“Anybody else coming?” Lou asked, glancing down the road.

“I’ve got two teams on standby,” Stone answered. “Tell me everything. What’s that contraption you’ve got there?”

“It’s portable radar. I think the corn Chester is growing is poisonous.”

“Poisonous?”

“I know it may be hard for you to believe, but I think William Chester is producing vast amounts of corn, genetically modified to grow larger and faster by combining it with the genes of a large African termite called Macrotermes bellicosus—perhaps the most reproductively proficient animal on the planet.”

“And you think this corn is somehow poisoning the citizens of my town.”

“I do.”

Stone made the same high-pitch whistle that Lou remembered from the first night they met. “So what on earth brought you way out here?” Stone asked, gesturing to the woods surrounding them.

“You remember Joey, the cook at Millie’s who nearly got his thumb sliced off?”

“Of course.”

“Well, a couple of years ago, Joey found these huge mutated termites in the woods and made them his pets.”

“Mutated?”

“Termites,” Lou repeated.

“How are they mutated?”

“Well, first of all, they’re bigger than other termites of the species, and secondly, they eat flesh in addition to their usual diet.”

“Holy gravy,” Stone said, making that whistle again. “So what do these bugs have to do with corn?”

“Well, initially I thought it was airborne contagion—inhaling pollen from Chester’s modified corn—that caused the odd behaviors taking place around town. I went to see a bug expert in Philadelphia to see if that was even possible. Turns out that the termites Joey found are an African species, clearly imported here by someone. This piece of equipment—” Lou tapped the cart’s handlebars. “—can be used to track their underground ventilation shafts.”

“And you tracked one of these shafts all the way to this building?”

“That’s right,” Lou said proudly. “The bugs must have flown out and started another colony, or else they escaped through a crack in the foundation. The expert and I aren’t sure, but we don’t think it’s an airborne contagion anymore. We think the termites are being intentionally mutated—radiated, most likely—and then their DNA is being combined with the corn to get this huge, rapidly growing, genetically modified, monster vegetable. Frankencorn, I’ve been calling it.”

Stone looked at Lou queerly. “But if it’s not airborne, how’s it making the people sick?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we’ve got to find out. I got some more troublin’ news to share with you. More proof, I guess, that something really wrong is happening here in Kings Ridge.” Stone pulled a kerchief from his pocket and used it to mop his brow. “Roberta Jennings accidentally killed herself yesterday.”

“What?”