Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Them bodies ain’t there no more, right? They’re all gone?” Eddy asked.
Danny nodded, keeping an eye on the road for the turnoff to Eddy’s place. It was still early, with a mix of sun and shadows spread across the road. The sky was blue, though, the blue of no clouds and no rain. Of emptiness. “They’re all gone, Eddy.”
“You believe in ghosts?” Eddy said, chewing a fingernail.
“What are you getting at?”
Eddy shrugged. “You know, like when I’m using, like on a three- or four-day bender, I see all sorts of shit. Crazy shit that ain’t there. But I’m never quite sure, right? I get all spooky, yelling at empty rooms.” Eddy tapped his fingers on the dash. “Now that my head is kinda clear, I hope I don’t see any real ghosts. You know, pissed-off spirits of those dead wetbacks or something. I’ve seen movies about shit like that.”
Danny smiled. “Those are just movies, Eddy. They aren’t real, either.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. That’s what everyone says. That’s what everyone in those movies says, too, right until something horrible grabs their fat asses and drags ’em away . . .”
Danny laughed, but it was a serious laugh. “Do ghosts out here have some reason to be angry with you?”
Eddy slid deep in his seat, not wanting to get Danny all spun up and asking a bunch of questions again. “Naw, it’s nothing like that. I already told you everything I know.”
“Then you should be fine, Eddy. Nothing to worry about.” Danny slowed down and made the turn onto crushed quartz and dirt—an opening cut into some low, twisted trees and ocotillo. “Welcome home . . .”
—
AS DANNY PULLED UP TO THE TRAILER, Eddy could see the yellow police tape, just like in the movies. It was strung around the front door, another long piece fluttering on some of the rebar out in the yard, near that big Admiral fridge. Eddy couldn’t remember how most of that junk in the grass had gotten there, or where it had come from. It was stuff that might have been important once, that maybe he thought he could resell or make something useful out of, but nothing had ever come out of it. It had all gone to shit, rusting away. Like his goddamn life. That police tape had come loose from somewhere else around the trailer and was now waving around like a bright flag. Like NASCAR. It reminded Eddy of those weird balloon men bouncing around in front of car dealerships.
Even when he was sober those things freaked him out.
Danny stopped in the grass, but left the truck idling. He rolled down the window to let some air in, turning to Eddy, who couldn’t take his eyes off that winding police tape.
A yellow flag in NASCAR meant caution.