31

I noticed the moon as I drove to Susan’s place. It wasn’t full—not yet—but in a few days it would be. I remembered what Lambert had said about seeing Old Nathaniel in the full moon, how the cornfield became a different place under the light of a full moon. Virginia had said the same thing, and I wondered if it was possible that this talk of full moons mattered in a way I was missing.

Each breath I took through my nostrils, felt like a windstorm of pain, and my gut felt like it was bleeding on the inside, so maybe I wasn’t even thinking right, but the moon suddenly seemed important.

“Was there anything in the legend about Old Nathaniel and the moon?” I asked Rufus as I made the turn into Riley’s nicest neighborhood, a quaint little area called Tumble Brook.

“Not that I know of, but nothing would surprise me. Could be he got conflated with the werewolf myth. Why do you ask?”

“I was just noticing the moon. And the people who claim to have seen Old Nathaniel all mentioned that they could see him clearly because of the full moon. Apparently, the cornfield comes alive when the moon is full.”

Rufus grunted but didn’t offer anything else.

Despite the pain, I kept glancing at the moon, trying to estimate how many days until it was full again. Three? Maybe.

The GPS on my phone told me Susan’s house was up on the right. I’d called earlier, and she’d said Rufus and I were both more than welcome to stay, as long as one of us didn’t mind sleeping on the couch.

I pulled into the driveway and stopped the engine. “When you open the car door,” I said, “the walkway will be right there. It’ll get you to the steps of her porch.”

“You ain’t coming?”

“I need to think for a minute.”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ve got to get some sleep, so that’s going to put you on the couch. Good with that?”

“Yeah,” I said.

He got out of the car, and I watched as he navigated his way slowly to her front door.

I opened my smartphone and searched for moon phases, Georgia. I clicked the first link that appeared, and a chart showed up, detailing the moon cycle in this area for the entire year. I zoomed in and found October. The first full moon was on October 5. It was listed as the Harvest Moon. I went back to the home screen and saw that today was Saturday, September 30. The 5th would be on Thursday. As soon as I realized that, I was struck by the overwhelming sense that something else was happening on Thursday, something that I needed to remember.

Something that hadn’t made a lot of sense when I’d first heard about it …

Of course. Walsh’s rally for traditional values was Thursday, something that had struck me as a strange time to plan an event that he clearly hoped would be big. Unless, of course, part of the point of the event was to make sure everyone was distracted …

But from what? That’s where my full moon theory fell apart. Even if my gut told me the full moon was important, and that Walsh’s rally was a ruse, I still had no idea what either one of those two things meant.

I sighed and started to get out of the truck. Then I stopped. It had been several days since I’d tried it. Might as well give it a shot. I unlocked my phone and dialed Mary’s cell.

It rang three times, just as it had always done and then went to voicemail.

“This is Mary. I promise I’ll call you back. Just leave a message and tell me who you are and what you want!”

There was a long beep, which I knew signified her voicemail box was almost full. When the beep ended, I began to speak.

“It’s Earl. I love you. I—I’m going to find you. Wherever you are, I’m going to be there too. Just give me a little more—” The line beeped, signaling that there was no more room on her voicemail.

“—time,” I said into the silent phone.

*   *   *

After a shower, Susan plied me with Percocet, and I fell asleep on the couch, feeling nothing for the first time since Mary had vanished. I knew it was a risk because every second wasted seemed like it took me further away from ever seeing Mary again, but I also knew that pushing my body too hard would lessen the chance of me ever finding her.

So I slept and didn’t wake up until nearly ten, when Briscoe began tugging on my beard and giggling. Despite feeling like I’d been kicked in the mouth and pissed on the night before, I couldn’t help but laugh too. He was so damned cute.

I sat up, realizing I had not dreamed of the black water rising, or if I had, it was lost to me now in the fog of the Percocet. I heard voices coming from the kitchen, and then Virginia stepped in.

“There you are. Leave Mr. Earl alone.”

Briscoe giggled and toddled away as if he was being chased.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I need to get up.”

“Ms. Susan made breakfast.”

“I smell it,” I said.

Virginia went back into the kitchen, and I sat there for a moment, trying to think. I couldn’t afford to linger over breakfast. I’d have to grab something and get out the door.

When I walked into the kitchen, Rufus had Briscoe in his lap and was letting the boy play with his jowls. I laughed at that, mostly because Briscoe didn’t seem to be the least bit intimidated by Rufus or the outsized shades he wore.

“How do you feel?” Susan asked.

“Perfect,” I lied.

“I doubt that.”

“It’s true.”

“What’s the plan for today?” Rufus said as I sat down.

“You don’t want to know.”

“Ah,” Rufus said, “you’re breaking the law with Ronnie.”

“We’re not breaking the law. We’re just going to hit up a tattoo parlor where somebody has supposedly seen Old Nathaniel.” I didn’t mention that we hoped to find out where the warehouse was on Summer Mountain, so we could break into it.

“Should I just hang here?” Rufus asked.

“Do you mind?”

“Are you kidding? Susan’s a great cook, and”—he grinned—“these kids are damned fine company.”