Rydell couldn’t think of anything to say to that. He was too tired to flick the remote. Some guy’s arm with a furled Confederate flag on it. Just like home. He looked at her. She sure didn’t look anywhere near as tired as he was. That could just be being young, he thought. He sure hoped she wasn’t on any ice or dancer or anything. Maybe she was in some kind of shock, still. Said this Sammy had been killed, two others she was worried about. Evidently she’d known the guy plowed in Svobodov on that bicycle, but she didn’t know yet that he’d been shot. Funny what you miss seeing in a fight. Well, he didn’t see any reason to tell her, not right now.