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We were sitting in the dining-room. Then it was gone, and we heard nothing more whatever of an unusual nature. The man attended to the lawn and so forth, and the woman came once a week, I believe, to clean up the house. The light was taking over, morning forcing back the night. She knew that she would soon see Sanna and Mike flit past the windows and three-quarters of an hour later leave the house and get into the car. She concentrated so hard that everything around her disappeared. It was almost as if she was there, inside the image of reality that she was watching. It was obvious from their familiar movements. Neither of them spoke until they came to the opening of the path into the woods behind the Thielman lodge. He drove out there not long after you did, and got close enough to see Nappy stacking boxes outside the shop. He just turned his car around and went to the nearest phone.
But now he wanted to find this sad-sounding woman. But I got my lawyer to go out and see her. It was Peggy McKay, and the address was one of a row of very small concrete block houses built in the 1920s when Gallup was a booming railroad and coal center. She smiled at him, and said: "Yes. He had obviously thought a lot about this. I was busy with a lot of things then, he said. He glanced up at Leaphorn, looking for some sort of understanding of this failure. And it was already too late, anyway. I guess I thought it could wait. He returned to the capital once more. His clothes were in rags and his shoes worn out.
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