EPILOGUE

 

We had to come back to Palmetto Bay three times between Labor Day and Christmas. Candace decided to stay with Lonnie Patrick and his family in Tallahassee because of the trial, and wound up getting both a place of her own and a job working in a crisis clinic. She had a hell of a resume'.

Each time we came we stayed with Torrea at the farm. She'd had a double-wide trailer moved onto the land, and was attempting to put together a last edition of The Walker's Companion, a tribute to Mel Shiver. Her insurance company came through on the fire, and an enormous lawsuit against the government was pending. It was one of many. She told us of her plans to write a book. "I still feel hollow," she said, holding our hands.

The trial will never end. Not as long as lawyers live and breathe. Some of the minor players had already been found guilty by Christmas,, but so far stiff fines and community service were the orders of the court for the top shelf folks. Even those were under appeal. I was paying Mr. Robert Booth Holmes on a lifetime installment plan.

I'm sure everything is still in place for that New Order. It sits now, quietly waiting for another opportunity. There's an interim sheriff in the county, and a new governor in the state house.

Mark is working his way back up, I hope.

Willis, Addie and the kids are living in my old house. They've painted it different colors, and Addie planted flowers along the front. The neighbors think the Traxlers are wonderful. The children love the aquarium and have it filled with goldfish and black mollies.