He slid out on the creeper. “They got left out in the rain once too often. But I guess it would be a quick, painless way to go, crushed by a fucking jeep.”

“Yeah? I think you underestimate both. It wouldn’t be quick, and it definitely wouldn’t be painless.”

Dane sat up and rested his greasy forearm on the knee he propped up. “What’s up?”

I pulled over his toolbox and sat on it across from him. He scratched his neck, a neck that was red with hickies. “Shit, Dane, were you out with a fucking vampire last night?”

He laughed. “Yeah, Sage likes to use her teeth a lot, so I guess I was.” He looked toward the house. “You know, Dad looks like a fucking zombie, like he’s not going to last.”

“Yeah, I know.” It was unusual for Dane to take note of things like that, like somebody’s health worsening, which meant Dad was in a bad way. “Actually, Dane, I wanted to talk to you about some stuff that happened back when we were kids.”

He reached up to his neck. “She didn’t leave any fucking teeth marks did she? Told her not to leave teeth marks. Told her to stay clear of the ink. Didn’t want her to fuck up any tattoos.”

I sighed in frustration and took a closer look at his neck. “Don’t see teeth marks, but you’re coating your neck with grease.” I sat back. “I need you to concentrate, all right?”

He looked directly at me, which was a good start. Probably wouldn’t last long.

“Remember about sixteen years ago, you were around ten, and—” Even though I knew his attention span was limited it was a harder topic to bring up than I’d expected, mostly because it had been one of the craziest things my brother had done in a long string of rash decisions. “There was a little girl—” I took a deep breath. “You locked her in the fur trappers’ shelter. Remember? You were messing around with me right here in this yard, and you let it slip—you let it slip about the girl in the trappers’ shelter.”

He was still focused on his neck, and I was regretting bringing it up. “Dane, where’d she come from? I figured you were just messing around and decided to do something, you know, something crazy.”

His brows creased. “You’re the fucking crazy one, Jem. Don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I never put a girl in that hole. I’m mean I’ve fucked in some really strange places—”

“No, Dane. This happened when we were kids. You must have been around ten. When Dad used to take you out to do whatever the hell he was doing.”

He rubbed his chin and left another streak of grease. He’d faded off, and I couldn’t tell if he was just focused on something else or if he was trying to remember back to when he was ten.

“You still with me, bro?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, I remember.” He kicked my foot with his. “Shit, did you think I put some little girl down there? Why the fuck would I do a creepy thing like that? No, I was in the front of Dad’s truck. We were out on Phantom Curve, and they were filling the back of Dad’s truck.”

“With what?”

He shrugged. “Don’t remember. Some stolen shit. I just remember Dad was so fucking angry. He was stomping around with that face—remember that face—the one that always warned us to stay the hell out of his way.”

I nodded. “I remember it well. Why was he so mad?”

“Don’t really know. But I’d overheard them talking about a little girl and hiding her in the old fur trappers’ shelter. But damn, Jem, I didn’t put her in there. Just how fucking nuts would that be? Don’t think it ever happened. They were just talking, is all.”

“Think you might be wrong about that, Dane.” I looked back at the house where Dad was still sleeping. Just maybe it was time to rouse him. “I’ll let you get back to the jeep. And watch yourself around those girls that bite.”

He picked up his wrench. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

I walked into Dad’s house. It smelled of stale beer and weed and dirty dishes. Dad hadn’t made it to the bedroom. He was sleeping on the couch, holding the remote as if it was the last thing keeping him alive. Which it just might have been. He hadn’t gone out on a job in days. He looked even thinner and more sallow than the last time I saw him. He would be gone soon. He’d finally succeeded in that suicide attempt he’d tried long ago. Only this time, he’d taken the long, tedious path to death through alcohol. And this time, his kid wouldn’t be able to hold him up until help came. This time there was nothing anyone could do to save him.

I sat on the coffee table and waited a long, tense moment to see if his chest moved. He took a long, wavering breath and released a deep snore.

“Dad.” I gave him a little shake.

The yellow glaze in his sunken eyes and hollow cheeks did make him look the way Dane had described, like a zombie. It took him a second to recognize me.

“Jem, what are you doing here so late?”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

He lifted his head and squinted toward the window. His head dropped against the couch pillow as if it had been filled with sand. “Shit, didn’t know it was morning. Where’s Dane?”

“He’s out working on the jeep.”

He turned his face and looked up at me. “You need to look after him when I’m gone, Jem.”

“You mean like I’ve been doing my whole fucking life?”

He smiled weakly. His gums were pale and bleeding. “You have. Not sure what I’d have done without you around.”

It was rare for Dad to say anything parent-like or human-like for that matter. “Well, for starters, you’d be dead. Remember?”

He reached up and fingered the scar on his neck. “Guess so. I know I was asking a lot of you when I told you to take the fall for Dane in that robbery.” He looked at me with cloudy eyes. “He wouldn’t have made it in jail, but it wasn’t right to ask you to give up three years of your life.”

I shrugged. “I wasn’t just thinking about Dane. I had a selfish motive for going along with it. Thought it would be better than living here.” It was my turn to finger my scar. “Sure as shit was wrong about that. Dad, I need to know what the hell has been going on in this town all these years. The accidents on Phantom Curve, the missing girls.” My last words made his jaw tighten. “What part were you playing?”

The tiny muscle twitched in the side of his face.

“What the hell does it matter now? You’ve got one foot in the grave, old man.” My stomach clenched tightly, and it was a question I dreaded almost as much as the answer. “Dad, did you have something to do with the missing girls?”

He looked at me and was far more alert than he’d been five seconds earlier. “Hell no, Jem. Why the fuck would you ask that? This crappy end, I deserve it one hundred percent, but I had nothing to do with the missing girls.”

“Because a lot of dirty shit happens here, and it always seems to be linked to Alcott Wolfe.”

He covered his eyes with his forearm. “Too fucking bright in here. Get out, Jem. My head’s killing me.”

I stayed. “The accidents on Phantom Curve—are you the phantom, Dad? Did you cause those trucks to veer off the road?”

He didn’t lift his arm from his face, but I could see his throat move as he swallowed. I wondered if he was swallowing back all the ugly, bitterness of what he’d done.

It seemed he wasn’t going to talk. “So, you’re going to take everything to the grave, and people in this town will be justified for labeling you as a fucking monster. Guess that answers my question.” I got up.

“Had nothing to do with the missing girls. Don’t you go thinking that, Jem. Don’t even get a grain of that in your mind. Your opinion of me is already low enough. I don’t need you thinking I was some kind of freak. I did shit to keep you boys fed and clothed. But I wasn’t in charge of anything. I’ve been a fucking pawn in all this.”

“Then who’s the king?”

He laughed weakly. “I’m already dead so it doesn’t matter. If I tell you, he’ll kill you. Just leave it alone, Jem.”