Edmund heard a rustling in a lone bush on the roadside. It was a bush that had fought its way through a stone slab wall, and provided a hole into the farmer’s field next door. Edmund looked to see a brown rabbit watching him from the cover of the bush. Its nose was bobbing up and down, sniffing out what was happening, while it watched Edmund with black shiny marbles for eyes. A witness—although Edmund didn’t think they had to worry about this one.

But under the rabbit’s gaze, the lone surveyor, the utter shame began to sink in. It burst inside him and filled him from head to toe. What had he done? Really? What had he done?

“Sorry,” he said pathetically to the rabbit. He didn’t even know why. And when he started moving to the car again, the bush made a great shush and the rabbit was away, back into the farmer’s field, and back into a brighter future. It wanted no part in this scene, and who could blame it. This darkness was his, and it was theirs, and they would live with it forever. Edmund got to the car, and the others looked around. Even Tim’s optimism had gone from his face. Pru and Rachel looked like they were on the verge of tears, and Robert looked like he was on the verge of mania.

“What?” Edmund said, a new coldness working into his brain. The wind whipping around them seemed to pick up. They parted so that he could see inside the trunk of the car.

The woman lay there in her raincoat, her limbs barely more organized than before. Blood was matting her hair, but the movement had shifted the hair from her face, so he could see her now. It was suddenly a different situation.

They all looked down at her in the cramped trunk. A real woman, battered and bleeding from cuts on her face. Her limbs were limp and at odd angles. This was real. This was happening.

“Okay, then,” Tim said. “Looks like we’re going to The Hamlet.”

He shut the trunk.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Three years earlier...

They parked behind The Hamlet, as close as they possibly could. Marsden was sleeping, totally silent and dark, with no one around to witness them. Thankfully. If this had happened during the day, they would already be in prison cells. Tim had said that Edmund shouldn’t drive because of the shock, but after a quick look around, it seemed Edmund was still the best choice. Everyone else was still over the limit—somehow, Edmund thought he’d never been more sober, and he was going to drive at least ten miles under the speed limit anyway. So, he drove.

In contrast to what had just happened, the drive was uneventful.

That sound. When she hit the road.