While spending the day with Cynthia Byrne was of itself a pleasant contemplation, accompanying relatives to identify corpses, especially those that had been under water for a week, was, in Dean's estimation, right up there with root canals and swift kicks in the you-know-whats. Why had he tortured himself by deciding to be a cop? He could answer that one without any effort-he hadn't decided. He had simply evolved into the profes­sion from his duties in the Army. It was like everything else in his life-don't make a decision, just float along and see what happens.

Before leaving, Dean wrote a message to Lieutenant Anderson about the car that seemed to have followed him. If someone were trying to get a line on the whereabouts of Vinnie Baratto, they would all have to exercise more caution driving to the Pocono hide­out. Rita would convey the message to Jonathan Winston as well allowing Dean to temporarily duck having to explain to the FBI why he played cowboy and lost the tail instead of getting the plate number.

Dean was halfway out to 156 Maid Marian Lane before it dawned on him he'd neglected to pick up his just-in-case change of clothes. By the time he stuffed a duffle bag with slacks, sweater, socks and underwear, he knew he was cutting the time close. It began to mist, just enough for his windshield wipers to skip and hop like a tap dancer as he reached his destination.

Cynthia Byrne was standing at the edge of her driveway when Dean pulled up. She held an umbrella and was dressed in a grey suit. There was a small overnight bag next to her. She looked absolutely terrible. He got out of the car, put his arms around her shoulders and gave her a hug. Dean could feel the tremble of her body through his raincoat.

"Hang in there," he said. "It's almost over."

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"I'm scared to death," was all she answered.

Most of the ride to the Allentown airport was made in silence, save the swish-swish of the windshield wipers. Neither knew the proper thing to say. The weather remained ominous with dark clouds rolling in, pushed by an ever-increasing wind that churned the sky in threatening waves. Although the heavy rain was holding off, there was a feeling it was only a matter of time before the full fury hit.

"Do you think they'll fly in this?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"According to Rita Angeltoni, the seat of all wisdom, this part of the flight's on time. But after the first leg, we're on our own."

She sighed. "I've never flown before...either." Then quickly, "I can't tell you how much I appreciate your coming with me. I never could have done this alone."




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