Most folks have a little more time to unwind, unpack the wedding gifts, set up shop in their house and get into a new routine. Quinn had maybe two months before Tashi Coleman had showed up, making shit tough for Maggie, bringing up some hard memories for her, making her walk back into the woods with them, trying to figure out what happened back in the fall of ’97. More than anything, Quinn just wanted those women gone and his wife back. They’d been trying like hell to keep little Brandon away from all this mess, but two nights ago, after Tashi had showed up at the farm, he’d wandered in, listened to talk about the body, the placement of the gun, all the craziness that followed. Little Brandon wanted to know why they were whispering about him and why did he shoot that gun?

Quinn could see a waitress walking up to Maggie, the women talking to each other for a bit and then the waitress walking away. His cell phone started to ring.

Quinn picked up.

“They’re gone,” Maggie said. “But they left me a key to the lockers. Let’s see what this bullshit is about.”

Quinn spotted Maggie over by the candy aisle and the novelty T-shirts. BLACK SMOKE DON’T MEAN IT’S BROKE. I LOVE THE SMELL OF DIESEL IN THE MORNING. JESUS CHRIST, THE #1 SAVIOR. Maggie tilted her head toward the trucker entrance facing the diesel pumps. They passed through the snack cakes, the hot dogs turning on heated rollers, black coffee stagnant and burnt in clear pots, action movie DVDs and audio tapes of Westerns and erotic thrillers. They wandered into a break room with a half-dozen truckers lounging about in easy chairs, half awake, watching flickering images on a corner TV set. Judge Judy, with her glasses down her nose, taking two women to task for trying to get out of paying for a parrot.

Maggie headed back toward the bathrooms and showers to a row of metal lockers, nodding toward one and turning the key. She pulled out a single photograph, a four-by-six picture of her and Brandon Taylor. The two sat together on a couch, but a decent distance apart, Brandon laughing, Maggie cutting her eyes over at him, a dubious look on her face. She had much longer hair then, nearly down to her waist, but the same turned-up nose and spread of freckles, eyes so green they almost didn’t seem real.

“I don’t remember taking this,” Maggie said.

“Anything else in there?”

Maggie reached into the locker and pulled out a small silver chain, a silver heart pendant rocking between her fingers. She held it up to the light, tilting her head to study the inscription. Her face reddened as she dropped it back inside like it were hot.

“How close?” Quinn said.