The Dead Have A Thousand Dreams Read Online Free

cops, they
weren’t doing a very good job of it. Alex Tarkashian was on scene
with two other officers, both with extremely low centers of gravity
and neither inspiring much confidence. One was collecting shell
casings in the road. He was wearing latex gloves, which was a good
thing, but he was also picking his nose, which wasn’t.
    The other cop stood by the
Lexus, glumly eating a Quiznos hero. He looked bored and not at all
happy about having to stand out in the sun.
    Alex checked his notes.
“Green Fusion, no plate. Driver in a ski mask. I’ve had more
detailed descriptions in my time.”
    “Whatta you want?” said
Wooly. “It was all fast. That’s all we saw.”
    “And you have no idea about a possible
perp.”
    “What did I tell you last
time? NO. NO. And NO .”
    “Then what the hell do you
expect out of me?”
    “Fuck!” Wooly turned and began pounding on the roof of
his car, thudding the thing so hard he was gonna add another $800
to the repair bill.
    Alex came over to Nickie
and me. Were we all right? Any broken bones? He didn’t seem
especially friendly to Nickie.
    The cop eating the hero
crumpled his Quiznos wrapper up and tossed the ball to the ground.
So much for littering laws.
    “That’s two attempts,” Wooly
shouted. “Plus a death threat.”
    “Don’t remind me,” said
Alex.
    “I’m a fucking target here. Somebody’ s made me a
priority hit.”
    “When you figure
out why , maybe
you’ll let me know.”
    “Not something you could do, is
it?”
    Alex shrugged and started
walking away. “All I can do is what I can do.”
    “Which means farting,”
Wooly muttered, “through your fucking teeth.”
    Alex stopped and whirled
around. “What did you say?”
    “I said it under my
breath.”
    “Your breath is so thick
there’s no way to get under it.” He kept walking.
    Wooly went back to
pounding on his car.
     
    >>>>>>
     
    THURSDAY JUNE 14, 2:40
p.m.
    THERE’S A KIND OF
ANCIENTRY AROUND HERE
    Bad enough that he wasn’t
saying anything. The most shocking development was that he wasn’t
eating anything. Genevieve offered him lasagna, tuna salad, cold
chicken, cracklins, mac and cheese, prosciutto, cornbread,
pancakes, oranges, strawberries, brownies, rice pudding. Wooly just
sat at the kitchen table, totally tuned out, not even
here.
    Nickie told Genevieve that
the Lexus would be okay. The car’d been towed, the dealer was
sending over a loaner. She also said that the next time Wooly went
to work, she’d map out some different routes.
    Genevieve sat next to her
husband. “He can get like this at times.” She touched his arm. “Say
something.” She gently shook him. “Wooly, say something.”
    “I’m going to die. I
really am going to die.” He sounded all caved inside, like he’d
been hollowed out by sickness.
    Genevieve sighed, got up,
walked around the kitchen, wandered over to one of the windows and
stood looking at the woods outside. “Why don’t you take a walk, go
see the rock? Doesn’t it always calm you?”
    “What’s the rock?” I
said.
    “No,” said Wooly. “It’s
too sweaty out.”
    “Why don’t you take Quinn
to the rock,” said Genevieve. “He’s never seen it before.” She
looked at Nickie. “That would be all right, wouldn’t
it?”
    Nickie nodded. “Long as
Quinn’s carrying.”
    Genevieve came back to the
table, put her hands on Wooly’s shoulders and began massaging him.
“Why don’t you take Quinn. Why don’t you tell him the
story.”
    Head down, Wooly seemed to
be measuring something, considering it, reconsidering it. He looked
up at me, suddenly little-boy bashful. “You have the
time?”
    “All the time in the
world.”
     
    >>>>>>
     
    I’ll never forget what
it’s like to walk into the Paumanok. You pass through walls of
50-foot-high oaks and pitch pines, and after only a few moments the
silence falls over you like a curtain. All the background buzz of
the world, the hum you always hear but never notice, it