In the dark night, through his binoculars, Rath kept his eyes locked on the grim light from Preacher’s window. The light rain had become a downpour.
At 9:47, Preacher’s window fell dark.
Rath remained in the dark for another hour. Then, convinced Preacher was asleep, he trekked back to the Scout. He’d need a few hours’ sleep before he returned at 5:00 a.m. to take up watch again, but knew he would not get it. He’d lie awake until he had to get up and sit beside Ice Pond again.
Back in cell service on the slow drive home in the fog, Rath’s phone buzzed with three voice-mail messages.
The first from Rachel. “Hey. It’s me. Thought I’d call, old school for once. Instead of text. I’m going to sleep soon, but just wanted to let you know I’m OK. No”—she paused—“no incidents today. Felix and I had a good day. And—” Rath heard her click her tongue, as she did when she was mulling what to say next. “I’m sorry. That you had to find my mom like that. I mean. She was your big sister. You grew up with her. I don’t even remember her.” She paused again. “Anyway,” she said, brightening her voice, forcing faux cheer into it, “everything’s A-OK here, I hope it is for you. Good to hear your voice even if it’s recorded. Love ya.”
Rath looked up. The Scout had come to a stop in the middle of Forgotten Gorge Road, the white fog like a wall of snow in the headlights. He’d let his foot off the gas pedal and not paid any attention to his driving during the message. He was lucky he’d not driven into the abyss. How was it one could travel so far without paying attention and not get hurt? He imagined the subconscious took over, an ancient survival technique.
He listened to Rachel’s message three more times.
Checked the other messages.
Chief Barrons had called at 5 p.m.
“We have a situation. You do, anyway,” he said. “If you can’t make it to the station tonight, come by first thing in the morning. I’m in at eight. Or if you’re up all night as usual, stop by my place before I leave for work. But see me in person. Unless you want me to send an officer out to arrest you.”
Rath hung up. Situation? Arrest?
Rath would have dismissed the last bit as a joke, except Barrons’s voice lacked any levity.
“I don’t have time for this,” Rath muttered, but knew he’d have to make time. Knew he’d have to leave Preacher unwatched, if for a few hours. The next message was Test. She’d left it just an hour earlier at 10:22 p.m.
“We need to talk. We’ve found a body. I’m interviewing the parents in the morning. I hear you’re coming in tomorrow to see Barrons for some reason. I’ll find you.”