Following the capillary bed of secondary roads outlined on the map, Sue finds herself headed down yet another nameless stretch of blacktop. It's empty, but it's been plowed recently, and she's able to cruise along at a bracing seventy with decent visibility. Once again the mindlessness of driving becomes a tonic. There's no sign of the van or any other traffic. There is nothing but darkness and the broken yellow line receding in her headlights.
She's ten miles from Stoneview when her phone starts beeping.
For the first time she's seized by the inexplicable compulsion not to answer it. She knows that it's him, the voice of the man who has her daughter, and she has to answer. Still she lets it ring half a dozen times before finally forcing her hand to pick it up and hit theTALK button.
"Hello?"
The voice is right there in her ear, a moist, heavy murmur.
"Susan, are you beginning to understand what's happening here?"
"What?"
"The changes. Do you feel the changes?"
"What changes?"
The voice sighs. "That's what I was afraid of. You need to be punished again, Susan. It will open your eyes."
"No, wait."No more punishment, she wants to cry. "What do you want? Just tell me."
"I want to see you."
"What?"
"I want to look at you, Susan. I want you to look at yourself."
"How…?" she starts.
"When you get to Stoneview, there's a place called Babe's. You'll find it."
"Please, don't-" she stops herself, realizing that he is still listening and probably enjoying hearing her beg, maybe that's the whole point to begin with. So instead she says, "Who was Isaac Hamilton?"
"Ah." He sounds pleased. "Youare beginning to understand. Just when I was ready to throw you to the wolves."
"Is his statue in all the towns along the route?"
"Do you want to see your little girl in the morning, Susan?"
"Yes."
"Babe's, Susan. I'll see you there."
He hangs up before she can say anything else.
She puts the phone down, still cruising along at seventy, seventy-five. She doesn't know what else to do except follow the map. She thinks about Isaac Hamilton. The name has an enchantment on it. It has a kind of power, like a key dangling from a chain, a key that might open a box-or a cage.
Sure enough, six miles later, she sees the sign coming up: