Afraid

that serial killer Marshal Otis Taylor. He actually was Taylor. Somehow he escaped the death penalty, and now he was here in Safe Haven, wiping out the entire town one by one.

“That’s ridiculous,” Jessie Lee said out loud.

She wadded up the dirty tissue and tossed it into the nearest trash can.

“Merv Johnson,” the commissioner said into the PA system. Merv stood up and waddled over to Jessie Lee. He winked as he passed her.

Jessie Lee came after Merv on the lottery commissioner’s list. She frowned. As ridiculous as her theory was, the thought of going by herself into that locker room suddenly seemed like a really bad idea. She hurried after Merv, reaching out and grabbing his arm.

“Merv—”

“Can’t talk now, Jessie Lee. I’m going to grab my check, then hop on the Internet and search for Vettes.”

“What if,” she felt stupid saying it, but she couldn’t get it out of her head, “what if there is no lottery?”

Merv stopped walking. His fat face scrunched up, making him look like a bulldog.

“What do you mean?”

“Did anyone show any credentials? And it’s past one a.m., isn’t that a strange time to be passing out checks? And why is the lottery commissioner guy wearing a black army outfit? And where’s the media? Winning Powerball is a big story.”

“Well, why are we all here, then?”

Jessie Lee chewed her lower lip. This all felt foolish, which meant that it probably was foolish. Still …

“I want to go in with you,” she told her boss.

Merv shook his head. “The mayor said one at a time.”

“Take a good look at the mayor, Merv. He looks positively freaked out.”

They both glanced at Mayor Durlock, who wore an expression that could easily be interpreted as fear.

Merv shrugged. “I’ll ask the commissioner. But if he says no, don’t push it. I don’t want to get on his bad side.”

Or he’ll eat your toes, Jessie Lee thought. But she agreed, and they approached the boys’ locker room together. The lottery commissioner met them at the entrance.

“Only one at a time.” He stared at Jessie Lee when he said it.

She wound her arm around Merv’s. “We want to go in together.”

The commissioner smiled without warmth.

“Your turn will come.”

“You know who you look like?” Jessie Lee blurted it out before her internal censor could stop her. “That serial killer. Marshal Otis Taylor.”

Merv’s expression became pained. “Jessie Lee!”

The commissioner narrowed his eyes and Jessie Lee suddenly felt cold. She realized that her far-fetched fantasy was right. This was Taylor, and if she went in that locker room she was going to die.

“I … uh … changed my mind.” Jessie took a step backward. “I don’t want the money.”

Taylor grabbed Jessie Lee’s arm, his fingers digging in.

“We’ll make an exception this time. You can go in together.”

“I don’t want to.” Jessie Lee tried to pull away, but he gripped her too tightly.

“Nonsense,” Taylor said. “Let’s go.”

“No!”

Her shout brought silence to the gymnasium. It stretched on for a few seconds, until someone in the bleachers yelled, “I’ll take her share!” which prompted everyone to laugh.

Jessie Lee continued to tug against Taylor’s grasp, and Merv put his hand on the man’s shoulder and said, “Maybe you should let go.”

Taylor glared at Merv, then at the crowd, and finally at Jessie Lee. His eyes were black, expressionless. Like a shark. He opened his hand and she stumbled backward, landing on her ass.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

Merv didn’t appear scared in the least, but he did ask Jessie Lee, “Are you okay?”

“Don’t go in there, Merv.”

“You’re acting silly. And you’re causing a scene.” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Are you on something?”

Jessie Lee felt her face get hot. She was trying to save Merv’s life, and he was treating her as if she was stoned, or crazy.

“Merv, you’ll die if you go in there.”

Merv shook his head, like she was a disappointment, and then Taylor escorted him into the locker room. Jessie Lee stood up, noticing that everyone in the room had their eyes glued to her. Several were snickering. Morons. Didn’t they see how crazy all of this was? Were they so blinded by greed? They were all going to die, and they just sat around waiting for it, like sheep.

Maybe if she had proof of what was really happening, she could convince the crowd what was going on. At the very least, she could convince herself she wasn’t crazy. Jessie Lee held her chin up and marched into the girls’ locker room, located next to the boys’.

Back when she attended school here the peephole rumors were legendary. Supposedly there was a loose brick in the boys’ shower, and when it was removed you could see into the girls’. Jessie Lee, and every other girl in school, used that excuse as the reason they never took showers, rather than admit to body-image issues and the general all-around embarrassment of public nudity.

Jessie Lee remembered looking for the loose brick on more than one occasion. Not because she feared boys peeping at her, but because she wanted to peep at them. At thirteen, she’d never seen a boy’s dick—back then she called them wieners—so she and her best friend Mandy Sprinkle went into the girls’ locker room during a basketball game and climbed up onto the lockers and into the ceiling panels. They crawled over to the boys’ locker room, through pink insulation and mouse droppings, and waited above the showers for the game to end. Then they took turns peering through a small crack, giggling so badly that they thought for sure they’d be caught and expelled.

They didn’t get caught. And they saw a variety of wieners. But ultimately the whole episode left Jessie Lee unimpressed. She remained that way for two more years until she made out with her first boyfriend and saw his dick, which looked much more impressive up close and erect.

The memory returned to her as she climbed the last locker and pushed the ceiling tile up and to the side. Her breathing became quick, and her heart rate increased, just as it had the last time she’d done this years before. Only this time she was alone. And this time she wasn’t giggling.

She grabbed on to a board—Jessie Lee couldn’t remember if they were called rafters or joists—and peered through the opening. Though petite, she weighed more than she did in junior high, and the space above the ceiling tiles felt even more cramped. The pink insulation had been replaced with yellow stuff, and she tugged her shirt up over her nose so she wouldn’t breathe in any fiberglass particles.

The ceiling tiles were made of that brittle fire-retardant material and hung below the joists on wires. She reached above the tiles, to the boards, and pulled herself up. The joists were about eighteen inches apart, and she kept her bare knees on one and her hands on another and inchwormed toward the boys’ locker room.

It became very dark, and very hot. Sweat dripped down her forehead and stung her eyes. Dust clung to her, making her skin itch. Heat and dust seemed to clog her nostrils, and after only a few breaths her mouth went dry.

Jessie Lee couldn’t remember how far she had to go and couldn’t see anything ahead of her. She began to count boards. Six should get her out of the girls’ area, and four more would probably take her above the boys’ room, though she didn’t know where.

The boards were easy to climb across but not comfortable at all. No more than an inch or two thick, they put creases into her knees and palms and made it impossible for her to stretch out and rest.

After crossing four boards her shoulder muscles began to cramp up. She paused, trying to relax her neck,