"Thanks," said Reuben as he climbed on his bike and put his helmet and old-fashioned goggles back on.

"What if we find Oliver at the same time that Knox does?" asked Caleb.

"Then we persuade him to let Oliver go with us," Reuben said.

"He's not going to do that, Reuben."

"He will if we're really persuasive."

"We can't take out a fed," Caleb said. "Even new testosterone Caleb draws the line at that."

"Caleb," Annabelle said, "let's worry about that only if we have to. Right now, all I want is to find Oliver. And the longer we stand around here the better the chances are that Knox will find him first."

Reuben kick-started the Indian and the engine roared to life. He gave them a little salute, glanced at one of the maps and took off heading east.

Annabelle started to climb in the driver's seat of the van but Caleb stopped her. "I'll drive," he said, hopping in and putting the keys in the ignition.

"Why?"

"You don't know how to handle curves. Too herky-jerky. That's why I was feeling sick."

"Really? What if the time comes where we need to drive really fast, Caleb?"

"Get in!"

"What?"

Caleb fired up the van and Annabelle had to hustle around and jump in before he roared off. He accelerated so fast she tumbled into the backseat.

"What the hell are you doing?" she cried out as she struggled back up.

"When the time comes, I'm your wheelman."

She managed to clamber into the front seat and quickly buckled up as he took one curve and then the next at almost sixty miles an hour. When she glanced over she noted how professionally he was maneuvering the steering wheel and then realized how smoothly the bulky van, which was clearly not designed for this sort of terrain, was handling the road.

"Caleb, how are you doing that?"

"I can drive, okay? You should have seen me at a guy named Tyler Reinke's house. I took the Nova airborne."

"I can see that you can drive. But how?"

He sighed. "Why do you think I kept that crappy Nova all these years?"

"I don't know. I just thought you were either cheap or had no taste. Or both."

"Well, I am cheap, but I actually do have taste. No, it was about my father."

"What are you talking about?"

"My dad was a stock car driver."

"No way!"

"After he retired from racing he worked on a NASCAR pit crew for Richard Petty."

"King Richard?"

Caleb nodded. "I was his protégé."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"You were Richard Petty's protégé? Get out of here."

"Annabelle, I started racing Go-Karts when I was six. Then I moved up to dirt track racing, and then on to ARCA where I was the top rookie. After that I finished number one in the Late Model Sportsman Series, which is like the junior circuit for NASCAR. I was just about ready to launch my career in the big leagues with Petty's help. I was going to be the number two driver on Billy Nelson's Chevy team out of Charlotte. They'd won the Winston Cup three years in a row and Bobby Mallard, their number one driver and a four-time Daytona 500 winner, was going to be my mentor. It was all set up, and then it all went to hell."

"What happened?"

"I was doing a qualifying lap at Darlington. Some call it the 'paper clip' because it's shaped like one. Others refer to it as the 'Lady in Black.' That's what it was for me."

"Why, what happened?"

Caleb's features turned somber. "The Lady in Black is very unforgiving. I came out of turn number four at 185 miles an hour, let my wheel drift and the car bumped the wall. I left half my paint on the wall, the 'Darlington Stripe' they call it. Then my right front tire blew and I was completely out of control. This was before the roof flaps era so my car flipped over and then went airborne. There are two interior walls at Darlington, the inside and pit walls. I cleared them both and slid right into a pit crew."

"Oh my God."

"My pit crew," Caleb said solemnly. "My personal pit crew."

Annabelle gasped. "It wasn't your father, was it?"

Caleb turned to look at her, his eyes watery. "I walked away from the crash with a few bumps and bruises, but he was in the hospital for months before finally pulling through. But after that, I couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't shift a gear, couldn't mash an accelerator, couldn't even slide in the car. So I just walked away from it all. Turned my life around. Went from speed to being a librarian. As far away as I could get from that world. But I kept the Nova. It was one of the first cars I ever raced in. I painted it that shitty gray to cover up the numbers and stripes. The number twenty-two car, Double Deuces, they called me. It didn't look like much but under the hood it had muscle, that car. Dual carbs, overhead cam, four hundred-plus horses and a gas pedal that never let me down. Whenever I needed to bring it, it was there. Years ago, late at night, I used to run it on straightaways when Centreville was still cow country. Got it up to 150 more than once. Those were the days."

"Caleb, I'm so sorry." She gently squeezed his shoulder.

A few moments of silence passed.

"Hey, I really got you, didn't I?"

She glanced back over at him. He was smiling broadly.

"Come on, Richard Petty's protégé? Me?"

"You made that all up? You shit!" She smacked him on the shoulder hard. But there was admiration in her features.

"What? You think you're the only one who can lie really well? I've spent my adult life surrounded by stories at the library, Annabelle. I can 'fiction' with the best of them."

"That still doesn't explain how you can drive like this."

"I grew up on the side of a mountain in Pennsylvania. First thing I ever drove was a Bobcat down a dirt road that would make this stretch of gravel look like the Autobahn." He paused. "And I did do some stock car racing when I turned eighteen. Mostly junk on dirt tracks. But after my third near-fatal accident, I decided to go into library science. But I'm still a big NASCAR fan."

"Caleb, I'm seeing a totally new side to you."

"Yes, well, everyone has their secrets."

"The Camel Club more than most, I'm finding."

CHAPTER 53

STONE OPENED HIS EYES and felt rather than saw the people around him.

"Ben?"

He turned to the right and focused on Abby standing there, holding his hand. He gazed over her shoulder and realized he was in a hospital room.

"What the hell happened?" he said, trying to rise up.

Abby and someone else gently pushed him back down.

"Just take it easy, Ben."

This was Tyree, who was standing on the other side of the bed.

Stone leaned back against the pillow. "What happened?" he said again.

"What do you remember?" Abby asked.

"Driving Willie home and then waking up here."

"It blew up," Tyree said quietly. "His trailer, I mean. It blew up."

"Willie? Bob? He was there too."

Abby gripped his hand. "They're both dead." Her voice broke as she said this.

"How did it happen?"

"They think it was his propane tank. Only thing that could've blown like that," Tyree said. "Another few feet and you would've been gone too. You're lucky you were standing on the other side of that truck. It took most of the blast instead of you."

Stone thought for a moment. "I remember something falling right next to me."

Abby and Tyree exchanged glances. "Just some debris," she said quickly.

"How did the gas thing happen?"

"I'm checking that out right now," said Tyree firmly. "He apparently had a cookstove and some propane tanks in his trailer along with a lot of ammo."

"I don't care about that. It can't be an accident," said Stone. "It can't be."

"I'm inclined to agree with you," said the sheriff. "I just need some proof."