A plane. Jesus. Five minutes ago, or maybe a little longer, while he'd been raking leaves and singing along with 'How Great Thou Art'—

'Stacey, was it Chuck Thompson? I saw that new Piper of his flying over. Pretty low.'

'I don't know, Chief, I've told you everything Peter told me.'

Brenda, no dummy, was already moving her car so he could back the forest-green Chief's car down the driveway. She had set the portable radio beside his small pile of raked leaves.

'Okay, Stace. Power out on your side of town, too?'

'Yes, and the landlines. I'm on my cell. It's probably bad, isn't it?'

'I hope not. Can you go in and cover? I bet the place is standing there empty and unlocked.'

'I'll be there in five. Reach me on the base unit.'

'Roger that.'

As Brenda came back up the driveway, the town whistle went off, its rise and fall a sound that never failed to make Duke Perkins feel tight in the gut. Nevertheless, he took time to put an arm around Brenda. She never forgot that he took the time to do that. 'Don't let it worry you, Brennie. It's programmed to do that in a general power outage. It'll stop in three minutes. Or four. I forget which.'

'I know, but I still hate it. That idiot Andy Sanders blew it on nine-eleven, do you remember? As if they were going to suicide-bomb us next.'

Duke nodded. Andy Sanders was an idiot. Unfortunately, he was also First Selectman, the cheery Mortimer Snerd dummy that sat on Big Jim Rennie's lap.

'Honey, I have to go.'

'I know.' But she followed him to the car. 'What is it? Do you know yet?'

'Stacey said a truck and an airplane collided out on 119.'