“It’s the cop’s language,” he said. He cast his peculiarly efficient recollection back to the moment when the cop had apparently sicced a buzzard on him. “Timoh!” he snapped at Audrey Wyler. “Candy-latch!”
“Tak ah lah!”
The woman spoke in a voice that was both frightening and powerful, nothing like her earlier one, her storytelling voice—that one had been low and often hesitant. To Johnny, this one seemed only a step or two above a dog’s bark. And was she laughing? He thought that at least part of her was. And what of that strange, swimming darkness just below the surface of her skin? Was he really seeing that?
“Min! Min! Min en tow!”
Cynthia cast a bewildered glance at Steve. “What’s she saying?” Steve shook his head. She looked at Johnny.
“It’s the cop’s language,” he said. He cast his peculiarly efficient recollection back to the moment when the cop had apparently sicced a buzzard on him. “Timoh!” he snapped at Audrey Wyler. “Candy-latch!”
