“No, there isn’t. You’ve got to get out there and meet someone.”

He was about to tell her off when she grabbed his arm and said, “Look, the guy coming out the bay door of the garage. That’s him.”

He saw a large man, 6′2″ at least, as she’d described earlier, with long tangled hair and a bushy beard. They watched as he made his way along the sidewalk and then turned off Cobb onto Margrave Street. Mrs. Hultz put the car in Reverse and backed out of the parking spot. When she shifted into Drive, the car made a sound like the transmission had fallen out. They were off at a blistering ten miles an hour.

“He’ll be in the next state by the time you catch up to him,” said Owen.

When they made the turn onto Margrave, the tires squealed.

“Do you see him?” she asked, and slowed to prowl along the suburban street.

As she spoke, the car passed by a house with more land than the usual half an acre, set back among pine trees. The path to the front door was visible from the car. The gas station attendant stood on the porch and stared out at them as they crept by. Owen saw him at the last second and tried to cover his face with his hand.

“He’s seen us. Hit the gas,” he said.

She jammed her foot on the gas and the car released a blast and a cloud of black smoke before crawling away.

“Are you worried about him having noticed your car?” asked Owen.

Mrs. Hultz shrugged. “I’ve got the old gat at home.”

“The old gat?”

“My husband’s gun.”

“Oh, Christ,” he said. “Do you know how to use it?”

“How hard could it be?”

“You’re a dangerous woman,” he said, and then asked if she’d drop him off at the cemetery on the way home.

“Socializing?” she asked.

7

MRS. HULTZ DROPPED HIM off at the entrance to the park. He walked past the baseball diamond and along the gravel path leading to the cemetery. Taking a hard look at the scenery, he compared it to how it had looked late at night. When he reached the acreage of burials, he traveled aimlessly up and down the rows with the sun slowly falling. His mind wandered, thinking about Mrs. Hultz with a gun. After a little more than an hour had passed—out of the corner of his eye—as he lurched along an aisle of headstones, he saw the name HELEN ROAN.