Sandra might have taken a moment to kiss him, but a wailing siren stopped her. A Garrett Island police car was heading their way, lights flashing along with the siren. It screeched to a halt out front of the Montrose home.

The door flew open and Joe Bridgeman leapt out. He said, “What the . . .”

He quickly took in the scene—the Caddy, the overturned Arrival, the ripped-up yards—before turning his attention to the unconscious man on the ground.

That was when Sandra knew.

As soon as Joe saw Kyle, there was something in his eyes. A nervous recognition. A quiver in his cheek.

A hint, Sandra thought, of fear.

But Joe recovered quickly and ran to Sandra, wrapping his arms around her. “You’re okay, oh God, you’re okay.”

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she said evenly.

When she wrested her way free of him, he saw the gun in her hand. “You want me to take that now?”

She looked him right in the eye. “No, I’ll hang on to it.” She started walking toward the Cadillac, saying, “I need to see how Katie’s friend is.”

Katie was leaning in through the window of the broken door, her hand on the back of Bruce’s neck. “I thought you were going to die,” she said, tears running down her face. “I was going to come back, honestly I was.”

Bruce, his face caked with dried blood, smiled weakly, and said, “Wanted to save you the trouble.”

“Are you hurt bad?” Katie asked.

“Well, I’m hurt,” he said. “Don’t know how bad, yet.”

“We’re going to get you fixed up, we are,” Katie said. She gave his bloody cheek a kiss. “You’re too cranky to die.”

Sandra came up to the window, smiled wryly, and said, “I understand you’ve been giving my daughter driving lessons behind my back.”

Bruce smiled, then winced. “I think she’s ready for her test.”

Sandra also put a hand out, touching Bruce’s shoulder. “Help has to be coming. The cars aren’t a threat anymore. It’s over.”

But then she glanced over at Joe.

“Almost,” she said.

Forty-Nine

Joe was standing at the back end of the Cadillac, straddling some fence boards from three properties down, when Sandra approached him.

“So,” she said.

Joe pointed to the unconscious Kyle. “Who’s that guy?”

Sandra smiled. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Just don’t,” Sandra said, slowly shaking her head.

“I don’t . . . Sandra, is something wrong?” Joe asked, trying his best to look sincerely baffled.

The gun at the end of Sandra’s arm trembled. Her free hand was shaking. She made a fist to stop it.

“I know that you know who that is,” she said.

“Sandra, look, whatever you may be thinking, whatever he may have told you, you have to believe that I would never want—”

“Stop,” Sandra said. “Don’t lie to me. I don’t want to hear any lies.”