"Both of them. The girl lies better than the man. So much so that she almost had me. But she tries too hard. The man's lies, on the other hand, were utterly transparent."

"How do you always know this stuff?"

"The eyes. Ingersoll taught me that. They lie, so they blink. Or they look up and to the right, accessing the creative portions of the brain. Pupils shrink. An eyelid trembles. It's a panic response. I can sense it. Most prey animals respond by a twitch of the head, a sudden shift of the eyes. Lying is a fear response. Those two were scared."

As the car idles, they hear the popping of gravel.

In moments, a white Mustang comes racing past. Tail-lights twinkle.

"And the horse is out of the gate," Harriet says.

She eases the car back onto the road, silent and deadly as a shark.

INTERLUDE

The Interview

"Ben Hodge."

Miriam says the name, lets it hang out there like so much dirty laundry on the line.

"Let's just get this out of the way: Ben was weak. Weak like I was weak. Here was this kid in school. Not ugly, but not a quarterback, either. Mop of dirty blond hair. Freckle-cheeked. Dull eyes, but sweet. We had a lot in common. We were both loners, more by necessity than by any actual desire to be that way. We both were homely nobodies. Both had dead dads and oppressive moms – you know about my mother, but his? Ugh. A haggard, horrible woman. A cavewoman. She was – no shit, get this – a logger. You know, climb up the trees, hug the stump with your thunder-thighs, chainsaw spraying sawdust."

She pauses, because she is remembering.

"Go on," Paul says.

"We weren't friendly, he and I. Never said two words to each other. But sometimes I'd catch him staring at me, or he'd catch me staring at him. We'd pass each other in the halls, stolen glances, all that clichéd crap. So one night, it happened. My mother was not a drinker by and large. Condemned it like it was the milk of Satan. And yet, I knew that once in the bluest moon she'd take a nip from this nuclear green crème de menthe bottle she kept under her bed. I stole it, and I went right to Ben's house, and I did the stupid teen thing where you throw shit at the other person's window to get them to come out – I threw twigs because with my luck I'd throw a pebble and break the window. His house was one of those country farmhouses with the old, warped glass. Fragile.

"He came out. I showed him the bottle. We went into the woods. We sat among the crickets there in the darkness, and we had a great time telling stories and making fun of people at school, and then – we did it. The rumpy-pumpy, the beast with two backs. Up against the tree, like a pair of clumsy, rutting animals."