved and came tearing through the center of the paper, cutting off the voice guy in mid spiel. The actor kicked his way through the slit and brandished the saw over his head. He had the coveralls, the hockey mask. The whole nine yards.

Wade pointed to Eddie.

“Raaaarrr,” Eddie Tice said.

He lumbered into the camera frame, spreading his abominable claws high and wide. It was the same exact snow beast costume the actor now playing the chain saw maniac had worn for the initial Hundred-Year Storm spot yesterday morning. The inside of the suit was still damp with day-old stranger sweat when Eddie pulled it on.

After chasing the chain saw maniac out of the picture, Eddie lifted off the shaggy white head. He tossed the head aside, pointed to the camera, and said:

“Forget the cold! Don’t let early winter ruin your Halloween. Come down to Tice Is Nice tomorrow night for our one-day-only Spooktacular! We’ll slash our Storm Sale prices to positively ghoulish new lows.”

Here was where the spot would cut to the new graphics Darla had done up. Bats and skeletons and megadeals.

“And don’t forget to bring the kids! Safe, warm, indoor trick-or-treating begins right here at six P.M. We’ll stay open ’til the witching hour. Shake off the ice at Tice Is Nice!”

“Cut!” Wade Benson said. He gave a satisfied nod. “Way to go, Eddie. I think we got it that time.”

“Thank Christ. I’m broiling in this fucking thing.”

Wade gave the voice guy a thumbs-up. “Great job, Otis.”

The voice guy hung an unlit cigarette between his lips and performed a little bow.

“Hey, Wade?” The chain saw maniac pulled off his mask. “I just thought of something.”

“Sure,” Wade Benson said.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way?”

“Shouldn’t what be the other way?”

“Well…” the young actor said. “The script says don’t let winter ruin Halloween. Right?”

“That’s right.”

“So shouldn’t the chain saw maniac chase off the snow monster?”

“I’m not sure I’m following.”

The actor put the chain saw down and blocked out the movement of the commercial with his hands. “Like, if the snow monster chases off the chain saw maniac…you know? Halloween loses.”

“I see what you’re saying.” Wade glanced over his shoulder at Eddie and rolled his eyes. “But it’s not a real snow monster, right? It’s Eddie in a snow monster costume. Costume, Halloween, there you go.”

“So it’s like…Halloween against Halloween?”

“I think you’re overanalyzing it,” Wade said. “People will get the idea.”

“Okay.” The actor shrugged. “So, is that a wrap? I got a thing across town at three.”

“We’re done. Thanks, Andy. Nice work.”

Andy the chain saw maniac tipped a salute, left the hockey mask and the saw behind, and hustled toward the dressing room.

Eddie went straight to the water cooler. Wade met him there, chuckling.

“Jesus,” he said.

“Where do you find these fucking dipshits?” Eddie filled a paper cup and knocked it back. “I swear.”

“Actually, the kid does sort of have a point. It doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense.”

“It’s fine.”

“Good enough for a town this size.” Wade paused. “Hey, Ed. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Eddie gulped more water. “Why?”

“Because you look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“I thought you looked like shit yesterday, but I didn’t mention it. Today you look like dogshit.”

“I’m wearing a goddamn ape suit, Wade. Give a guy a break.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I mean,” Wade said. “Two spots in two days, Eddie?”

“Ahhh,” Eddie said. “Okay.”

Wade Benson was an old college buddy; he did all of Eddie’s production work in exchange for an at-cost discount at the store and the occasional eightball of blow.

“Say no more. I’ll pay for the time if it’s a problem.”