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request, because going home always stirred up the bad feelings between herself and her mother’s boyfriend, Clark Landon, along with memories from her childhood that she’d rather forget.
    Her earliest recollections of her father were of him staggering around the house drunk, yelling at her mom. Because of his fondness for the bottle, he’d barely been ableto support the family with a series of jobs for the railroad, a couple of trucking companies and then as a delivery man for a local flower shop. Because home hadn’t been a warm and comfortable place, she’d spent as much time elsewhere as she could. She’d haunted the library and gone home with friends after school. But the time would always come when she had to go back to the dilapidated bungalow where she lived. And she never knew what she was going to find there. Maybe her parents would be fighting. Or maybe Dad would be at one of the bars he frequented, and Mom would lock the door to keep him out. Then he might smash a window to get in and cut his hand and end up in the emergency room.
    Dad had finally drunk himself to death before he was fifty, which had made home life calmer. They’d gone on welfare, which hadn’t even made much difference in their lifestyle.
    She’d still been living at home when she’d met Craig. Moving to Baltimore had been the first step in her break from the past. They’d had four good years together, and when he’d gotten killed, she’d been in danger of slipping into depression—until she’d pulled herself together and started over again on her own.
    She’d thought she was in pretty good shape—until she’d woken up scared and shaken last night after a nightmare trip back to Gaptown.
    The closer they got to home, the more her nerves jumped and the more certain she was that she wasn’t going to like the outcome of this trip. Not at all.
    â€œSlow down,” she said. They were the first words she’d uttered since she’d gotten into Mack’s car. “There’s a speed trap ahead.”
    He pressed on the brake and they rounded a curve,where a cop car with flashing lights had stopped another motorist.
    â€œThanks,” he said. “Was that a psychic insight?”
    â€œNo,” she snapped, then continued in a milder tone.
    â€œI’m a native. I know the cops are lying in wait for out-of-towners around that bend.”
    When she saw a highway sign coming up, she felt a little jolt as the exit name flashed by. Smokehouse Road.
    â€œTake this exit,” she said.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œTake it,” she insisted.
    â€œWhy?” he asked again.
    â€œI don’t know for sure,” she answered honestly. “But I think we’re going to…find something.”
    She gripped the sides of her seat as he took the exit a little too fast. She wished she knew why she was giving him these directions. Or maybe she already knew, and she didn’t want to admit it.
    â€œRight or left?” he asked with an edge in his voice when they came off the exit ramp.
    â€œRight,” she answered, wondering why she was so certain where they were going. There was absolutely no hesitation on her part as she gave him directions.
    They drove for a few more moments before she told him to turn onto Jumping Jack Road.
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    F ROM A HIDING PLACE where he was sheltered by the woods, the man who called himself Fred Hyde took a bite of the caramel, nut and chocolate bar he’d brought along. He chewed with appreciation as he watched the activity down the hill through binoculars. All those cops rushing around looked like a bunch of ants serving their queen.
    He laughed. Yeah, ants.
    He’d considerately left the body where it was goingto be easily spotted—along the side of the road in a nice open valley. Then he’d made himself comfortable up here, waiting for the fuzz to show up and get to work. They’d be from Gaptown, but he