They drive past the sign, the road winding lazily into town. Unlike the other towns on the route, Ashford is still populated. The windows have glass in them. The streetlights work. The houses and shops along its main drag are dark, of course, but neon shines down from either side-shoe repairs and tanning salons-and the roads have been cleared recently. Two churches stand guard on either side of the main intersection, glowering down at the local Blockbuster. There's a park up ahead and Sue sees the statue exactly where she expects it, the man on his pedestal, except this time the figure is not only missing both arms, he's also minus a leg. He holds his head cocked proudly, like some flightless seabird.
"Isaac Hamilton," she says.
The cop behind the wheel looks back at her. "What?"
"That's him, isn't it?"
Neither of them replies, and that's all right. At this point she takes nothing for granted. As they roll through town she begins to feel something, light-headedness along with a flutter of nausea, and waits to see if it's going to get worse. But within seconds it's gone again. It's almost like a kind of mountain sickness, as if the air is thinner here but her body is learning to adapt more swiftly each time she passes through it.
At the Ashford Police Station the tow truck pulls her car around to the impound lot and the cruiser parks in front. The cops lead her up the steps and inside, bypassing the officer behind the booking desk, who buzzes them through. There's a TV and VCR under the desk, and Sue sees the booking sergeant is watching an old Clint Eastwood movie with the sound turned down. To her right she spots a bulletin board full of missing children posters.
They take her down a long white hallway that looks like it was recently constructed, past several darkened cubicles with computer monitors playing screensavers. At the end of the hall one of the cops opens a door for her, takes off her handcuffs, and ushers her inside, closing the door and locking it from the outside. Sue looks at her watch.
It's already four in the morning.
Veda, I've still got so far to go.
She looks around. The room is nothing but four white walls and a table with two chairs. She hears the climate control hum to life, pumping warm air into the room. It's already too hot in here. From the other side of the door she hears voices but can't tell what they're saying. Then it opens and the man with the beard walks in carrying a Styrofoam cup of coffee. Up close he looks even older than she thought, late sixties, past retirement age, dressed in a wrinkled white oxford with an ink stain on the breast pocket. He's got wintry gray eyes, caved-in cheeks, and the beginning of a gut sloping over his belt, and smells like cigarettes. He motions for her to sit and then sinks into the chair across from her and frowns.
"I'm Detective Yates, Ms. Young. We found the second body in your car. Want to tell me what's going on, or do you just want to call your lawyer?"
"You have to let me go."
He looks at her, raises an eyebrow.
"I can't-" She stops. He actually seems to be paying very close attention to what she's about to say and it makes it that much harder to talk. "There's no time to explain. If you let me go, I promise, I'll do whatever you want. I just have to get Veda back by tomorrow morning."
"Veda is your daughter?"
"She's been kidnapped. The kidnappers gave me very specific instructions." She waits for him to interject with a question but he waits her out with that same one-eyebrow-raised expression. "There was a dead body, the one in garbage bags. I had to go dig it up."
"From a grave?"
"No. It was buried under a bridge, back in Gray Haven."
Yates flinches at the name of the town. "And these kidnappers told you where to find it?"
For a half second Sue hesitates, not so much because she wants to tell him the truth but simply because it almost slips out on its own. Then she nods. "They told me on the phone that I needed to go get it and drive it through this route, and when I got there they'd give me my little girl back."
He wrinkles up his eyes at her. "When was all this?"
"Earlier tonight."
"And you didn't call the police?"
"He said not to."
Yates doesn't move, doesn't even look at her, processing all of this.
"What about the other body, the girl?"
"She's my nanny. They killed her after they kidnapped Veda, then they brought her body back and put it in my car." She forces herself to look into the impenetrable frown cut into the detective's face. "Look, I know how it sounds, but if I don't do exactly what they tell me, they'll kill her."
Yates looks at her for a while longer and stands up. He appears smaller now, shrunken. Something's been taken away from him. "Have you seen his face, any kind of a vehicle, anything like that?"
"It's a gray van. I don't know the license plate number."
He nods, once. "I'll be back."
"Wait, you can't leave me-"
The door swings shut and locks. Sue sits there and waits. And waits.