Perhaps a long drink would help settle his doubt, but his hand grabbed at a bare hip."God damn, son of a jack ass. Ain't got smarts enough ta hang ont... my damn water!" Patrick wiped a dust caked sleeve across his mouth. He turned and stared at the ground he had just covered. "She-it. Could 'a dropped that damn canteen anywheres." For a fact, his stomach tightened, knowing he could have dropped, lost or set his canteen down at any of a hundred places.His wits thinning by the moment, Patrick spun. ’ ‘Believe what you will, Christina,’ Starkey said. ‘It happens to be the truth. I get a phone call one day from the home office, they say ‘use Paul Bayard in quicklime’. So I use him. I make it a point not to argue with the home office.’ ‘All right, Desmond,’ I said. ‘Thanks for nothing.’ ‘Any time, sweetheart,’ he said cheerfully. ‘And don’t be a stranger.’ We hung up. Just as I was about to dial the home office of amalgamated industries (located, appropriately enough, in Cleveland) the. More

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