The Bodies Left Behind

clothes and then took off.”
    Dahl glanced at Graham, who closed his eyes in relief.
    “Sheriff, it’s Howie. I’m outside. I see two sets of footprints, women’s, I’d guess, they’re smaller, running to the woods behind the house. They go to a stream heading back to the Feldmans’. Then I lose them.”
    “Roger that.” Dahl put his arm around Graham’s massive shoulders, walked the man back to his squad car. “Listen, we know your wife got outa the car okay. If anybody knows how to stay alive, it’s her. I mean, I know that for a fact, Graham; I signed the payment requestfor her to go to all those training courses she takes. Hell, she takes so many of ’em they call her the Schoolmarm behind her back. Only don’t tell her I said that. Come on, I’ll drive you back to get your truck. You and me, we’re too old to be out jogging.”

    THE VAN’S AUTOMATIC lock clicked.
    Brynn turned toward the passenger door as it opened.
    Hart stood there, his gun forward, scanning carefully for threats. He saw her hands were taped and that the van was otherwise unoccupied. He climbed in.
    The door slammed behind him.
    He put his gun away and began searching through the mounds of junk on the floor and directly behind the front seats.
    Brynn said, “The girl back there, in the camper? The little girl?”
    “No. She’s all right.”
    “The fire?”
    “Diversion. The camper wasn’t burning.”
    Brynn looked. The smoke had cleared. He was telling the truth.
    Hart found some bleach, opened it and drenched his gloves and the keys, which were bloody. Thenpoured more in a tear in his leather jacket—the bullet hole from Michelle’s shot, it seemed. He exhaled slowly from the pain.
    The chlorine stench rose and stung her eyes. His too. They both blinked.
    “Druggies . . . Can’t be too safe nowadays.” It was like he was apologizing for the fumes. Hart looked her over, focusing on her vastly swollen cheek. He frowned.
    “Are you telling me the truth? Is she alive?” Her eyes bored into his. He gazed back.
    “The girl? Yes, I told you. The mother, if she was the mother, she’s not. The others aren’t either. . . . You’re interested, they left the kid in the camper when they thought it was burning. And ran outside. Maybe they just meant to fight. Or maybe they just meant to leave her to burn.”
    Brynn looked him over. A solid face, gray eyes, long hair, dark and dry. Skin rough. She’d had a bout of acne as a girl; it had tormented her. But the condition had cleared up as soon as she hit college. He wasn’t handsome, not really, but he had confidence in spades, an attraction all its own.
    “Brynn,” he mused.
    How’d he know her name? Had Gandy told him before he died? No. The men had been in the second house along Lake View Drive, the bedroom. He would have seen the name badge on her blouse.
    “Hart.”
    He nodded with an exasperated smile. “My friend was talking a bit much. Giving that away.”
    “What’s his name again?”
    The smile lingered.
    Brynn said, “Tell me where the girl is.”
    “In her room in the camper.” Hart continued, “She’s in bed with some doll named Chester. I found it for her. Or a rabbit. I don’t know.”
    “You left her there?” Brynn asked angrily. “She could look outside and see her mother’s body?”
    “No, my friend’s moving them all into the woods. I told the girl to stay put. Come morning this park’ll have more cops per square foot than the police academy. They’ll find her.”
    “She’s dead, isn’t she? You killed her too.”
    His face tightened. He was upset that she doubted him. “No, I didn’t kill her. She’s in bed with Chester. I told you.”
    Brynn decided that she believed him.
    “So what happened?” he asked. “You met that fellow in the woods and he was going to let you use his phone here. And you walked into a meth lab.”
    “I figured it out before. But not before enough.”
    “Smelled it, right? The ammonia?”
    “Yep. And the chlorine too. And burning propane.”
    “That’s how I found it,” Hart said. “I was down by that lake and could smell it down there.”
    “Wind must’ve shifted,” she said. “I didn’t smell it till we were almost here.”
    Hart stretched. “Phew. Quite a night. Bet you don’t see many of ’em like this in . . . what’s this county again?”
    “Kennesha.”
    He looked again at the wound on her face. He’d benoting how infected it was, how painful. She supposed he’d be