Chapter 5: Curtains

I set the phone down very gently, like it might ring again if I made a noise.

"Pity," Neil repeated. "Pity what?"

"Pity nobody's at the door."

"Why would he want somebody at the door?"

I didn't have an answer.

I looked at the green curtains along the lake side of the lobby, pulled shut over the tall windows.

Rule eight said to keep them closed after midnight.

It didn't say why.

"Neil," I said. "Would you open the curtains?"

He looked at the card, then at me.

"That's one of yours."

"I know. I can't get up."

He stood, found the cord and pulled.

The curtains slid back with a long dry rattle, and the whole lake was there.

The moon was out over it, and new snow lay on the ice so flat and white it hurt to look at.

Out where the man had gone under, about forty yards from shore, there was a light.

It was an old kerosene lantern, set down on the snow.

Beside it a man in a long black coat knelt with his head bowed close to the ice, motionless and grim.

"That's Mr. Coe," Neil said.

I knew the silver hair even from there.

His mouth was moving.

He was talking to the ice.

I watched him for a long time without breathing much.

"Rule one says I'm the only person awake in this hotel," I said finally. "He's awake."