Nikki greyed out as they slogged through the woods.  She didn't lose consciousness, but was only incidentally aware of her surroundings.  She stared at the white ball of light cast by Lexi's flashlight until it got blurry around the edges and was the only thing in existence.  There were no trees, no snow; even Lexi was a dim shape.  If she was aware that they had come out of the woods and were walking past a barn, past a large snow-covered garden, the knowledge never really made it past her eyes.

In five minutes they were in Sir William's cozy den, which was richly decorated with the comfortable detritus of forty-odd years; framed photographs, miscellaneous awards, odd pieces of used farm equipment, and an older version of Ramona graced the walls.  There was no television, only a sixty year-old cabinet-style radio.  Glen was there, too, poring through a dusty hardbound book and nursing a cup of coffee.  They both looked content and comfortable; Glen clearly didn't mind the unexpected detour and delay.  Lexi wondered if they'd left the Porsche he was driving in the ditch, or if it had been freed.  She felt a stab of remorse for more or less forgetting about Glen all day, and made a mental note to keep track of loose ends like that.  As soon as she did, she realized how many of them there were, and started trying to ignore them again.

Sir William took one look at Nikki, announced that he had been a field surgeon during his years in the war, and had Lexi guide her onto the couch so he could have a look at her leg.  Although she wasn't sure Sir William was serious about having been a field surgeon (something in his tone suggested that it wasn't the whole truth) Lexi decided to trust him anyway, and held Nikki down during this process.

"Sorry I had to run off on you," she told Glen.  "It's been a strange little day."  She sat on one end of Sir William's happily threadbare couch with Nikki's head in her lap.  Nikki was barely there; her face was waxy.  Lexi guessed that she'd probably been close to the edge of exhaustion even before being shot.  Nikki gasped and kicked mindlessly as Sir William squeezed water over her ravaged calf.

"I'll say," Glen replied.  "How did she get shot?  And who is she?"  He stood near the doorway, out of the way.  Sir William was dispatching Tinpot to fetch the things that needed fetching, so for the moment Glen was somewhat superfluous.  He desperately wanted to call Molly about the papers that Curve had left him; maybe she had some idea.

"Nikki is a friend of mine.  She was shot by an extremely unfriendly houseguest, whom we're going to have to evict.  Once that's done, you and I can have our interview, although there won't be as much playing in the snow as I'd hope, seeing as how the car collection I thought I had…well, I don't."

"That's okay," he said.  "William lent me his truck, and I got my car out of the ditch."

"Delicious!  Well, don't leave town, okay?"

He held up a hand.  "Promise I won't.  Can I ask you a question?"

"I am all about questions."

Glen took a breath.  "Do you know the name David R. Frederick?"

"Um…" she frowned.  "I do know it.  He's someone…well, of course he's someone, that's a silly thing to say.  I think Ian knows him."

Nikki gave a little cry and sat up, reaching for Sir William's hands.  She managed to swat the sponge onto the floor before Lexi was able to move with her and hold her back.  "Almost done," Sir William said patiently.  "We'll tuck you into bed as soon's I'm done."

"No, I have to go back," Nikki wailed.  "I have to go back."

"Why?"

"She'll kill him.  She'll kill Eddie and then she'll find you here and kill you too."

"I wish I knew what was going on," Glen sighed, thinking of the mysterious clues left by Langdon Quimby and Curve.  Molly had said Ajax had seen weapons in storage, and now something bad had almost certainly happened to Ajax.  There was another leap of logic to be taken here, but he wasn't sure in which direction it went.

"So do I," Lexi replied.  "I think there are dead people in my house," Lexi said as nonchalantly as she could.  She didn't feel like she'd succeeded, but Sir William and Glen were suitably creeped out by her lack of affect.

Sir William chuckled.  "Of course there are."

"No, I mean fresh ones, with bullet holes and blood and innards and so forth.  My houseguests seem to be murdering each other."

The old man's mirth wasn't diminished.  "Well, that can be fun, too."

"I'm glad you're all taking it so well," said Glen.  Several concerns wadded themselves up in his head, and he couldn't voice any of them.

"Sir William has led a strange and wonderful life," Lexi said.

"What's your excuse?"

Lexi grinned crookedly.  "Me?  I'm just stupid."

