“Wyatt isn’t a customer there, is he?”
“No, he’s a bouncer, like Floyd and Georgie. Most of her boys work the club when they’re not working on job sites. Especially when times are hard.”
“Who is this ‘her’ you mentioned?”
“Henstrick.”
“Ah.” I felt embarrassed to have to be told.
Sara was getting impatient and I was done. I backed toward the door. “Thanks, Bill.”
He said he was glad to help. Sara asked me if what I’d said about Africa was true.
“Be sure to lock the door behind me.” I left.
If I had played my hand right, Sara would begin asking around, spreading the rumor. Annalise was going to have to go after Charles Hammer again, and Hammer would know we were coming. I wondered how much it would take to truly isolate him.
A police car was parked across the street. Inside I saw the silhouette of the same fat officer I’d seen earlier.
I heard a clatter nearby. I turned toward the sound.
Something low and gray moved out from the side of the Dumpster. At first I thought it was a dog. Then I saw the tinge of red fur. It was the wolf from the night before.
It stared at me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
The door to the bar opened. I whirled around and saw Bill limping toward me. He wore an eager, fevered expression.
“You’re here for something, aren’t you?” he asked.
I glanced back at the mouth of the parking lot. The wolf was gone. “Yeah. A couple beers and dinner.”
“Sure, sure. I understand. Listen, have you talked to Pete Lemly yet?”
“Who’s he?”
“Our local newspaper guy. He knows a lot of the local chess pieces, and how they like to move.”
The police car across the street started up and pulled away. Bill glanced over at it, noticing it for the first time. His expression grew fearful. “Oh, Lord. I gotta get.” He hustled back into the bar.
Apparently, I was not a person to be seen with.
I started walking. Two couples passed me headed for the bar. They walked close together as though huddling against the darkness, and when they laughed, their voices were too loud and full of strain.
I heard a woman scream. The couples heard it as well. They stood still, looking at one another as though waiting for someone else to make a decision.
I ran toward the sound. The woman, whoever she was, kept screaming. I sprinted around the corner and heard them following me.
About twenty yards ahead, I saw a woman standing on the far side of a Dodge Neon. Her face was lit by a fire in the car. She wore an expression of utter horror.
Then the fire went out. She staggered against a tree planted by the curb. A wave of wriggling silver shapes spilled out the back door, swarmed onto the nearest lawn, and burrowed into it.
I was just a few yards away when I felt that sudden
I slowed my pace. The woman brushed at her coat and then dragged a little girl from the backseat, urging her to hurry because it was already so late.
I stood ten yards away and watched her. Damn. Her child was gone, and she’d already forgotten. She noticed me and started to hurry. I had scared her.
The whole town was scaring me.
I walked around the block. By the time I reached the Neon, the woman and her child were gone. A black scorch mark on the sidewalk led toward the lawn, where the dirt was loose and shiny black in the streetlight. Another dead kid.
I walked toward the motel. At the last minute, I turned up the road and walked to the supermarket again. It took me an hour, but I eventually returned with a sack full of the last lean beef in the store. It was only four pounds, but if Annalise wasn’t healed, it would be better than nothing. At least I didn’t run into that cashier again.
As I walked across the parking lot, I noticed that the lights were on in her room. I went into my room next door, set the food on the table, and thumped lightly on the wall.
She knocked on my door within a few seconds. I let her in, then went into the bathroom to wash my face. I hate the feeling of dried sweat on my face.
“How are your hands?” I asked her.
“They’re a little worse,” she said. “Not too much worse, but they aren’t good. I’m not sure what I should do.”
Neither was I. I finished washing up and joined her in the other room. She was tearing the plastic off a skirt steak. Her hands were stiff and awkward.
“What about the rest of the Twenty Palace Society?” I asked.
