"Whatever you say, Chief. Right."
"Thanks." Henderson flicked the set off. He looked over at the gun on the table. He picked it up, took it with him into the bedroom. He laid it on the unoccupied pillow next the sleeping woman's head. He didn't look down at her now. He quietly went back to the living room, went to a black metallic desk up against a wall. From it he took a very small box with a little gold plate inset in the lid. Engraving on the plate winked up in the light:
From Sarah to John
Wedding present.
He lifted the lid, looked down at a tiny reel of tape inside. He touched a button under the lid. Music filled the room quite softly for a moment. Organ music. Wedding music. And then no more music. But voices, a man's voice, and a woman's voice. When it got to the part where the woman's voice said, "I take thee, John ..." he stopped it. He re-reeled the tape, put it back where it had been before. Then his trembling fingers touched the erase button, held it there until the entire little reel had run off.
After that there wasn't anything else to do but go to the front lock, go outside, go away from Residential Number 327. The night was dark, very dark. A very good night for the Rain.