he recalls the feeling of a wooden floor beneath his knees. Recalls the sensation of a sleeve against the back of his neck. He recalls that man, Jack Allen, staring with him at the thing concealed under the sheet.
He recalls Jack Allen saying,
Everything proceeds from her death. Like a river from a wound in the earth.
Ethan said, “I think I remember something from last night. Something Jack Allen told me before the end.”
As Ethan spoke, Fernanda reached down the counter, past Kyla and Ethan, to pluck up Ryan’s empty shot glass. No one paid her much mind.
“I don’t know what the ceremony is or how it works. But Sarah Powers is still the key. Her death is the source of everything.”
“Meaning what?” Ryan said.
“Meaning that maybe the twins were onto something in the first place when they made their BS ultimatum. If we could figure out who killed Sarah, maybe we could stop the ceremony from starting in the first place. I—what’s wrong?”
Fernanda had stiffened. Ethan turned and saw that she was staring at the film in her hand through the bottom of the shot glass. When he leaned over to see what it was she’d found there, Fernanda lowered her hands. She stood, stuffing the film in her pocket. To Kyla, she said, “Where is the other roll of film? The one stolen from Sarah’s room?”
“Ask him,” Kyla said, nodding to Ryan. “What’s the matter?”
“We might have time to develop it if we’re quick. I need to see what Sarah saw.”
Ryan clearly had his own misgivings. “That roll of film is in the supply closet. I’ll go with you. Stanley’s in there too—I don’t want him trying anything funny. Just… don’t get your hopes up.”
Ethan said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ll explain later. I need to check on Stanley anyway. He’s a crafty bastard—I didn’t mean to leave him alone for this long.”
The lights of the cafe stuttered, briefly threatening to go down. They survived, but the warning was obvious.
Ethan said, “Be careful. We don’t know how long the generator will last.”
Ryan plucked up Stanley’s Desert Eagle. He checked the magazine, motioned for Fernanda, started for the door. “We’ll be right back.”
Kyla shook her head. “We’ll be fine here. Take the film straight to Sarah’s room—there’s chemicals in her bathtub, you can use them to develop the negatives. Just hurry.”
Fernanda said nothing. She picked up the other handgun and stuffed it down the waistband of her jeans. She had her head down, her hands in her pockets, the amber thread of film jutting from near her wrist.
Ethan said to Tabitha. “Didn’t you say that the first night, the night in ’55, ended a little after four o’clock?”
“Yes.”
He looked at his watch, the clock above the bar. The time was already 2:37.
STANLEY
“Wake up, Stanley.”
“Wake up.”
“Wakeup!”
Stanley felt an eerie tingle on the back of his neck, like the creeping of a frozen insect. It woke him, though he hadn’t realized he’d dozed off. The supply room was bitter cold. His arms ached from being tied to this wooden fucking chair and his feet were numb, and had they all forgotten about him? Abandoned Stanley tofreezeto death? They would regret that. They would regret that very fucking hard. Stanley knew things about the people here—about the boy who’d stolen his brother’s name, about the waitress who thought she was being so clever, about Fernanda and Ryan and all these fucking people—Stanley knew things they wouldn’tbeginto understand. He’d studied them. He and Sarah had spent the last weeks learning everything there was to know about them.
And this was how it turned out?
Sarah Powers had first wandered into Stockton Steaks on a night like any other night. She was tall, beautiful, an angel in thigh-high boots. That first night she’d arrived, Sarah had walked straight up to Frank’s table and sat down without being invited and looked between Frank and Stanley and said simply, “I can help y’all find your mothers.”
And look what that had come to.
