He walked away from town down the ungraded road toward the hulking behemoth that had been his home. It had a powerful effect on him even after all this time, and though it was still several miles away, the dark structure was clearly visible in the flat desert, and he found himself slowing down, not walking so fast, not wanting to reach the house before he had time to mentally prepare himself.

He wished he still had The Power.

There was a roaring, rumbling, clattering sound behind him, and Mark turned to see an old red pickup truck bumping along the road, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. The operator of the vehicle seemed to be driving erratically, swerving from left to right in order to avoid known potholes and sections of washboard, and Mark moved to the edge of the road, trying to stay out of the truck’s way.

With a sliding, dirt-churning stop, the pickup braked to a halt next to him. He waved the swirling dust away from his face, coughing, and saw through brown cloud that the driver was rolling down the passenger window.

Mark moved forward, squinting.

The man was wearing a stained tank top. His lined face was red, his hair thin and greased, combed back. Classic Arizona alky.

Was it someone he knew? Hard to tell. The desert aged people, the sun and the hardscrabble lifestyle combining to add years not yet lived to younger features and faces, but he thought there was something familiar about the man.

“Where you going?” the driver asked.

“The McKinney ranch.”

“Kristen’s place? Ain’t no one out there. She passed on a few days ago.”

“I know. I’m her brother.”

The alky squinted. “Mark? Is that you?” He laughed, shook his head. “Didn’t recognize you, boy.”

He knew now who the man was. Dave Bradshaw’s older brother, Roy.

“Hop on in. I’ll give you a lift.”

Mark opened the dented door and climbed into the pickup, pushing his backpack onto the seat between them. He nodded to the driver. “Thanks, Roy. Much obliged.”

“Never expected to see you here again. Heard you hit the road and were never comin’ back.”

“Yeah, well…”

Roy shifted into gear and the truck lurched forward. “It’s a shame about Kristen. A damn shame.”

Mark swallowed, took a deep breath. “Is there going to be a funeral?”

“Already over. Nearly everyone showed up. Kristen was quite a popular gal ‘round these parts. Not like your parents.” He glanced over at Mark. “No offense.”

“None taken.” They drove in silence for a few moments, Mark listening to the clatter and roll of the truck on the rough road. “Who found her, Roy? Who… discovered that she was dead?”

“Guy who delivered bottled water. She didn’t answer the door, he had a hunch and dialed 911. Course, by the time they got out there she was gone.”

“Was it—”