"It fits what we know."

"But it doesn't explain why he didn't tell everybody what he'd suffered. When something outrageous happens to us, don't we want to tell others? Don't we want sympathy?"

"Unless the memory's so dark that we can't handle it."

"Especially if a different kind of outrage happened out there."

Reverend Benedict kept frowning. "What are you getting at?"

"Suppose Lester somehow got out of that room on his own. Or suppose the parents released him every so often as a reward for good behavior. Did Lester start the fire?"

"Start the… Lord have mercy."

"One way or another, whether they tried to rescue him or whether he got out on his own, did he trap his parents? Did he stand outside the burning house and listen with delight to their screams? Is that something he'd have wanted to describe to anyone? But that's not all that bothers me."

"Good God, you don't mean there's more."

"I'm from Colorado," I said.

The apparent non sequitur made Reverend Benedict shake his wizened head in confusion.

"Every once in a while, there's a story about somebody who went into the mountains and came across a rattlesnake," I said. "Not often. Maybe it's because the snakes have plenty of hiding places in the mountains, and they're not aggressive by nature- they prefer to stay away from us. But Indiana's a different matter. Lots of people. Dwindling farmland. Have you ever seen a rattlesnake around here?" "No." "Have you ever heard of anybody who has come across one?"

I asked.

"Not that I can think of," the reverend said. "A farmer perhaps. Rarely."

"Because the spreading population has driven them out."

"Presumably."

"Then how come there are dozens of rattlesnakes on the Dant property? In southern states, in Mississippi or Louisiana, for example, so many snakes might not seem unusual, but not around here. What are they doing on Orval's farm? How did they get there?"

"I can't imagine."

"Well, I can. Do you suppose that the Dants could have been practicing snake handling out there?"

The reverend paled. "As a religious exercise? Holding them in each hand? Letting them coil around their neck to prove their faith in God?"

"Exactly. If the snakes didn't bite, it meant that God intervened. It meant that God favored the Dants more than He did the people in town. If you've got a bunker mentality, if you've got a desperate 'us against them' attitude, maybe you want undeniable proof that you're right."

"It's the worst kind of presumption."

"And I suspect it destroyed them."

"I don't understand."

"You said that there were three Dant families when Lester was born. By the time of the fire, only one family-Orval, Eunice, and Lester-remained. You wondered if the other families might have moved away or had gotten deathly ill. But I'm wondering if the snakes didn't send the Dants a different message than they expected."

"You mean the snakes killed them?" the reverend murmured. "The Dants would never have gone to a doctor for help." "Dear Jesus."

"Snake handling would explain how so many got to be out there. The Dants brought them," I said. "What it doesn't explain is why the snakes remained. Why didn't they spread?"

"Perhaps they stayed where they belonged."

At first, I didn't understand. Then I nodded. "Maybe. That's a foul, rotten place out there, Reverend. I think you're right. If I were in your line of work, I'd say that the snakes are exactly where they feel at home."

Several bees buzzed my face. I motioned them away.

"Just one more question, and then I'll leave you alone," I said.

"Anything I can do to help."

"You mentioned that after Lester ran from your home, he showed up in a town a hundred miles east of here, across the border in Ohio."

"That's right."

"What did you say it was called?"

Part Five

1

Loganville was better than I expected: a picture-postcard town with a prosperous-looking main street and a welcoming park in front of its courthouse. I asked directions to the Unitarian church, whose minister I'd phoned to make an appointment. The portly, gray-haired man was stacking hymnals in the vestibule.

"Reverend Hanley?" I'd explained on the phone why I needed to talk with him. I showed him Lester Dant's photograph and asked about the teenager's arrival at the church nineteen years earlier. "I realize that's a long time ago, but Reverend Benedict seemed to think that you'd remember what happened back then."

"I certainly do. It's difficult to forget what happened that summer. That boy meant a great deal to Harold and Gladys. They wanted so much to become his guardians."

"Harold?"

"Reverend Benedict. Their greatest regret was not having children. How is Harold, by the way? I haven't seen him in at least a year."

"He's well enough to get down on his knees and trim roses."

Reverend Hanley chuckled. "No doubt saying a few prayers while he's at it." He studied Lester Dant's photograph and sobered. "It's hard to… Add time and a scar-he could be the same person. The intensity of his eyes is certainly the same. He might be able to help you find your wife and son, you said?"

"He's the one who kidnapped them."

The minister took a moment to recover from what I'd said. "I wish I could help you. But I didn't get to know him well. The person you need to talk to is Agnes Garner. She's the member of the congregation who took the most interest in him. And she's the one he most betrayed."

2

Climbing the porch steps at the address I'd been given, I found a woman in a wheelchair. From her pain-tightened face, I might have guessed that she was almost seventy, if Reverend Hanley hadn't already told me that she'd been thirty-eight when Lester Dant had come into her life nineteen years earlier. "Ms. Garner?"

"Mrs."

"Sorry. Reverend Hanley didn't tell me you were married."

"Widowed."

"He didn't tell me that, either."

"No reason he should have."

Her abrupt manner made me uncomfortable. "Thanks for agreeing to see me."

Her hair was gray. Her dress had a blue flower pattern. She had a cordless telephone on her lap. "You want to know about Lester Dant?"

"I'd appreciate any information you can give me."

"Reverend Hanley called and explained about your wife and son. Do you have a photograph of them?"

"Always." With longing, I pulled out my wallet.

She stared at the picture. Kate's father had taken it when we were visiting Kate's parents in Durango. The magnificent cliff ruins of Mesa Verde aren't far from there. We'd made a day trip of it. The photo showed Kate, Jason, and me standing in front of one of the half-collapsed dwellings. We wore jeans and T-shirts and were smiling toward the camera. In the photo's background, next to an old stone wall, a stooped shadow looked like a human being, but there wasn't anything to account for the shadow. Jason had insisted it was the ghost of a Native American who'd lived there hundreds of years earlier.

Ghosts. I didn't want to think I was looking at ghosts.

"A wonderful family."

"Thank you" was all I could say.

"There's so much sorrow in the world."

"Yes." Emotion tightened my throat. "Mrs. Garner, do you recognize this man?" I showed her the photo.

It pained her to look at him. She nodded and turned away. "It's Lester. I haven't thought about him in years. I try my hardest not to."

She's going to send me away, I thought.

"Do you honestly believe that what I tell you can help?" she asked.

"I don't know any other way."

"Hurt him."

"Excuse me?"

"We're supposed to forgive those who trespass against us, but I want you to hurt him."