Dess pulled at Rex’s arm and looked at his watch, comparing it with the time on her GPS device. This eclipse had been shorter than the first one, lasting only seven minutes and twelve seconds. But it had followed a similar pattern: three times 144 seconds.

Now that it was over, Dess allowed herself a long sigh. However certain she’d been that the big event was three weeks away, it was a relief to know the end hadn’t come.

Not this time, anyway.

13

11:07 P.M.

BRILLIANT PLAN

Broken Arrow hadn’t changed much, as far as Rex could see.

The town was still Bixby’s little sister, with no buildings over a few stories marking its skyline. Clanking oil derricks and mesquite trees went right up to the city’s edge, and instead of green lawns most people had dirt front yards. The native desert scrub they planted to keep the soil from eroding needed a lot less water than grass—and looked better, Rex thought—but in Bixby not having a real lawn meant that you were poor or lazy, which most people figured was pretty much the same thing.

He drove carefully, checking the street signs, following the exact route that Dess had used for her calculations. She’d complained about that part of the plan because too many things could mess with the math—how fast Rex drove, the air pressure in the tires, even the temperature outside. She spent a lot of time complaining about something called “fumes.”

Rex couldn’t think about all that. It was all he could do to drive this rumbling, smelly, human machine. His reflexes were much faster now, but the plastics and metal in the car put him on edge.

Besides, there were lots of ways this plan could go wrong. The precisely measured gas in the Ford’s tank was only one.

It was strange being in Melissa’s car without her along, but Angie had demanded three things: that they meet no later than 11:00 P.M., that they didn’t go anywhere near Bixby, and that Rex come alone.

He remembered how nervous Angie’s voice had sounded on the phone. But Rex didn’t want her too anxious. He wouldn’t get any information from the woman if things got violent.

He found the corner Angie had named, two narrow back alleys that intersected among dark and looming warehouses, the prey marks of humans scant—the perfect place for Rex to disappear, if that’s what Angie had in mind. Of course, if Rex were still relevant to the family’s plans, they probably wouldn’t have gone to this much trouble.

Still, he was glad it was just him here in the car and not all five of them. The Grayfoots were old hands at making people vanish.

Angie was already there, smoking a cigarette and wearing a leather coat that reached her knees. She gave him an angry glare, checked her watch, then cast a wary glance around. As she walked toward the Ford, Rex realized that he’d never seen her in normal time before. In motion and without the waxy pallor of the secret hour laid across her skin, she didn’t look that much older than a college student.