Chapter Eighty-Nine

Baltimore, Maryland / Saturday, July 4; 1:12 A.M.

BACK AT THE Warehouse we each went our separate ways. Echo Team was already sacked out for the night but Top had left me reams of notes on the new recruits. I put that aside for later and headed off to get clean. In the shower I let the hot water blast me for a long time. I do some of my best thinking in the shower and as I washed, rinsed, and repeated I wondered about who Lester Bellmaker might be and despite furious lathering I came up with nothing.

It was already into the early hours of July 4. I figured we’d head out early and get to Philadelphia in time to add a little security muscle to the event. And if nothing happened . . . at least they have great hot dogs, soft pretzels, and beer in that town.

Back in my room I was bemused to notice that Cobbler had been fed and even his cat litter changed.

When I climbed between the sheets Cobbler crouched at the foot of the bed and stared at me like I was a stranger. I told myself that he was only spooked by having been handled by someone he didn’t know, but I knew that wasn’t really it. It was me. Rudy was right—I’d been changed, too. Cobbler could see it in my eyes and he kept his distance. After five minutes of trying to coax him nearer I gave up and turned out the light.

I could feel him watching me with his wise cat eyes.

I finally fell asleep around one or so but within minutes a tap at the door woke me. It was tentative. I lay in the dark and listened, uncertain whether it was real or part of some complicated dream. Then it came again. Firmer this time.

I switched on the bedside light and padded to the door in sleeping shorts and a T-shirt. There was no peephole or intercom so I unlatched it and peered cautiously through the crack. I guess I expected Rudy, or Church. Maybe Top Sims or Sergeant Dietrich.

I never expected Grace Courtland.