‘Perhaps I can do something.’ She came within a yard of him and stopped, her eyes on the gun.
‘Your door’s locked. I tried to get in.’
‘I always keep it locked. Do you want to lie on the bed?’
‘Maybe I’d better not. I don’t want to get you into trouble. I may die on you.’ He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Are you sure the cops aren’t looking for me?’
‘There was an accident,’ she said, refusing to lie to him. ‘They found a dead man in a car outside.’
‘A dead man? You’re sure he’s dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s Hater,’ he said. ‘I remember now. He’s dead, is he?’
She didn’t say anything.
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he said, his mind groping vaguely into the past. ‘I forgot about him. We tied him and hid him under a blanket, then my arm got bad and I forgot about him. I forgot about everything except you. I’ve driven over five hundred miles to see you.’