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that Winslow knew the truth, but was being a gentleman by not mentioning it.
    “That’s right,” he said. “What are you thinking?”
    “I’d be happy to look after them,” Carol Herman said. As always, she wore a pert smile. “There’s more than enough room at our place. There’s even enough room if Mr. Beaumont and his girls would like to join us.”
    Monty, standing within hearing distance, said, “That would be very kind of you, Mrs. Herman.”
    “Please, call me Carol.”
    Winslow asked, “Does that work for you, Griffin?”
    Griffin nodded, feeling a rush of relief. There was no one better suited to the job than Carol Herman. He’d been to their house several times after Jess’s death, and few people could help mend a wounded soul like the astronomer’s wife. “Thank you.”
    “Our pleasure. Now let’s hurry. I don’t think we want to get caught with our pants down if one of those things comes back.”

 
     
    6
     
    Julie stood near the window at the front of Soucey’s Market, right near the stack of Kingsford Charcoal, watching Sheriff Frost, Griffin Butler and Pastor Dodge climb into Winslow Herman’s SUV. Winslow fired up the engine, said something to Frost in the passenger seat, and started south down Main Street.
    She waited until they were completely out of view before stepping away from the window and heading toward the door.
    “Excuse me, ma’am, didn’t you hear what the Sheriff said? It’s best if you stay here for now.”
    It was one of the local yokels. Not the owner of the place, but one of the part-timers.
    Julie tried to keep her cool. “Actually, the Sheriff said we didn’t have to stay here. She said we could return to our homes, if we’d like. And right now, that’s just what I want to do.”
    The yokel didn’t seem like he knew how to respond to this. He just stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to figure her out. Finally he nodded. “Yes, ma’am, absolutely. You just be careful, okay?”
    She turned away and pushed through the door, releasing an angry breath. She didn’t have much time. Not with the sheriff and the rest of them already headed to the depot. Fortunately, she didn’t have far to go. Not that she was positive she would find him at the Brick House, which was only a couple of buildings down from Soucey’s, but it was a safe bet.
    She walked the distance with her eyes on the sky, each clack of her heels striking the sidewalk feeling more and more like the ticking of Captain’s Hook’s crocodile, reminding her that doom was near. She made a mental note to change her clothes when she had a chance.
    As expected, she found him sitting at the bar, hunched over a beer and carefully peeling the label off the bottle. A few other people were in the Brick House, too, drowning away their fears the old fashioned way. Walter Harrison stood behind the bar, filling a pitcher like it was just any other day. His black hair was slicked back with gel. He was dressed in his uniform of blue jeans and a flannel. His face was neatly shaven. Of everyone in town, the recent changes seemed to be affecting him the least. Julie guessed she understood. When the world fell apart, it was a bartender’s job to keep everyone’s sanity together.
    “Get you anything, Ms. Barnes?”
    She didn’t know why, but his referring to her like that always made her uncomfortable. She could never tell if he was being sincere or using the formal nature to berate her. As was almost always the case, she managed to shake it off and forced a smile. “No thanks.” She steered herself toward Charley Wilson, sitting at the far end of the bar.
    Sidling up next to him, she whispered, “I need to talk to you.”
    He barely even acknowledged her, as he kept peeling the label from the beer bottle.
    “How many have you had?”
    No answer.
    She asked Walter, “How many has he had?”
    The bartender shrugged. “You think I’m keeping count?”
    “Yeah,” she said, nodding with wide-eyed