6

Pace was walking through a field of high grass in the woods a quarter of a mile from Dalceda Delahoussaye’s house on a cold, cloudy December day, thinking about what most significantly could have occupied Lula’s thoughts during her last fifteen years, the ones without Sailor. His parents’ undying trust in one another was what Pace admired most about them. There were certain people he trusted, of course, Marnie being one, and he had trusted his ex-wife, Rhoda, too; but it was not the same because the bond between Sailor and Lula had endured what for them had been forever.

A six-point buck came thundering through the grass and passed from right to left directly in front of Pace. Before its odor reached his nostrils and before he heard the shot, a bullet entered just to the right and slightly below Pace’s left shoulder blade. He turned and saw a man wearing eyeglasses and an orange hat with earflaps about fifty yards behind him. The man was holding a rifle. He stood still for a few seconds, then began running away from Pace, toward a dense thicket. Pace reached around with his right hand and tried to touch the spot where the projectile had penetrated his back but he could not find it. Before he fell, Pace looked again for the man wearing an orange hat but he was gone. Lying in the tall grass, Pace stared up at the gathering grey clouds and thought, if ever there were a time for him to be abducted by aliens, this was it.