Later, before putting out the lights for the night, Norman, the deputy sheriff, threads his way around the mattresses in the holding pens and distributes plastic cups and thermoses of scalding herb tea brought over by the wives of several of the professors.
“Hey, thanks, Norman.”
“Yeah, man, thanks a lot.”
“Why, how thoughtful of you, Norman.”
“Uh-huh.”
Sitting cross-legged on a mattress in the third holding pen, Rain fills two plastic cups and passes one to Lemuel, who is on the mattress next to hers, his back against the mesh of the cage, a blanket pulled up to his neck.
“D.J. told me what all those letters you wrote on my blackboard meant,” Rain remarks. “I scored points for asking the question.” She takes a sip of herb tea, finds it too ho
