Zeffie began her map.

“When Tatum walked here for gas,” Wyatt continued, “he left Moore alone in their truck.”

“Uh-hmm.”

“Moore told him that while she waited, a vehicle ‘stalked’ her. You hear anything about that?”

“Just what police told me, and what I saw in the news.”

“What do you think about that?”

“Here you go. I marked where I think those kids ran out of gas. It’s on the way.” She slid Wyatt’s notebook back to him, and shook her head. “I think it could be anything. Coulda been local misfits, local kids having their idea of fun. Coulda been the girl was scared, and it was her imagination. It was foggy that night. The fog can play tricks on the mind. I’ll tell you this: this part of the world has its secrets, its myths, its outcasts, strange disappearances, so anything’s possible.”

Wyatt nodded, glanced at the map, then asked another question.

“You said Cass lost her son. How old was he, and how did he die?”

Zeffie took in a breath, then let it out slowly, as if she were opening an old wound.

“Joey was five, and one day he just wandered from their property into the woods. He liked to chase butterflies. That’s what they figured.”

“Then what happened?”

“Nothing. There was a big search, but the area’s got bogs, swamps, forests, animals. They didn’t find a thing. It was like he’d vanished from the face of the earth. Cass’s husband, Elwood, blamed himself for not watching the boy. It’s why he took his shotgun behind the barn and—well…”

Wyatt took a moment to absorb everything she’d told him before he thanked her.

“You just be careful driving up through Lucifer’s Notch. You won’t see many people at all, but you can be sure someone’s watching you.”

***

After buying a coffee, a couple of apples, and homemade butter tarts, Wyatt left the gas station and resumed following in Sam Moore’s path.

Enjoying the tarts and studying Zeffie’s map as he drove, he took care not to speed along the narrow gravel road that twisted ever deeper into Lucifer’s Notch.

Stones peppered the undercarriage of Wyatt’s Escape. Fir and spruce rose high on either side of the road, as if forming a passage way to another world. Estimating he’d traveled close to five miles from the gas station to the spot where Tatum and Moore had run out of gas, Wyatt pulled to the side—what there was of it—stopped and switched off the motor.

He got out of his SUV.