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his face looked lively and eager。 Why not？ I remember thinking。 Why shouldn't he look eager？ He's a fool。
Brutal and Harry were standing shoulder to shoulder at the foot of the truck； like kids in a thunderstorm； and I saw that both of them looked as scared； confused； and uneasy as I felt。 That made me feel even worse。
John got down。 For him it was more of a step than a jump。 I followed； stiff…legged and miserable。 I would have sprawled on the cold gravel if he hadn't caught me by the arm。
〃This is a mistake；〃 Brutal said in a hissy little voice。 His eyes were very wide and very frightened。 〃Christ Almighty； Paul； what were we thinking？〃
〃Too late now；〃 I said。 I pushed one of Coffey's hips； and he went obediently enough to stand beside Harry。 Then I grabbed Brutal's elbow like this was a date we were on and got the two of us walking toward the stoop where that light was now burning。 〃Let me do the talking。 Understand？〃
〃Yeah；〃 Brutal said。 〃Right now that's just about the only thing I do understand。〃
I looked back over my shoulder。 〃Harry； stay by the truck with him until I call for you。 I don't want Moores to see him until I'm ready。〃 Except I was never going to be ready。 I knew that now。
Brutal and I had just reached the foot of the steps when the front door was hauled open hard enough to flap the brass knocker against its plate。 There stood Hal Moores in blue pajama pants and a strapstyle tee…shirt； his iron…gray hair standing up in tufts and twists。 He was a man who had made a thousand enemies over the course of his career； and he knew it。 Clasped in his right hand； the abnormally long barrel not quite pointing at the floor； was the pistol which had always been mounted over the mantel。 It was the sort of gun known as
