I focus my eyes on the hood of the Nissan, just to have somewhere else to put them. “I don’t know,” I say. “I didn’t plan that. I had no idea it was coming. It was like I wasn’t in control of it at all.”

“Maybe you’re epileptic,” says Patrick, out of nowhere.

Jezz blinks at him. “What?”

“Like that guy from Joy Division. He’d have seizures onstage and stuff. Curtis Ian.”

“Ian Curtis,” corrects Jezz. “You think Anders has seizures?”

“Maybe.” Patrick raises his shoulders. “Just saying.”

“Yeah,” I say softly. “I don’t think that’s it. But maybe.”

“I think it’s something else.” Jezz looks weirdly thoughtful. “Okay. Maybe it’s nothing supernatural or whatever. Maybe it’s just some crazy local weirdo.”

“Like that stalker who was just hanging out in the middle of your road,” says Patrick softly.

The skin on the backs of my arms goes cold.

He saw her, too. So she was really there. That’s something, I guess. Something strange.

I shake my head a little harder than I need to. “She’s weird, but she’s harmless. She actually saved Goblin. He was stuck in some old basement in the woods all weekend. She brought him back.”

The guys are mute for a second. Then Patrick says, “Or maybe she kidnapped him.”

I turn toward him. “What?”

“So she could return him.” Patrick’s voice is measured. “Maybe she loosened the bolts on your wheel and then left me the note. So she could save you herself.”

The fragments of these ideas whirl around in my brain, slashing through everything else. Nothing holds together anymore. Nothing makes sense. “Jesus,” I breathe. “That’s . . . messed up.”

“Yeah. Exactly.” Patrick stares straight into my eyes. “Like her aunt. Like her.”

“Dude,” Jezz jumps in. “You know what I heard?” He leans closer, like there’s anyone nearby to overhear. “There was this series of fires around town back in the eighties, barns and sheds and other places, mostly out in the woods, and everybody knew Mae Malcolm did it. But there, like, wasn’t enough evidence to convict her.”

I frown. “Then how does everybody know she did it?”

“I don’t know.” Jezz raises his hands again. “I’m just saying. Everybody knew.”

We go quiet, staring at the woods all around us.

I step back into the garage to hang the wrench in its spot. I try to walk smoothly and slowly, but my heart is hammering in my ribs.

I can’t avoid this anymore. There are too many pieces, too many signs.

You’re going to risk losing everything? It was a threat. I knew it was. Oh, Anders. You are going to be so, so sorry. . . .

I need to talk to Flynn.

I take a stumbling step toward the Nissan. “I’ve got to get to the studio. But thanks again for coming here, guys. I mean it. Thanks.”

They both nod. Jezz even reaches out and clasps me on the shoulder. “We’ve got your back,” he says. “You know that.”