Ledger grabbed his shoulder and shoved him roughly toward the truck.
“Because I want the body he’s in to walk away from this,” he said. “So we’re not putting a hole in it. Get in the truck.”
The birds reached them first. Fast, feathery bodies dove and swooped, quick and sure even in the dim light. They skimmed along the road, almost touching the asphalt, and eddied around Ledger and the truck.
On the street behind them, Earl picked up his pace, taking longer strides.
Ledger ducked his head to avoid the birds and scrambled into the cab. He’d left the keys in the ignition, and he turned them jerkily. The engine coughed, spluttered, and died. Ledger cursed under his breath as he checked the mirror. Earl was almost close enough to touch the truck, close enough that Ledger could see the milky gray eyes narrow.
He tried the ignition again. This time the engine caught. Ledger slammed the truck into drive and the pedal to the floor. The truck lurched forward and jolted down off the curb. Ledger hung onto the wheel as he sped away up the road.
After a second, he peeled one hand off the wheel and reached up to swivel the rearview mirror so it pointed at the ceiling.
“Don’t look back,” he said.
“Why not?” Dale asked. He reached up to readjust the mirror. “And how come you’re the one who gets to set the rules?”
“I have the keys,” Ledger said. He grabbed the mirror before Dale could and wrenched it from its moorings. “And I make better choices than you. And that’s saying something.”
He threw the mirror into the back of the cab. It rattled around as Ledger sped through nighttime Sutton and cornered tightly down alleys.
“Did Bell love you?” Dale asked.
That was a strange question. Ledger looked over at Dale, then got his attention back on the road. “No,” he said.
“I can see why.”
Ledger just snorted.
When they had driven to Earl’s house the other day, Wren had taken the back roads. It was the only way Ledger knew, so he followed suit, passing by the corn processing plant and through the dark, eerie fields. No matter how fast he went or how close he cut the corners, there was an itching little thought in the back of his head.
Look back. It’s gaining. Just check. Look back.
What would he do if it was? he wondered. The answer was nothing, but the itch kept itching regardless.
He caught sight of the rusted old gate—a No Trespassing sign zip-tied to the bars—a second too late. It flashed by and was gone. Ledger hit the brakes. The deceleration jolted them both forward. Ledger shifted into reverse, slammed his foot on the pedal, and sped backward until he saw the gate again. He shifted back into drive, spun the wheel, and then took the corner without dropping below ninety MPH. The truck hit the gate at that speed. It might have lost a headlight, but it demolished the gate.
The metal grille hung over the bull bars; its broken ends scraped along the pockmarked drive. Ledger squinted over it as he barrelled toward Earl’s house. He only swung the wheel at the last minute, sliding to a stop close enough to the side of the house Dale could have reached out and touched it.
“I hate motors,” Dale said. He pushed the door open and half fell out of the truck. He steadied himself against the side. “We should have stuck with horses.”
“What do you care?” Ledger asked. “An accident wouldn’t kill you.”
“I know that,” Dale said. Then he pressed his hand to his chest. His heart hadn’t beaten in centuries, but the symbolism was instinctive. “I just don’t feel it.”
Ledger loped up the steps to the front door. It wasn’t locked and swung open when he gave it a push. The smell of old skin and sin seeped out. Ledger grimaced briefly and then walked in. Halfway down the hall, he realized that Dale wasn’t with him.
He turned around.
Dale stood at the threshold, frozen in place. He met Ledger’s eyes.
“I can’t,” he said. It seemed to free something when he said that, and he started to back away from the door. “Not in there. Not again.”
Ledger supposed he didn’tneedDale for this part. He just didn’t want to go in alone.
“Fine,” Ledger said. “But stay here. We don’t have much time.”
He left Dale to loiter on the doorstep as he headed toward the living room. The door was already open, and Earl was more or less where it’d been the last time Ledger saw it. It hung from its own strings, caught up in a cat’s cradle of skin, with its head lolled and insensible.
