She hugged her boys close, despite their protests. “I don’t know what games you’re playing and I don’t know what influence you’ve got over my children. I’m not sure I want to know. But I do think you should leave.” She wiped her eyes. “Now, please.” She saw the pain in his gaze and turned away. “Charlie? Get him away from us.”

“Mom, listen to him!” Del cried, but Billie wasn’t listening.

The deputy took a hesitant step toward the soldier. “Mr. Stiles? If you’re about ready—”

“Just a minute.” He went over to Billie and the boys and kneeled down in front of them. “Listen to me, just for a second.” He pulled her chin around to face him. “So I’m a nut, or a serial killer, or whatever you want. Hell, I don’t care. Just do me one favor. Leave town. Just pack up a few things and get out, all of you. Take Charlie if he’ll go. Just stay away from Isherwood. Please.” He reached for her hand.

She pulled away.

“This is my home,” she told him. “Our home, our neighbors, our friends. And I’ll not pack up and leave it just because some . . . some stranger tells me the sky is falling . . . or that there are monsters around.” She looked away, and her voice softened. “Just . . . just leave, Chris. Please.”

He stood soberly, resignation masking whatever emotions he felt. “Suit yourself.” He turned and walked toward the door with the deputy in tow but paused just before leaving. “Boys,” he said to Del and Bart. “Try to change her mind. And soon. By the end of the week, Isherwood will be a ghost town.” Then he was gone.

The two men got into Bean’s car and sat for a few minutes, silent, each wondering what the next move should be. “Are you gonna give us any trouble, Mr. Stiles?” Bean finally asked. “ ’Cause I’ve got a feeling you could do a heap of it if you set your mind to it.”

Stiles shook his head. “Nope. I tried to help but fuck it. I’m out of here tonight.” He reached over and started the motor for him. “Take me back to my van,” he said.

They rode the distance to Sykes Road in silence. Neither spoke until the squad car was parked once again on the shoulder near the culvert.

“There’s blood back there in the woods,” Stiles said, his tone dull, resigned. “And there’s always Danner’s basement wall. But I don’t suppose you’d want to go look.” He saw Bean’s pained expression, saw him rub his eyes and check his watch. He nodded. “I didn’t think so. Tell me, Charlie. Just what am I? A crazed vet still fighting the war? A tormented soul begging for attention? A psychopath fighting his own demons? Come on, I want to know.”