Saint played the interview tapes in her apartment. Tapes she had not listened to in more than a decade.
She sat there the whole night, the blind open to a waning moon and city sounds and the comfort of car engines.
Her own map pinned to the wall.
On the stereo the sound of Patch’s voice, fourteen years old, as he recounted verbatim each word Grace had said.
“She told me about the sky at Baldy Point, how Lake Altus-Lugert spills from the dam, crashing its way along the Fork Red River.”
Saint marked the Quartz Mountain State Park and the burial site of Sky Jones.
“The gold rush. From California to summer in Colorado’s Kingdom. Of course, it’s not just precious metal buried in no-man’s-land, but you get the idea.”
Saint marked Breckenridge. Summer Reynolds.
She paced the room, head light as she breathed deep and tried to calm the adrenaline kick.
“How long have I been here?” he said.
“Ten sleeps.”
“It must have been more than—”
“Your head is up in the—”
“Clouds,” Patch said.
“Yeah, but the peak of the clouds, with the angel. You see the Misty Moon from up there?”
Saint marked the Tensleep Creek. Fed from Cloud Peak. Angela Rossi.
She paced again. Sat through two more hours.
“Paint me,” she said.
“I need to see you.”
“I’m standing on a north shore, pink beneath my feet because nor’easters strip rhyolite so pretty I can’t even bear it. Maybe it’ll preserve me or something. Forty-two miles down with the crystals. Mummified in pink. I hope to hell I keep my looks.”
Saint marked mile forty-two of the North Shore scenic drive. By the pink beach. Crystal Wright.
Saint sat back, the room spinning, still dizzy when she picked up the phone and dialed Himes.
“Grace.”
“What about her?” he said.
“She was leading us to the other girls.”
He took the news with maddening evenness. “How many?”
“Four. So far. But I still have a couple hours of tape.”
“Anything else?”
Saint played it again. Loud.
“Maybe one day I’ll be the first to see him after the Resurrection.”
“Mary Magdalene was the first to see Jesus after the Resurrection,” Himes said.
“And if I’m chosen, he’ll send me back to the three persons.”
“The Trinity,” Himes said.
“And they’ll hollow me out. Watch my blood flow over black rock like I never even was.”
“What does it mean?” Himes said.
“Something,” Saint said. “It all means something.”