A chill ran up the deputy’s spine as Papaw’s words now rang true. But he couldn’t let it deter him—there was no turning back now. Stiles might need him. He stomped on the gas and wrung black smoke from the wheels as he shot off down the roadway and around the next bend, until the front gate of the property came into view. He picked up speed coming down the straightaway, then turned in and rammed the gate full force. Metal crunched audibly and he was nearly jarred from the seat; the windshield shattered and part of it fell in his lap. But the vehicle’s momentum won out. It tore both gates from their moorings and flung them aside, allowing access to the first vehicle in years. The van lurched to one side and almost hit a tree, then plunged into the darkness, torturing its suspension on the weed-choked drive. “Christ!” he muttered, fighting to control the van’s wild bucking as he peered into the tree-lined blackness before him. “How the hell am I supposed to find him in here?”

There was a jarring clap of ground-level thunder in reply, and the flash of the explosion through the trees to guide him. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed, punching the gas pedal even harder. The van lurched forward, bashing a fender into the trunk of a spruce before turning the right way. The high beams found a thicket directly ahead; Charlie gunned it through to the open fields beyond. There, in the cold gleam of the moon, was Danner House. At least what was left of it. A few sections of wall and chimney were all that stood of the great structure now. It looked as if a great hand from on high had just mashed it flat. Small fires burned here and there, lighting the destruction further, but he could see no sign of Stiles. So he followed the remnants of the drive and skirted what was once the main entrance, circling around to the gardens and rubble-strewn courtyard. That is where the lone figure came into view. It whirled at his approach, leveling two sawed-off shotguns at the hip. They stayed there even after the van halted and Bean leaped out. “Whoa, simmer down there, bud,” he said, not daring to take a step. “It’s just me, okay? Look.” He opened his mouth, pulled back his lips for a quick inspection. Stiles nodded and shouldered the weapons, and Bean breathed a sigh of relief.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” the soldier said.

“I almost didn’t. Right after you went for Danner, the fuckers started pouring out of every nook and cranny. I’ve never seen anything like it. I even knew some of them.” The recollection bothered him. He cleared his throat and stepped away, staring instead at the shattered remains of the house. “Was he in there?”

“Yes.”