"Maybe you should talk to Mom and Dad."

"What would I say?"

"Say what you said to me."

"Everything?"

"Yeah, everything."

"They won't know how to handle it, Josh."

"They're stronger people than you think, Spence. They really are. You probably need an attorney right now. Dad knows a couple of good ones in town here."

I got up and started pacing, gaping out the window every few seconds, half-expecting to see the Chief down there again.

"Should I tell them about the well?"

"I guess," he said. "But I sure wouldn't say you believe there's something down there."

"I talked to a shrink about that."

"Yeah?"

I told him about Shared Psychotic Disorder.

"I'm glad you had that talk. I was starting to worry about you."

I paced some more.

He just watched me.

I kept thinking that the Chief could never actually suspect me. I wasn't the killer type. I was this harmless kid who read a lot of Sci-Fi paperbacks and served in the Army and then came back home to settle into adulthood. I guess most of us think that waya"that most people see each of us as innocents who couldn't do anything that was terribly wrong, that they see that overall we're good, decent people just like they are. But for the first time, I wondered if that was true. Maybe that wasn't how people perceived me at all. Maybe they saw me as sinister in some way, maybe they wouldn't have any trouble at all seeing me as a murderer.

But I kept seeing him bent into the back seat there, retrieving something. And putting it into an evidence bag.

"This is gonna be hard, Josh. Telling Mom and Dad."

"You better do it before the Chief does."

"I guess that's a good point."

"She's got to tell the truth."

"She?"

"Cindy Brasher."

"Oh."

"She's got to go to the Chief and tell him exactly what happened."

"She's afraid of being sent back to the mental hospital."

"Tough s.h.i.t, Spence. This is your life we're talking about here."

I went to the window, looked out again. The snow was blue now that the moon had disappeared behind the clouds, that winter night blue that is the wan color of an alien landscape.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang.

"s.h.i.t," I said.

"What?"

"It's late for company."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Would you go down and see who it is?"

He stood up and came over to me and took me roughly by the arm. "You've got to get control of yourself, Spence. You understand?"

I did understand.

I took several deep breaths.

His big hand was still cinched on my arm.

I guess he could see that I was calming down.

"I'll be back up right away."

"Thanks, Josh."

"Just keep control of yourself."

"I will. I promise."

"This thing is going to come out all right. It really will."

I knew he'd said that just to make me feel better but I appreciated it.

From downstairs, I could hear the faint rumble of voices. Mom and Dad talking to the visitor.

He gave me a buck-up hit on the arm and then left my room.

I went back to the window and looked out.

Night is so different from day. Two completely separate worlds. That's why vampires always made sense to me. They're truly creatures of the night.

It seemed like a hour, waiting there for Josh.

He came up the stairs very, very slowly. Usually he bounds up them two at a time. I knew this was a bad sign. Walking slowly mean that he was reluctant to give me bad news.

He came into the room and stood there for a moment looking at me.

My bowels went cold and my heart started hammering so hard, it scared me.

"The Chief's downstairs talking to Mom and Dad," he said. Then he paused a really long time. "I guess he did find something in your car tonight."

"What?"

"A knife."

"Oh, G.o.d."

"With blood all over it."

"Garrett planted it. That sonofab.i.t.c.h."

"The Chief thinks it's the murder weapon."

I felt as bad for Mom and Dad as I did for me. I couldn't imagine what they must be feeling right nowa"terror, fear, embarra.s.smenta"the Chief standing there and implying that perhaps their son was a killer.

"The Chief would like you to come down."

"All right."

"Right away, he said."

"I'll be down. Just give me a minute. I need to go to the john." And I did. My body felt as if it were starting to run amuck, organ by organ. I couldn't think clearly at all. Reality seemed to be lost behind a wispy fog of horror.

"You really should come down."

"Just tell him I needed to go to the john."

Josh nodded. "We're going to fight this, Spence."

He didn't sound nearly as positive as he had right before he'd gone downstairs.

Then he surprised me by coming over and hugging me. I almost cried. I really did. Because I felt in the hug not only brotherly affection but fear. After seeing the Chief, Josh was as frightened for me as I was.

I spent a quick minute in the john and then hurried back to my room.

I had to move quickly.

Before the Chief got curious and came upstairs.

I stuffed a scarf, gloves, and hunting knife into my jacket. I slipped my jeans off and slipped on a pair of long johns then tugged on my jeans again. I put on one of my heavy Army sweaters. I even put on those old lace-up hunting boots that I'd inherited from Dad.

I was warm as I could be and still remain ambulatory.

Raising the window without making any noise was difficult. I had to raise it a quarter-inch at a time.

As I eased it up, I could feel the cold night air slipping into the house.

In a strange way, the cold air felt good, almost inviting. I was going to be one of those night creatures now. Running for my life. The way so many of the comic books and paperbacks had depicted the lives of their heroes, misunderstood people hunted by stupid and vicious mobs.

I raised the window only as high as absolutely necessary, and then I pushed myself through the opening and stood on the snow-laden roof of the back porch.

I dropped to the ground, the shock to my knees considerable, despite the snowfall.

Then I started running.

I didn't know what else to do.

All I could think of was the b.l.o.o.d.y knife the Chief had found. Pretty convincing evidence. He'd mark me guilty and not listen to anything I had to say.

I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't.

PART THREE.

CHAPTER ONE.

After a time, I was beyond pain. I slipped and fell so many times, hurt so many parts of my body, landing on hands and knees torn raw, that I became numb.

I had no idea where I was going.

To reach the edge of town, I took a succession of alleys. The sight of chimney smoke had a sentimental effect on me. I thought of all the lucky people in those snug little houses. I envied them, and in a way I even hated them. They'd believe what the Chief told them to believe. They'd think I was guilty. They'd say, Oh, yes, he always was a strange boy. I guess I ain't exactly surprised he killed old Mae.

I ran.

When I reached the edge of town, I swung over to the rail yards. The half mile or so of double-track box cars hid me pretty well.

I thought of swinging myself up into one of the cars and hiding there for a time. But the rail yard was probably one of the first places they'd look. Freight trains came in twenty-four hours a day. They'd probably figure I'd hop one.

Then I ran down empty gravel roads that cut between fallow cornfields covered with midnight blue snow. The harder I ran, the more dream-like it all seemed to me. I saw a hawk glide down the moonbeams, and I was so touched by its majestic loneliness that I almost cried. I didn't want to escape on a box car. I wanted to escape on the back of a hawk, have him take me to one of the faraway lands I read about in my paperbacks.

A car came rumbling up over the hill behind me.

I pitched myself straight down into the ravine. More pain. I barely felt it.