“The flood got a lot of kids,” Carey said. “Women. A few couples, that worked the nightshift, died in their beds. There were only three men on the missing list. Two black. The paper said the skeleton was a white man. It’s him.”

“Are they dead?” Patrick asked.

“Who?” Archie said to Patrick, his gun still trained on Carey’s chin. “Your parents? No. They’re fine.”

Patrick’s voice wavered. “The blue-rings.”

Who knew how many murders the kid had witnessed, but he was worried about the octopuses. “No,” Archie said. “No. We saved them.”

Carey’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a liar, Sam. He’ll put you in jail.”

There was the briefest of commotions behind Archie. “Give that back!” the boy called.

“I’ve got the bucket,” Flannigan hollered to Archie. “It’s okay, Patrick,” Archie heard him say to the boy. “I’m a policeman. I’m here to help you.”

Patrick Lifton apparently didn’t buy it. Archie heard a flat splash—the sound of the chair getting knocked over. Then the frantic, spastic splash of small rain boots.

“What’s going on?” Archie called.

“He’s headed for the back door,” Flannigan cried.

Archie had to go after the kid. He had to leave Susan.

Carey’s forehead twitched. His baby face gleamed with sweat. He smiled. He knew where the kid was going, Archie realized. They’d find each other. Just like before.

“For fuck’s sake,” Susan said. “Go get him.”

Archie took a step back and then turned and ran toward the back of the store, the back door, the boy. He glanced back once, just in time to see Susan elbow Carey hard in the stomach.

Chapter 54

CHAPTER

54

Susan had seen Patrick flee.

She was not going to lose him.

She hit Carey again, her elbow slamming into the soft flesh just under his rib cage. He gasped. She had pointy elbows. People had always told her that. His grip on her hair loosened a bit and she pulled away, squirming out from the deadweight of his meaty arm as he doubled over in pain. She winced at the sting of hair ripping from her scalp as she did.

She scrambled toward the back of the store, pulling empty aquariums from the shelves behind her as she ran. They splashed and some shattered, littering the path behind her with glass.

Carey was lumbering after her, a yarn-sized lock of her raspberry hair still in his fist.

The door at the back of the store was still closing from when Archie had gone through it. Susan threw herself against the door’s metal push bar. It was called a panic bar. Now she knew why.