Stiles stood up and laid the Uzi muzzle against Bean’s lapel. It was not a threatening gesture, though it did make the deputy swallow very hard. Stiles was just motioning to him, for his mind was on other matters. “Quick,” he said, “where’s your car?”

“Just down the road,” Bean stammered, pushing the barrel gently away.

“Well c’mon then,” Stiles nudged him in that direction, “we’ve got to get back to town.”

“Now hold on just a damn minute here. I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers—”

“Look!” Stiles barked, and his intensity backed the burly officer up a step or two. “They’re probably heading back toward town now, cross-country. That means they’ll beat us there, and they’ll probably . . . oh, God, Del and Bart! They could be after the boys!” He hurried down the road, all but dragging the deputy behind him.

The squad car squealed into reverse and did a one-eighty in the middle of the road and raced back toward Isherwood. It was 8:50 p.m. The night had just begun.

10

Chapter Ten

Del was still in front of the television, as he had been for several hours, quiet, watching but not seeing. Once every fifteen or twenty minutes, when his mother wasn’t looking, he would run to the window and peer outside, looking first to the driveway for a white van and then into the darkness for something else, something altogether different. He came back, scooted over near the couch where his brother lay with an X-Men comic book draped over his face, half-snoring. Del didn’t say anything, just sat there, but his presence was enough to rouse Bart. “Cap,” he sighed through the comic book, “would you settle down? There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” the boy snapped, lowering his voice so it wouldn’t carry into the kitchen to their mother. “This is two nights in a row. There’s trouble, admit it.”

“You’re your own worst enemy, Delbert. If there was anything wrong, Chris would’ve told us. So just settle down. He probably had something to do or someone to see. Maybe he hooked up with another woman—I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Nope,” Del was adamant. “He was going to look for Danner, he promised me, and now there’s something wrong. I know it.”

“Stop borrowing trouble. Everything’s gonna be fine. You just need to think about something else for a while, get your mind off it. Isn’t there anything on television you could watch?” The younger boy shrugged. “Well, how about a game or something? Anything to shut you up.”

Del brightened. “How about Dungeons and Dragons?”

The older boy frowned. “Hasn’t your imagination been satisfied for the next couple of centuries? Pick something a little tamer.”

The boy thought. “Stratego? Trouble? Life, chess, backgammon, crazy eights, euchre, Battleship, Monopoly . . .”