As far as why Blake wanted me to go there, I couldn’t guess except it was remote and quiet and unlikely to have anyone around to interrupt.

While I drove across town, the rain continuing to spit against the windshield, my phone rang twice. Keeping one eye on the road, I managed to glance at the ID screen. I really didn’t need to. I knew who was calling.

Amanda. Both times.

She’d want to know where I was. She’d want to know if I was coming to talk to the police.

And I desperately wanted to answer. I desperately wanted to turn around and go to her. The desire burned in my chest so much, it hurt. Like a burning firework.

But I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to lie. I wanted to be done with Blake and have it all finished. He ran loose in the world, carrying my computer, and his knowledge of everything that had happened in the distant past as well as with Jennifer’s death. Wasn’t it time to escape from under the dark cloud all of these problems trailed with them, once and for all?

I drove past the edge of town by a half mile. The strip malls, gas stations, and warehouses faded from view, and then I saw the entrance to Hilldale Estates. The sign remained in place, optimistically and against all odds informing everyone that units were for sale or lease. Inquire inside! But I had recently read on Twitter that the management office had sat empty for six months, the door locked tight with a giant padlock.

I made a left turn, entering the complex, the bat I’d brought with me rolling on the seat and falling to the floor on the passenger side. The combination of rain and churned-up earth from construction meant the roads were muddy and littered with pebbles and sticks. There were no street signs, no guideposts of any kind, so I drove down the main thoroughfare past windows and doors that stared back like sightless eyes. Wherever Blake was, he must have seen me turn in, because my phone chimed with a text. I slowed, looking at the phone.

Take that road to end. Right and then left.

I did what he told me, my blood pressure rising. An absurd thought popped into my head—I wish I had a drink. To calm me. To anesthetize me. To give me courage.

I made the first turn, my tires rumbling over some debris I couldn’t see. I wished to whatever controlled things that I wouldn’t get a flat and be left out in the middle of nowhere with no means of escape. But the car seemed fine. I looked from side to side at the unfinished buildings, monuments to somebody’s busted hopes and dreams. Would they ever be finished? Would anyone ever move in and nest there, making it their own?