If all went well, Coral would be up the hill, on the grounds of Funtime itself. From her perch she’d be able to see us arrive. She would not come down, Marshall had assured me over and over. It would be bad tactics to give up the high ground before making sure Trey and I really had come alone, with no police. But did old ladies think like cops, in terms of tactics?

The sparse woods grew thicker as the hills grew steeper. There was still a faded sign standing at the turnoff. It featured a tall, cowboy-shaped human figure wielding a lasso. His face and body were covered in graffiti almost as old and faded as the sign itself. I could see that the coils of his rope spelled out funtime, but only because I already knew the place’s name.

A mile past the sign, another directed us left into the parking lot. It was empty except for an ancient Honda, the white paint coated in filth and the back bumper crumpled in and rusted. Trey crept toward it, avoiding the largest potholes. He looked pale as he parked beside it, just left of the wide concrete double staircase.

“You ready?” I asked the heap of blankets. I heard a muffled yes. I got my phone out and put it on vibrate, then opened up my stopwatch app and set it for seven minutes. The blankets tented and shifted as Marshall did the same. When the timer went off, I would have thirty seconds to make sure Coral was not watching the lot so Marshall could slip out of the car unseen and get into the cover of the woods. If Coral Lee spotted him, she’d hurry back to the hidey-hole and get to Robert first. If she was armed, I might not be able to stop her.

Trey said, “I still don’t like you going up there alone.”

“She probably expects me to come up first.” I sounded sure, because I was. I could feel her above us, watching. Wanting to talk to me again. The strange thing was, I wanted it, too. I was almost hungry for it, this chance to clearly see the face that went with the voice I knew so well. I wanted her to look right at me, too, and really see me. I wanted the chance to change her mind. “Just stay here.”

“Bree,” my husband said, but this was the plan.

“One, two, three,” I said to the heap of blankets, then hit the timer on my phone.

“Got it,” Marshall said.

The numbers began counting down. I slid the phone into my back pocket to muffle the vibration.

“Bree,” Trey said again.

Our eyes met. The world could change in so many different awful ways in the next hour.