Glen found his way to a chair and sat down. This was more than he had bargained for, but it seemed worth sticking around, so long as there was no shooting in his vicinity.  "Are we in any danger?" he asked.

"Long as you stay here, I doubt it. Me?  I might be."

"No," Nikki rasped.  "You stay here too."
"I can't do that.  It's my house.  I'll take care of my own vermin problems."

"I can see why Curve was interested in you," Glen said.

Lexi took a roll of gauze from Tinpot, and passed it to Sir William, then started as she realized what he'd said. "Curve?  You can see him too?  I knew Curve was real.  Everyone else said he wasn't, you know.  Did he show up randomly in your car, too?"

Nikki's eyes were on Lexi.  Sir William offered her two Tylenol and she shook her head, though her eyes were bright with pain.  "You can't go," she said. "It's too dangerous."

"I only look like a cute widdle kitty because my claws are sheathed," Lexi said.  "And, it's still my house," she added implacably.  "Sir William, can we borrow your truck, please?"

"Without me in it?  I'm afraid that's going to cost at least a thousand dollars."

Glen gaped.  "A thousand dollars!  Does she get to--"

Lexi held up her hand to let him know it was okay.  "That sounds fair.  Will you take it in nickels?"

"Milady, that's absurd," Sir William said, wheeling himself away from the couch.  "I have two trucks; old and older.  Tinpot, keys."  The dog vanished into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a big ring of keys.  Sir William took them, praised the dog, and identified the Dodge and International Harvester keys.  "Path to the garage is already clear," he said.  "Good luck, gallant Alexis," Sir William said.  "I shall light a candle for your safe return."

"That's so sweet.  But what you really ought to do is shut the doors and pretend you've been here all night and not seen anyone, in case someone follows our footsteps through the snow."

"She won't come here if I'm not here," Nikki said.

Lexi looked at her for a moment.  "Okay, there's something else going on here that I don't understand."

"They'll be okay, if I'm not here," Nikki said again.  She was reasonably sure it was true.  "Let's go."

"Wait till you see the garage," Glen replied.

He was right.  Sir William's garage--a second, low-roofed barn, actually--was a storehouse for machinery.  The two pickup trucks he'd promised were parked closest to the door.  Looming in shadow beyond them, Lexi could see a backhoe, a skid-steer loader, a Sno-Cat, three antique tractors, an industrial-size woodchipper, a small cement mixer, a trench digger, and even a sewer-vacuum truck on a mid-'60s Ford chassis.  "Oh, wow," Lexi said.  "And I was his friend even before I knew he had toys."

"He says they're mainly for loaning out," Glen said.  Lexi pulled the door of the early Fifties-vintage International pickup open and he started helping Nikki in.  "He lets people borrow thngs in exchange for getting stuff done around his own land."

Lexi nodded, and hopped in behind Nikki. 

Glen closed the door behind her and leaned on it.  "I, ah, suppose this is goodbye?"

"I never say that, unless I'm not coming back," she replied.  The International started on the first crank.  As they pulled out of the garage into the snowy night she gave Nikki a nudge.  "Stay with me."

"I'm okay," Nikki said. 

"When we get home, you're having a nap.  I have some other things to do."

Glen took her aside.  She couldn't help but smile at him; he had to be confused beyond all hope of understanding, and he hadn't run screaming or tried to seize control of the situation yet.  "Are there really people shot in your house?" he asked.

"If Nikki says there are, I believe her.  But I won't know for sure till I see.  And then I get to throw up, if there are, and I'm really looking forward to that.  But what can I do?  Not go home?"

He nodded.  "What do you need me to do, then?  Should I call the police?"

"How long have you known Curve?"

"Oh, I don't know," Glen said with a frown.  He wasn't thrown off by her change of subject, and she liked him for that.  "Four or five years, on and off."

"I've only met him once.  Would he call the cops?"

"I doubt it."

"Then I suppose I won't either."

"Just what I need," Glen said wryly.  "More friends like Curve."

"Well, if Ian comes back with a squad of goons bent on committing me, it won't do much good to have corpses about.  We should go.  Can you carry Nikki?"

"I'm okay," Nikki said doggedly, trying to get to her feet.

"You're going to bite through your lip before it stops hurting," Lexi said.  "There are some things you can't walk off, bulldog girl."  Glen stepped in to help her, and she didn't protest.  "I have a knee brace at home," Lexi said.  "That might help a little."