Part 79 (1/2)

the sisters with the kind eyes and firm hands, back to morning prayers

and grammar lessons.

She glanced back as her father peeled into ”Soldier Blues.” It was

another song about the war, its hard-edged lyrics set to a harderedged

beat. She didn't know why it appealed to her. Perhaps it was P.M.”s

cymbal-cras.h.i.+ng style or Stevie's frantic, blood-pumping guitar. But

when Johnno's voice merged with Brian's, she lifted her camera.

She liked to take pictures. It never occurred to her that the camera

was too expensive and difficult to master for a child of her age. Just

as it had never occurred to her that giving it had been a sop to Brian's

guilt for tucking her away in an obscure school.

”Emma.”

She turned to study a tall, dark man. He wasn't one of the bodyguards,

she realized, but there was something familiar about his face. Then she

remembered. She smiled a little because he had been kind when he'd come

to see her in the hospital, and he hadn't embarra.s.sed her when she'd

cried on his shoulder.

”Do you remember me?” Lou asked her.

”Yes. You're the policeman.”

”That's right.” He put a hand on the boy beside him, trying to draw his

son's attention away from the group rehearsing. ”This is Michael. I

told you about him.”

She brightened even more, but was too shy to ask him about rollerskating

off rooftops. ”h.e.l.lo.”

”Hi.” He gave her a quick glance, a fleeting smile. It was all he could

spare before his eyes were riveted to the four men in the center of the