Sugarland - Chapters 1-5 - Page 26

     “Mr. Collins, American,” she said.

     “That's right.”

     “Mr. Collins is not in, sir.”

     “He left already?”

     “Oh, sir, Mr. Collins is not in during all of last night.”

     “What time is it there?”

     “Here it is seven o'clock in the morning, sir.”

     I left a message for him to call me, gave my home number, shouting it over the hum.

     Then I drove home. The fog was a solid bank pushing across the water, maybe a mile out. It hit as the sun fell. I lit a Presto log in the fireplace and waited for Collins to call, but he never did. More than once I thought of him halfway across the world, in a green hot place.

     Gilsa's call woke me sometime that night.

     “Sorry. I had to do it,” he said. He didn't sound sleepy, but there was something in his voice. “Take a few seconds. Get yourself collected.”

     “I'm collected.”

     “Can you leave for the Philippines in about twelve hours?” he said. “I realize it's short notice. If you have obligations, just tell me. I'll understand.”

     “No. No obligations. But I don't have a passport.”

     “We can handle that.”

     I sat up and let it percolate for a couple of seconds.

     “What about Collins?” I said.

     He said, “Collins is dead.”