She was already looking at five to ten years for the kidnapping—maybe less if her theory proved correct. The contents of the duffel bag represented double that sentence, depending on how far she took the interrogation. But if she was right, the sacrifice would be worth it.

If she was wrong? She’d most likely spend the rest of her life in prison. But she wasn’t wrong. She couldn’t be. Something insidious had taken root in America nearly fifty years ago and had somehow gone unnoticed. Still, she couldn’t shake the distant but ghastly suspicion that she had wasted the past two decades chasing a delusion.

Helen caught herself staring beyond the headlights, lost in thought and close to falling asleep again. She rolled down her window, the sudden blast of humid air chasing away the drowsiness. A very temporary fix, given that she had been awake for most of the past twenty-four hours. Only a coffee refill would get her through the final few hours of the trip, the twisty rural roads demanding her full attention. A few more substantial thuds from the trunk suggested she would have to stop soon—to administer another dose of sedatives. She couldn’t pull into a gas station with her passenger creating this kind of racket.

The pounding against the back seat intensified. A quick look at the navigation app running on her phone showed a town coming up less than a mile away. If it turned out to be the sleepy little place she suspected, Helen would find a spot on the northern outskirts to pull over and give Mr. Wilson another shot of night-night juice. He’d be out cold by the time she reached the Road Star Travel Center at Interstate 40, where she could refresh her coffee and use the restroom.

A few orange-tinted streetlights appeared between the trees in the distance, followed by a blinking yellow light. The town turned out to be a handful of darkened businesses crowding Route 13, barely outnumbering the churches. Helen slowed when she reached the flashing stoplight, more out of habit than a concern for safety. The area looked so dead, she could probably park in the middle of the intersection for the next hour without having to move.

Moments after she passed through the intersection, an oversize pickup truck pulled onto the road ahead of her and effectively blocked both lanes, forcing Helen to slam on the brakes to avoid a collision. The moment her car skidded to a tire-screeching halt, mere feet from the side of the pickup, she shifted into reverse and floored the accelerator. At once the rear collision alarm sounded and a van loomed large in the backup camera display.