The Triggerman Dance

Valerie was in the living room, sitting before a small fire that flickered in the cavernous fireplace, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a cup of something on the rough-hewn table in front of her.

If she saw him come in, she didn't show it.

"May I?" he asked.

She looked at him for a long time, then nodded. He walked far around her and sat on a steerhide sofa on the other side of the table.

"Is there anything I can get you?"

She looked at him again, shook her head, then returned her gaze to the fire. "Mom doesn't comprehend. I tell her, but she doesn't get it. Says, 'oh, no—wait 'til Vanny hears.' "

John sat there for a long while, listening to the pop and hiss of burning wood. He watched Valerie in profile, her unblinking eyes vacantly attuned to the embers.

"Agent Dumars explained it to me," she said, without expression. "Who you are. What Dad did. I didn't understand why. I didn't understand why you did what you did to him."

"Did she tell you about the woman?"

"Jillian?"

"Rebecca."

"She didn't mention a Rebecca."

"She worked for the paper when I did. We were in love. She went to get Baum's car in the rain and your father shot her."

Valerie turned her head slowly to John. "It was your girl he killed, then."

"That's right."

"So you killed him."

"No. Joshua did. I thought... we wanted to arrest him. For Rebecca."

"Oh, it all makes sense," she said flatly, turning to the fire again. "All makes sense."

"I don't—" But John didn't finish the sentence. Instead he watched a shadow move way up on the stairway landing of the second floor, just a little motion between the bannister slats reflected on the wall from the fire. Then nothing moved at all. "I don't ... I know you can't forgive me, ever. But I want to say a few things. Will you listen to me, for just a while?"

She shrugged beneath the blanket, but didn't look at him.

"First, I want you to know it wasn't supposed to happen the way it did. If I'd have known how it would end, I wouldn't have done it."

Valerie half-nodded, her chin lifting just a little, but never coming back down. "Not even for Rebecca?"

"No."

"Why. She was your reason."

"I never set out to get anybody killed. I... I worked awfully hard to make sure that wouldn't happen. I worked hard to make sure we had the right man and that they could arrest him. And I never set out to fall in love with you. "Then came the other half of Valerie's nod, a little downturn of her chin. She shivered and pulled the blanket tighter.

"It doesn't change anything," he said. "But I want you t know it."

No response.

"And I have to say this, hopeless as it is—I love you now and I'll do anything on earth for you. I want you whole again I'm yours. I know you won't have me but that doesn't change the way I feel. I want you to know that before I go."

She looked at him again for a long while. He could see the fire reflected in her eyes. "There's no room left for you, John."

"I realize that."

"All I feel is hate."

John looked at her until she turned her face away again back to the dying fire. He got up and threw on two more log. While the wood caught he glanced up to the second story landing where the bannister shadows sharpened on the plaster wall.

"There's something you should know too, about your future here. When I was looking for evidence to arrest your father someone on Liberty Ridge was helping me get it. Some of the help was subtle. Some of it was obvious. I thought Sexton, then didn't."

"No," Valerie said dreamily. "Lane. So he could run Liberty Operations."

"Yeah." John looked up to the landing. He almost said something about who shot the video tape of Rebecca, then he told himself again that he'd never have to tell anyone that. "Fargo, you want to add anything?"

A faint shadow moved within the sharper ones of the railing posts and Lane Fargo looked around the edge of the wall again: which he was sitting.

"Come down, Lane," said Valerie. "It doesn't matter. I'll shut down the Ops anyway. Never liked it."

Lane moved quietly down the stairs, easing into the living room like a ghost.

"Leave us alone," Valerie said. "Will you, please?"

"He's not telling you the truth, Valerie Anne. I can prove it if you give me a chance."

"Later, maybe," she said.

Fargo's face was tightened to a smirk as he looked at John and headed out.

"Anything else, John?"

"One thing."

"You're sorry. You love me. Watch out for Lane. What else?"