“The cavalry arrived just in time,” I said, feeling my head clearing. “Thank you.”

“It was close,” Krenkler said. “Luckily we had a window into your ridiculous attempt to fly solo.”

She nodded toward the door of the barn. Entering, surrounded by a half-dozen FBI agents, was my brother, hands behind his back. Krenkler had probably started digging into Jeremy’s background from the moment he’d stepped into Burton’s visitation. He’d told me how he’d put one over on Krenkler, asking to be part of the investigation. It appeared he’d misread the lady. His life in the forest - his life in the real world - was over.

Jeremy said something to one of the agents. The guy looked at me and laughed. My brother shot me a wink and a wave.

No handcuffs.

The agent patted Jeremy on the back, nodded at me. They both laughed like I was the butt of a joke.

“Doctor Charpentier came to us an hour ago,” Krenkler explained. “He said you were at his home earlier. You were looking for some place tucked way in the north of the county. You couldn’t raise McCoy on your cell and you thought a hiker like the doctor might know how to get here.”

I shot a glance at my brother. “I, uh … yes, that’s right.”

“The doctor also said you were acting pretty squirrely. He began to fear for your safety and called us. You owe him big time.”

Rourke extended his hand and I let him pull me to standing. I closed my eyes with my hands on my knees for a few seconds, getting my bearings. My brother had walked into the lion’s den to save my life.

Krenkler shook her head at me for a final time, then trotted over to inspect the body, snapping orders to the agents like they were errant bellhops. I went to Jeremy, now alone.

I said, “Thanks, Doc.”

“This has been very instructive,” he said quietly, sliding his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall, totally at ease. “I’ve been quite the curious fellow on the way here, asking the boys how they dig into people’s backgrounds and so forth.”

“The boys?”

“And, of course, dear Miss Krenkler. They’ve been most informative without realizing it. With a little more work I can harden my identity.”

I shook my head in amazement: My brother had once again fallen upwards. I went outside and found Cherry about to be taken to the hospital for a checkup. The paramedics were kind enough to allow us a few quiet moments together, and I followed the ambulance to the hospital.

Cherry’s exam and several X-rays took a half-hour. McCoy stopped by for a few minutes. After she was pronounced in remarkable shape, given her ordeal, we retreated to her home and stood in a steaming shower until the water ran cool. She poured us bourbon over ice, enlivened with a few ounces of seltzer. We sat on the porch as the stars wheeled overhead.

“How well did you know Horace?” I asked.

A long pause. “He laughed a lot. Bought me birthday gifts, graduation gifts. Things Mama couldn’t afford. I loved to be close to him because he smelled so good, his aftershave or cologne. I’d sit in his lap with my arms around his neck when I was little. One time I … he …”

She fell silent, her eyes far away and looking inside.

“Talk to me,” I said. “Don’t hide it.”

“I-I must have been ten, eleven. My birthday party. I was sitting on his lap and spooning ice cream into his mouth. I felt his hand on my legs, then … something tickled and I wriggled away. The ice cream fell on to him. I remember seeing this startled look on his face. I thought I’d done something wrong.”

“Do you think—”

“I think he was testing something, that he might have even scared himself. From that point on he started telling me I’d gotten too big to hold. For a long time I thought it was because I’d spilled ice cream on his lap. Then time sped up and it was junior high school and I was in the band and on the newspaper and then high school and I was in clubs and there were boys, whoopee. College and studies came next. I really didn’t see him much after I was thirteen or fourteen, too much happening in my life.”

“But he left you his home.”

“Horace had changed over the years, become a recluse. His big laugh went away. He had an enlarged heart that was expanding. I’d come to visit and he really seemed to appreciate the company and, uh, and …”

Reality crashed in and her words choked into tears. She stood and wiped them away with the back of her hand. She paced the porch until her voice was steady.

“I can’t believe what a monster he was, Carson. What a disgusting monster. I can’t live here any more, knowing what he was. I can’t.”

“Maybe Horace changed at the end,” I said.

“People like that never change, Carson. Their souls are too broken.”

She fell into the chair and put her head in her hands. I moved close and put my arm over her shoulder.

“Did you know Lee McCoy was on the recovery team when your uncle fell?” I asked.

Her face turned to me, puzzled. “He never mentioned it.”

“There’s something else Lee didn’t mention.”

I told her a brief story about a ranger rappelling to a body in a tree and finding a scrap of paper pinned to the corpse’s ice-cream suit. I handed her something McCoy had kept for three years, figuring it might someday be needed. I’d asked him to bring it to the hospital.

Donna Cherry stared at four words written in a whisper:

I’m sorry for everything

She folded the note, closed it in her hand, and we walked to the edge of the precipice, lit in the soft light from her porch.

“Two men involved in the fight camps died down there, Carson. One created horror, the other was trapped in it. Both were looking for freedom from their pasts. Why did they both die here? What does it mean?”

“Whatever you need it to mean,” I said. “Whatever it takes to work the magic.”

“Magic? What do you mean by …”

But I was already climbing the steps to her porch. I went inside and stripped her walls of the half-dozen implements used in training dogs. I took them outside and told her what they were.

“They’re all that remains of the bad,” I said. “If you kill them properly, you can set your home free.”

Cherry stared into my eyes for a long moment, nodded understanding. She went inside, returning minutes later in a simple gown of white. Her feet were bare in the warm grass. She was wearing Horace Cherry’s hat.

Cherry stood at the precipice with her eyes closed for five minutes, praying or chanting or simply wishing … it was only hers to know. She bent and picked up the bite stick and flung it high and away, watching it dissolve into the night sky. One by one I watched the other angry tools disappear into the dark. They reminded me of old knives sucked beneath green waves.

When the last device was gone, she pulled the hat from her head and launched it out over the valley. It floated on the breeze for a two-count, then tumbled into the depths. She turned to me.

Asked, “How’d I do?”

“Not mine to judge,” I said. “How do you feel?”

She pulled me close. Whispered in my ear.

Said, “Free.”

56

It was nine a.m. before Cherry and I rolled from bed, Cherry answering the strident phone. “Good morning,” she said. “Uh -huh. Not long, I expect. Take care.” She hung up.

“World’s briefest survey?” I asked.

“That was Lee. He wants to, uh, meet up for supper tonight or tomorrow, maybe turn it into drinks.”

“I’m up for it. I’m hoping for another hike with him.”

I had time remaining in my vacation and planned to spend the bulk of it with Cherry. She drove me to Road’s End for fresh clothes, passing Jeremy’s cabin. He was in his garden, pruning something or other. He looked up and grinned, making the OK sign. Cherry waved back and yelled a greeting.

“You still think he’s weird?” I asked as she pulled her head back into the vehicle.