He and Helen had decided last night before bed that they would get Jessie to a doctor as soon as possible. They did not otherwise discuss what had happened to her, refusing to face the doubts and fears that raced through their heads, refusing to give them validity by voicing them out loud. There was nothing more they could do, except wait and see what the doctor said. But that did not stop him from going over what had happened, again and again.

He realized that in his fear and concern he had forgotten to ask her why she had deliberately gone against his wishes and approached the woods. It was a temptation, he was sure, that was hard to ignore, especially after he had ordered her to stay away. But she had seemed so frightened of the woods before in the car that he had been quite positive she wouldn’t want any part of them.

He opened the refrigerator and the light made him squint. There was some orange juice and a gallon of milk on the top shelf, along with a half-dozen beers, some cold cuts, a hunk of cheese, a few other items Helen had picked up in town. He paused for a long moment, then grabbed a beer. What the hell, he thought, swinging the door shut and popping the can’s top.

The beer was cold and tasted surprisingly good, even at six A.M. He sat down in one of the kitchen chairs by the table and put his feet up, ready to watch the sunrise, propping the beer can on the arm of the chair. He could just make out the trees on the edge of the lawn outside the window. The night seemed especially still and clear; he imagined it was particularly cold. Someone moved upstairs, turned over in bed and mumbled something. He was beginning to realize just how much the openness of the house invited eavesdropping. The sound moved through the rooms and down the stairs, into the living room and back up over the second-floor railings.

The events of the past day came back to him again, tumbling lazily through his brain like a dark cloud. The phone call. What the hell was he going to do about that? Flint was serious, but that didn’t change the fact that David didn’t really know a damn thing. He was new on the scene, and newcomers wouldn’t get much trust. Hell, they would probably figure he didn’t deserve it yet. He could understand that. And he would prove them right.

Because, when it comes right down to it, you’re scared shitless. Scared to go out on a limb and defend your job and the company you work for, because you think they might have really done something. You might be wrong.

Then again, he might be right.