ould find someone to be with.

"Arlen will take care of you," he said to Verdi.

Early Friday morning, Oliver retrieved his stash and placed the walnut
box back on the mantel. "So long, Verdi. Don't give Arlen a hard time."
He slid a spare key under the mat and took a last look around. He
hesitated. The box. The box bothered him. What if I don't come back? he
thought. Get hit by a truck, or something.

It seemed stupid, but Oliver was used to following his intuition. He
wrote a note: "Francesca, I made these for you. Oliver." He put the
note, the bronze heart, the lock, and one key inside the box. He put
the other key on his key ring. There was only one Malloy listed in the
telephone book. He wrapped the box with paper cut from two grocery bags
and addressed it to: Francesca Malloy, Cape Elizabeth, Maine. He put
all the stamps he had in a double row across the top. If something
happened to him, the package would get to her.

Feeling better, he skipped down the stairs, threw his carry-on bag into
the Jeep, and headed out of town. He stopped for coffee at the first
rest area on the turnpike. The sun wasn't even up as he got back in the
Jeep. _On the road again,_ he sang, picking up speed and passing a Shop
'N Save truck. "Fuck you, Malloy," he said, leaving the truck behind.
Francesca's husband worked for Hannaford Brothers, who owned the
grocery chain. _On the road again_ . . .

7.

Traffic was moderate. Oliver hummed along, enjoying the oranges, reds,
and yellows of New England in October. He crossed the Hudson on the
Tappan Zee Bridge, bypassing New York, glad to be moving again after
weeks of inaction. His money and what felt like his entire future was
in his pocket.

At five o'clock he cruised slowly through Atlantic City. He found
Bally's, parked, and went to his room. He washed his face, changed into
his outfit, and went back outside. The boardwalk stretched out of sight
along the beach. It was warmer and more humid than in Maine. Lazy waves
collapsed on the sand. Beach-goers and gamblers of all ages strolled
back and forth--studs with oiled glistening muscles, grandmothers with
straw hats and outrageous sunglasses, Afro-Americans, Latinos, Asians.
He was too warm in his suit. He returned to the air conditioned hotel
and entered the casino.

Loud music. Hellish reds and blacks. The women that Jacky had
remembered were seated in front of rows of flashing slot machines. The
women pulled long levers