“I’m sorry?” said Kenneth.

“How has anyone been able to book for Wednesday, since you don’t take reservations over the phone and you don’t have a website?”

“A long-standing arrangement,” said Kenneth. “You must be gone by ten o’clock on Wednesday morning.”

“I guess we could stay at a bed and breakfast,” said Milo.

“You misunderstand,” Kenneth said. “You must leave our town. On Wednesday we have our festival.”

“I like festivals,” said Amber.

“It is a private festival,” Kenneth said. “For invited townsfolk only. You must leave by ten in the morning.”

At no stage did Amber think Kenneth was joking, and yet she waited for the punchline all the same. When it didn’t come, Milo spoke up.

“Sure,” he said. “That’s fine.”

Kenneth hesitated. “Maybe you shouldn’t stay,” he said.

“Of course we should,” Amber assured him. “We’ll be gone by the time the festival starts – it’s all good. We totally understand. Today, tomorrow, Monday and Tuesday and then we move on. You got it. How long does the festival last?”

“One night.”

“Then how about we come back on Thursday?”

“Thursday and Friday are for clean-up.”

“Then Saturday,” Amber said, smiling. “If we leave and come back for the weekend, would that be okay?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. We’ll do that. So put us down for four nights now, and then Saturday. If we like it here, we might even stay longer.”

Kenneth nodded. “Very well. Welcome to the Dowall Motel. This is a family business.”

Amber gave another smile. “Well, okay then.”

Kenneth showed Amber to her room, and Milo dropped off her bag and followed Kenneth to his. Amber shut her door. The room was old-fashioned but clean, and smelled of fresh air and green trees. It had a fireplace that wasn’t to be lit and a good-sized bed. It had a bathroom with a bathtub and a window that looked out over the town. It was a good room. A fine room.

Amber stood at the window. From here, she could almost see the road they had come in on, the one with the sign. That would be the road the Hounds would use. They were anywhere between ten and fifteen hours away, but it took Amber a long time to stop watching for their arrival.

Chapter 6

VIRGIL FOUND THE NUMBER scrawled in an address book that had slipped down the back of a file cabinet. He tried to ignore the other names – seeing them brought pangs of recognition and regret – but despite himself he glanced through them. Here was Erik Estrada’s number. Good kid, that Erik. Burt Reynolds. Lynda Carter. Ah, Lynda Carter. Robert Culp. Farrah Fawcett’s number was here. He’d never managed to get with Farrah because of his (strained) friendship with Lee Majors – but he’d wanted to. Oh my, how he’d wanted to.