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"Make
connections," Ben said.
"The world
is coming down around our ears and you're sticking at a few vampires."
"'Salem's
Lot is my town," Susan said stubbornly. "If something is happening
there, it's real. Not philosophy."
"I couldn't
agree with you more," he said, and touched the bandage on his head with
a rueful finger. "And your ex packs a hell of a right."
"I'm sorry.
That's a side of Floyd I never saw. I can't understand it."
"Where is he
now?"
"In the town
drunk tank. Parkins Gillespie told my mom he should turn him over to the
county--to Sheriff MsCaslin, that is--but he thought he'd wait and see
if you wanted to prefer charges."
"Do you have
any feelings in the manner?"
"None
whatever," she said steadily. "He's out of my life."
"I'm not
going to."
She raised
her eyebrows.
"But I want
to talk to him."
"About us?"
"About why
he came at me wearing an overcoat, a hat, sunglasses . . . and Playtex
rubber gloves."
"What?"
"Well," he
said, looking at her, "the sun was out. It was shining on him. And I
don't think he liked it."
They looked
at each other wordlessly. There seemed to be nothing else on the subject
to say.
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