No cops flashed their cherries at me. After what seemed like an ice age, I came to the road that led to our subdivision, and as I did, a million images rushed into my head, all of them bad. I assumed that Bill’s killers had asked him a few questions. Things like who he’d told about seeing Fat Boy and Cobra Man at the Doc’s house, and where did those people live? And Bill would have talked. When I came to our drive I killed the lights and made the turn. I drove slow. It was dark up the drive and the trees were thick and looped with shadows. I drove halfway up the drive without going off of it or running into a tree. I pulled into one of the concrete outlets we had constructed for extra parking, and scrutinized the house. The windows were dark. Not a trace of light. That made some sense. It was the kid’s bedtime, but still early for Bev. Then again, Bev was expecting me home, and there might be nothing more going on than her lying in our warm bed waiting for me, everything all right, nothing but pleasure to look forward to.
