BooksBarbecue
Back Rovers
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. Acknowledgments
  40. Discover More
  41. About the Author
  42. Also by Richard Lange

We left the kid in the camper when we got back here to the cabin. The old man will return him to the shed after dark. I’ve spent the day in the van, trying to sort things out. Right now I’m lying in the warm glow of a golden afternoon, but I’m chilled to the bone by what I’ve seen and what I’ve done. I’ve been searching for the truth about what happened to Benny, and I believe I’ve found it. I have no proof it was a rover that killed him, no hard evidence like Czarnecki’s ring, but I’m almost sure that’s how he met his end. There’s no happiness in this certainty, but there is the satisfaction of having solved the mystery, which is at least something after so much disappointment and frustration.

But a storm still roils within me. Because now I have to make a choice. Do I join Czarnecki in his war against the rovers, even though the chances of encountering the one that murdered Benny are slim? Or do I return to you and step back into my old life, knowing that the monsters that murdered our boy and God knows how many others are out there continuing to kill?

Truthfully, I feel whichever road I choose is going to lead to my destruction, and all I can do this evening is pray that you, at least, are at peace.

TODAY’S PASSAGE: Stand in awe and sin not. Commune with your own heart upon your bed and be still.

—Psalm 4:4

12

12

A​NTONIA AND ELIJAH MEET GEORGE MOORE’S MAN AT A diner. “I’ll be the ugliest sonofabitch in the joint,” he said when Antonia asked how they’d know him, and he wasn’t lying. He looks like a possum with acne scars and a greasy pompadour, has the beadiest black eyes Antonia’s ever seen.

The waitress is refilling his coffee when the two Fiends walk up to his table. He motions for them to sit and proceeds to stir half the sugar in the dispenser into his cup.

“Nice bikes,” he says, nodding at the Harleys parked out front.

“Do you ride?” Elijah asks.

“Not me,” the possum says. “If I fell off and cracked my skull, they’d be washing my brains off the road with a fire hose. You, you’re good as new in five minutes.” His grin reveals a mouthful of crooked brown teeth. “Do you have the pictures?”

Antonia reaches into the pocket of her denim vest and brings out the Polaroids Bob 1 took of McMullin, tosses them on the table. The possum squints at the one of the tattoo.

“Mors tua, vita mea,” he says.

“Your death, my life,” Antonia says.

The possum’s lips purse like he’s tasting something sour.

“That about sums you rovers up, doesn’t it?” he says.

“And you’re somehow better?” Antonia says.