Page 95 of Never Flinch

“I’m scared to drink,” Barbara confesses. “Both grandfathers, paternal and maternal, were alcoholics.”

“I haven’t had brown liquor in seven years,” Betty says. “You go on and stay scared. It won’t hurt you none.”

They ride the Ferris wheel, and when it stops at the top, with endless miles of lake disappearing into the morning haze, Betty takes off her kerchief and holds it up, letting it unfurl like a banner. She opens her hand and lets it fly away. They watch it go, a red streak against blue sky. Betty puts an arm around Barbara and gives her a hug, brief but strong. “This is the nicest time I’ve had in awhile.”

“Me too,” Barbara says.

“Listen, now, because I’m speaking truth. That title poem in your book, ‘Faces Change,’ it scared the hell out of me.”

“Me too,” Barbara says.

“Was it a true thing? Did you maybe see something?”

“I did.” The Ferris wheel starts to move, bringing the real world up to meet them. “I’d like to tell myself it wasn’t real, but I think it was.”

Betty nods with perfect understanding. Which is a relief. She doesn’t ask questions, which is a greater one. “Like a dog howling in the moonlight at what it can see and you can’t.”

“Exactly like that.”

They buy ice cream and walk to the end of the pier. The sun is warm, but the breeze coming off the lake is cool. It’s somehow the perfect combination.

“You sing with the Crystals next Saturday night,” Betty says, looking out at the water. “Sing with me. Hear that audience go crazy… because they’re gonna.Thenyou decide. But no matter what, you and I are going to stay tight. That work for you?”

“Yes,” Barbara says, and knows that some day, maybe soon, she’ll tell Betty about what happened in the elevator when Chet Ondowsky showed his real face. Underneath was nothing human. Not even close. Nobody knows about that but Holly and Jerome, but she’s pretty sure Betty—who knows about dogs howling in the moonlight at what only they can see—would understand.

“Good.”

“Can I ask you something, Betty?”

“Anything.”

“What rhymes with jazz?”

Betty thinks about it, then holds up the remains of her ice cream. “Häagen-Dazs,” she says, and they both shriek with laughter.

9

There’s some sort of mix-up about the DoubleTree reservations in Madison, so after brunch the three women have to wait for awhile in the lobby while their rooms are made ready. Kate isn’t happy about that but says nothing. At least not then.

That afternoon Corrie spots her boss in the pool and makes calls while Kate swims her endless laps. Holly goes back to her room and looks at the threats Kate’s stalker has sent. There’s the note Corrie picked up at the hotel desk in Spokane—accompanied by a photo showing Kate and Corrie laughing—and photographs of the anthrax card, outside and in.

Spokane:You only get 1 warning, so receive it well. Next time it will be you and it will be for real. She who speaks lies shall perish.

Omaha: A BASIC CARD FOR BASIC BITCHES on the outside. On the inside: HELL AWAITS THE DECEIVER. Carefully printed. Holly is surer than ever that their stalker is a religious crazy. In the case of Izzy’s killer, maybe not religious (except in the AA/NA sense) but just as crazy.

Oh, and the picture titled LESBIANS. Which makes Holly think of Al Pacino inScarface.

Holly goes back to the email she sent to Izzy, before signing on to Kate McKay’s Magical Mystery Tour.

Nicely turned phrases. Perfect punctuation. Lawyer, or possibly… judge? As in Judge Witterson, who sent Duffrey to prison?

She’s already goofed up once, suggesting Russell Grinsted might be Trig. She won’t do that again. She goes to the website for Buckeye County District Court and finds a photo of Judge Irving Witterson. He looks to be in his late sixties or early seventies, which makes him an unlikely choice for Trig. Nevertheless, she sends the picture to John Ackerly, with a brief note attached, asking if he’s seen this guy at meetings, calling himself Irv… or Irving… or Trig.

Enough. It’s not your case. Get out of this room and breathe some fresh air. Take a walk, clear your head.

It’s a good idea. It never occurs to her to swim in the hotel pool; she knows how to breaststroke and backstroke, her father taught her as a child, but besides worrying about yeast infections, she has none of Kate’s body confidence, and the idea of being seen in public wearing a bathing suit makes her wince.

She doesn’t even get as far as the parking lot. Corrie is sitting outside her room in the sun and crying. When she sees Holly coming, she puts on a smile.

---