It was a testament to Knox’s iron-hard nerves that he didn’t even blink in the face of this spot-on observation.

“Unless you have anything to add, I’ll drop you back off.”

“So am I in trouble?”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

Back in Georgetown she climbed out of the Rover. Before she closed the door he said, “With something like this, Ms. Hunter, everybody needs to watch his back.”

He drove off.

Annabelle pulled her coat tighter around her and watched, stone-faced, as Reuben’s truck edged past her and took up the tail on Joe Knox.

The fox had now become the hunted.

A minute later an ancient Chevy with a stuttering tailpipe stopped at the curb, Caleb at the wheel. Annabelle climbed in and they drove off in the opposite direction.

Annabelle glanced at Caleb and he looked at her.

“We’re being followed too, you know,” Annabelle said.

“Story of my life,” Caleb replied without a trace of a whine.

Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

STONE HUSTLED DOWN a clay-packed path, really no more than two truck tire tracks wide, as he followed the cries. From out of the darkness loomed a long shape. The double-wide trailer was no longer “mobile” since it had a cinderblock undercarriage. The hulks of old cars and trucks, like the skeletons from faded battlefields, flew past as Stone hurried to the trailer. It had long strips of vinyl siding dangling off and the front steps were blackened railroad ties nailed together. Stone went from the bottom to the top step in one leap as the screams picked up.

The door was locked. He pounded on it.

“Hello, what’s going on? Do you need help?” He suddenly wondered if the frantic calls were coming from a TV set turned up far too loud.

A moment later the door was thrown open and an old man stood there, his body trembling as though he was in the throes of a Parkinson’s meltdown.

“What’s going on?” Stone exclaimed.

The next moment Stone was knocked aside as a young man burst past his trailer mate and sprang into the air, landing hard on the ground. Stone recovered his balance and stared after him.

Aside from the fellow’s obvious agitation, he was remarkable for having no clothes on. He stopped next to one old wreck in the yard, moaned and fell to the ground, writhing in the dirt like he was being Tasered.

The old man grabbed Stone’s arm.

“Help him, please!”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s got the DTs. Coming off the pills or something. Went crazy. Ripped off his clothes. Tearing up the place.”

Stone raced to the fallen man’s side. His breathing was shallow, his eyes unfocused. His skin was cold and clammy.

Stone yelled over his shoulder, “Call the ambulance.”

“Ain’t none up here.”

“Where’s the hospital?”

“Hour drive.”