“Russ and Tina’s Chevy is still here, too,” Ken observed. “Anybody seen them?”
Terry frowned. “Now that you mention it, no. What the hell is going on? First Sam and Rhonda. Now this.”
Ken shook his head. He had a sinking feeling in his gut. The ground started to spin, so he closed his eyes. He had never been wearier.
“Maybe they’re still in the woods,” Tom suggested. “We should look. I keep imagining Cecil lying out there after having a heart attack or something. Last time I saw him, he was going off into the woods to piss.”
“Yeah,” Ken agreed, looking up again. “Terry, go grab some flashlights. We’re not leaving here until we find them. Tom, while he’s doing that, call their houses. See if they’re home, just in case they got a ride with someone else. And call Tina’s cell phone, too.”
“If she’s in the woods, it won’t work.”
“Call it anyway. It’s worth a try.”
“Whatever you say, Ken.”
“Hold on a minute,” Terry said. “Look, Ken. You’ve been up for how many hours?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do. You look like death warmed over, man. We’ve got a big day tomorrow and an even longer night, and you’re gonna have to be on top of your game. An operation this size—there’s going to be a million little things that need your attention tomorrow night. You need some rest, before shit starts catching up with you.”
“Like what?”
“Like that cop, for instance. Did you remember to call him back?”
“I did. Got his voice mail and left him a message.”
“And when did you finally remember?”
Ken paused. “After the walk-through tonight.”
“That’s my point. You’re tired, Ken, and you’re starting to slip. Now, I know you’re worried about Cecil. We all are. And we’re concerned about Russ and Tina, too, although I’m willing to bet they’re okay. It’s this place. These woods, and all the bullshit history that goes with them. It just has us a little spooked. Chances are they’re fine. But just in case, Tom and I will go look for them. You go home and get some sleep. You need it worse than we do.”
“Screw that,” Ken said. “I’m not going anywhere until we know what—”
“Go home and get some fucking sleep,” Terry ordered, raising his voice. Then he softened it again. “If we find anything—if something bad really has happened—I’ll call you right away. I promise. But as worn out as you are, you’ll be helping everybody a lot more if you just get some rest. We need you sharp, man. This is your show. Tom and me can handle this.”
“Damn straight,” Tom agreed. “In truth, I’m betting old Cecil is just lying up against some tree, drunk as a skunk or passed out. He’s always carrying that flask around with him. Drinking that frigging cheap-ass gin. Hell, could be Russ and Tina are out there with him.”
Ken rubbed his chin, lost in thought.
“Go home,” Terry urged him. “Please? You’re exhausted. We’ve got this.”
Ken hesitated. “You promise you’ll call me if something’s wrong?”
“I promise.” Terry nodded. “Have I ever lied to you?”
“Yeah. In the eleventh grade, when you told me you hadn’t slept with Alicia Hartlaub on prom night.”
Terry groaned. “You’re never gonna let me forget that one, are you?”
“Hell, no. She was
“And she was good.”
“Fucker.”
“Get going.” Terry punched Ken’s shoulder. “I’ll call you if something’s happened.”
“Okay. Good night. And you guys be careful.”
“We will,” Terry promised.
“See you tomorrow,” Tom said, waving.
Ken walked off to his pickup truck. They watched him go. His head hung low and his shoulders were slumped. He weaved back and forth slightly, as if he were drunk.
“Jesus,” Tom whispered. “You were right. He really is beat.”
Terry nodded. “His ass is dragging, all right.”
Ken’s headlights came on and the engine thrummed. They heard the distant strains of Jerry Reed belting out “Eastbound and Down,” the theme from
“Anything?” Terry asked.
“No. If he’s there, he ain’t answering. How about you?”
“I got their answering machine. I didn’t leave a message, though. Don’t want to worry their kids just yet. Let’s check the trail first.”
