Wanting to resist, he fails the moment that she touches him. Instantly trembling, he carefully kisses her everywhere, then lifts her and lays her gently on the vinyl. He kisses her everywhere again, begins to worry again. But she gasps, shuddering and hitting and keening strange words. He seems to be in shock after that, gliding from the chaos of pleasure into a deep wild dream.

He dreams he flies upon a horse that lands upon a sailboat. A great bird flaps over. Then he and Cassie are riding on the bird, which answers to the name of her horse, and the earth spins brightly green and blue below.

Later, he only dimly senses the absence of her smell and weight. He believes she is still there and tries to hold Cassie from inside the dream.

But he stands and finds she has vanished.

He wanders in a vacant fuzz, hearing many sirens now. Beyond the broken window, the frightened horse tosses its head, rattling the dumpster where she tied it. Her dress and slip are where he dropped them.

But the shotgun is gone. So are his shorts, his shirt, and his backpack. She has dumped out his rock, spike, fork, and reflector, his blanket, phone, and chalk upon the floor.

A stuck-tongue, do-nothing chickenshit like you, the voice awakens to tell him, funny you could ever think she loved you.

But he stares at what she’s drawn.

And kneels to draw the truth around it.

CHAPTER 44

Bucking out Jon Golly’s driveway in Luck’s Tahoe, the sheriff set her phone to dial dispatch, tossed it on the seat, and concentrated on a prayer she was trying to remember.

Oh, Lord, protect…

But she was too frantic to put abstract language together. She blasted through the swing gate, felt it clip the Tahoe’s rear end. She was throwing gravel behind on Liberty Hill Road when Denise’s voice rose through the commotion.

“There you are, Heidi! We’ve been trying to—”

“Get EMS help for Bender on the Golly property. He’s in there with a shooting victim, critical when I left. Tell them to drive through the stream where Bender’s car is and follow that old road. Put everybody else in a contain pattern on the roads looking for Derp Hubbard’s white truck. It’s Jim Golly. He’s the telephone ranter, From Hell Hollow. He has Taylor.”

“Heidi—”

“Assume Golly is outbound with a big head start. He’s had way too much time since I saw him from the plane.”

“Heidi, no, he’s inbound. The truck was just sighted southbound on Sime Road. He’s heading into town.”

Her mind froze. Where was she even going? She was only going.

“Talk to me, Denise.”