What Dan remembered best about that Saturday wasn’t the ride from Boston to the Crown Motel, because the four people in John Dalton’s SUV said very little. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable or hostile but exhausted—the quiet of people who have a great deal to think about but not a hell of a lot to say. What he remembered best was what happened when they reached their destination.
Dan knew she was waiting, because he had been in touch with her for most of the trip, talking in a way that had become comfortable for them—half words and half pictures. When they pulled in, she was sitting on the back bumper of Billy’s old truck. She saw them and jumped to her feet, waving. At that moment the cloud cover, which had been thinning, broke apart and a ray of sun spotlighted her. It was as if God had given her a high five.
Lucy gave a cry that was not quite a scream. She had her seatbelt unbuckled and her door open before John could bring his Suburban to a complete stop. Five seconds later she had her daughter in her arms and was kissing the top of her head—the best she could do, with Abra’s face crushed between her br**sts. Now the sun spotlighted them both.
Mother and child reunion, Dan thought. The smile that brought felt strange on his face. It had been a long time between smiles.
2
Lucy and David wanted to take Abra back to New Hampshire. Dan had no problem with that, but now that they were together, the six of them needed to talk. The fat man with the ponytail was back on duty, today watching a cage-fighting match instead of p**n . He was happy to re-rent them Room 24; it was nothing to him whether they spent the night or not. Billy went into Crownville proper to pick up a couple of pizzas. Then they settled in, Dan and Abra talking turn and turn about, filling in the others on everything that had happened and everything that was going to happen. If things went as they hoped, that was.
“No,” Lucy said at once. “It’s far too dangerous. For both of you.”
John offered a bleak grin. “The most dangerous thing would be to ignore these . . . these things. Rose says that if Abra doesn’t come to her, she’ll come to Abra.”
“She’s, like, fixated on her,” Billy said, and selected a slice of pepperoni-and-mushroom. “Happens lots of times with crazy people. All you have to do to know that is watch Dr. Phil.”
Lucy fixed her daughter with a reproachful glance. “You goaded her. That was a dangerous thing to do, but when she has a chance to settle down . . .”
Although no one interrupted, she trailed off. Maybe, Dan thought, she heard how implausible that sounded when it was actually articulated.
“They won’t stop, Mom,” Abra said. “She won’t stop.”
“Abra will be safe enough,” Dan said. “There’s a wheel. I don’t know how to explain it any better than that. If things get bad—if they go wrong—Abra will use the wheel to get away. To pull out. She’s promised me that.”
“That’s right,” Abra said. “I promised.”
Dan fixed her with a hard look. “And you’ll keep it, won’t you?”
“Yes,” Abra said. She spoke firmly enough, although with obvious reluctance. “I will.”
“There’s all those kids to consider, too,” John said. “We’ll never know how many this True Knot has taken over the years. Hundreds, maybe.”
Dan thought that if they lived as long as Abra believed, the number was probably in the thousands. He said, “Or how many they will take, even if they leave Abra alone.”
“That’s assuming the measles doesn’t kill them all,” Dave said hopefully. He turned to John. “You said that really might happen.”
“They want me because they think I can cure the measles,” Abra said. “Duh.”
“Keep a civil tongue, miss,” Lucy said, but she spoke absently. She picked up the last slice of pizza, looked at it, then threw it back in the box. “I don’t care about the other kids. I care about Abra. I know how horrible that sounds, but it’s the truth.”
“You wouldn’t feel that way if you’d seen all those little pictures in the Shopper,” Abra said. “I can’t get them out of my head. I dream about them sometimes.”
“If this crazy woman has half a brain, she’ll know Abra isn’t coming alone,” Dave said. “What’s she going to do, fly to Denver and then rent a car? A thirteen-year-old?” And, with a half-humorous look at his daughter: “Duh.”
Dan said, “Rose already knows from what happened at Cloud Gap that Abra’s got friends. What she doesn’t know is that she has at least one with the shining.” He looked at Abra for confirmation. She nodded. “Listen, Lucy. Dave. Together, I think that Abra and I can put an end to this”—he searched for the right word and found only one that fit—“plague. Either of us alone . . .” He shook his head.
“Besides,” Abra said, “you and Dad can’t really stop me. You can lock me in my room, but you can’t lock up my head.”
Lucy gave her the Death Stare, the one mothers save especially for rebellious young daughters. It had always worked with Abra, even when she was in one of her furies, but it didn’t this time. She looked back at her mother calmly. And with a sadness that made Lucy’s heart feel cold.