Ken shook his head. He had a sinking feeling in his gut. The ground started to spin, so he closed his eyes. He had never been wearier.
“Maybe they’re still in the woods,” Tom suggested. “We should look. I keep imagining Cecil lying out there after having a heart attack or something. Last time I saw him, he was going off into the woods to piss.”
“Yeah,” Ken agreed, looking up again. “Terry, go grab some flashlights. We’re not leaving here until we find them. Tom, while he’s doing that, call their houses. See if they’re home, just in case they got a ride with someone else. And call Tina’s cell phone, too.”
“If she’s in the woods, it won’t work.”
“Call it anyway. It’s worth a try.”
“Whatever you say, Ken.”
“Hold on a minute,” Terry said. “Look, Ken. You’ve been up for how many hours?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do. You look like death warmed over, man. We’ve got a big day tomorrow and an even longer night, and you’re gonna have to be on top of your game. An operation this size—there’s going to be a million little things that need your attention tomorrow night. You need some rest, before shit starts catching up with you.”
“Like what?”
“Like that cop, for instance. Did you remember to call him back?”
“I did. Got his voice mail and left him a message.”
“And when did you finally remember?”
Ken paused. “After the walk-through tonight.”
“That’s my point. You’re tired, Ken, and you’re starting to slip. Now, I know you’re worried about Cecil. We all are. And we’re concerned about Russ and Tina, too, although I’m willing to bet they’re okay. It’s this place. These woods, and all the bullshit history that goes with them. It just has us a little spooked. Chances are they’re fine. But just in case, Tom and I will go look for them. You go home and get some sleep. You need it worse than we do.”
“Screw that,” Ken said. “I’m not going anywhere until we know what—”
“Go home and get some fucking sleep,” Terry ordered, raising his voice. Then he softened it again. “If we find anything—if something bad really has happened—I’ll call you right away. I promise. But as worn out as you are, you’ll be helping everybody a lot more if you just get some rest. We need you sharp, man. This is your show. Tom and me can handle this.”
“Damn straight,” Tom agreed. “In truth, I’m betting old Cecil is just lying up against some tree, drunk as a skunk or passed out. He’s always carrying that flask around with him. Drinking that frigging cheap-ass gin. Hell, could be Russ and Tina are out there with him.”
Ken rubbed his chin, lost in thought.
“Go home,” Terry urged him. “Please? You’re exhausted. We’ve got this.”
Ken hesitated. “You promise you’ll call me if something’s wrong?”
“I promise.” Terry nodded. “Have I ever lied to you?”
“Yeah. In the eleventh grade, when you told me you hadn’t slept with Alicia Hartlaub on prom night.”
Terry groaned. “You’re never gonna let me forget that one, are you?”
“Hell, no. She was my prom date, man.”
“And she was good.”
“Fucker.”
“Get going.” Terry punched Ken’s shoulder. “I’ll call you if something’s happened.”
“Okay. Good night. And you guys be careful.”
“We will,” Terry promised.
“See you tomorrow,” Tom said, waving.
Ken walked off to his pickup truck. They watched him go. His head hung low and his shoulders were slumped. He weaved back and forth slightly, as if he were drunk.
“Jesus,” Tom whispered. “You were right. He really is beat.”
Terry nodded. “His ass is dragging, all right.”
Ken’s headlights came on and the engine thrummed. They heard the distant strains of Jerry Reed belting out “Eastbound and Down,” the theme from Smokey and the Bandit. Ken sang along with him. Then Ken tooted his horn and pulled away. They gave him a final wave and then walked toward the storage trailers. As they crossed the field, Tom tried calling Cecil while Terry called Russ and Tina’s house.
“Anything?” Terry asked.
“No. If he’s there, he ain’t answering. How about you?”
“I got their answering machine. I didn’t leave a message, though. Don’t want to worry their kids just yet. Let’s check the trail first.”
“Glad I ate something earlier,” Tom said. “This might take a while.”
“Listen, did you take off work tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Well, shit, Tom! Why don’t you go on home, too? I can handle this by myself.”
“No, you can’t. And besides, I don’t have to be at my desk until nine. I got time.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. This might be a wild-goose chase, but I appreciate the help. Ghost Walk or not, those woods are kind of creepy after dark.”
“Terry, do you really think they’re okay?”
“Do you really think Cecil is laying out there drunk?”
“No. I wish I did, but I don’t. This just isn’t like him at all. I think something’s happened.”
“So do I. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s those kids going missing, or maybe I’m just tired, too. Or maybe it’s these fucking woods. But I’m starting to get a bad feeling.”
“Me, too,” Tom said. “You think maybe we should call the cops?”
“Not yet,” Terry said. “I mean, maybe we should. But I want to hold off. This time tomorrow night, we’ll be open. The last thing we need right now is law enforcement and search parties traipsing through the woods.”
“That’s pretty harsh.”
Terry shrugged. “I don’t like it either. Hell, Russ and Tina are friends of mine, and old Cecil seems like a good guy. But I’ve got other responsibilities to think about, too. Ken’s been my best friend since high school. A lot of folks drift apart after they graduate, but that never happened with us. He’s like a brother to me. This Ghost Walk means the world to him. It’s the first time I’ve seen him excited about anything since Deena died. If the cops suspect foul play, they could shut us down before we even open. That would kill him. Not to mention the negative publicity.”
“You don’t reckon the police think we had anything to do with this?”
“No,” Terry admitted. “Probably not. But you never know. And if those fucking reporters start sniffing around and asking lots of questions, Ken’s not going to be able to deal with it. Not right now, on top of everything else. He’s got other shit to worry about.”
“Not necessarily. He handled that girl from the newspaper pretty well.”
“Yeah, but she was just writing a fluff piece. Look, I don’t like it any more than you do. And you’re right. My gut tells me we should call the authorities right now. We probably should let someone know. It’s the right thing to do. But humor me just a little bit longer. Let’s have one last look ourselves. If we don’t find them, then we’ll call somebody. At least this way, Ken will get some sleep before we wake him up.”
“I guess you’re right.”
They retrieved two high-powered flashlights from the storage trailer. Terry grabbed a first-aid kit, as well.
“Think we’ll need that?” Tom asked.
“It’s just a precaution.”
As an afterthought, Terry stuffed two road flares into his jacket pocket.
“Another precaution?” Tom’s expression was grim.
“Yeah,” Terry said. “If they are hurt—and I hope to fucking hell that we’re wrong about that—and one of us has to come back up here to call 911, then the other one can light up these flares so the paramedics can find us easily. Especially if we’re off the trail.”
“That’s good thinking.”
“Let’s just hope we don’t need them.”
Terry and Tom began the long hike across the field, heading toward the forest. They zipped up their jackets against the late-night chill and slipped on their leather work gloves to keep their hands warm. The high weeds were wet with dew and their pants quickly became soaked below the knees. Neither spoke much. They were too tired, too cold. Too apprehensive. They tried once again to reassure each other that they were probably overreacting, but secretly, both men were becoming more and more convinced with each passing moment that something was seriously wrong. Their fear grew as they neared the forest, as if the darkness magnified it. Unlike the moonlit field, the woods were draped in shadow. They turned on their flashlights. The beams only penetrated a few yards beyond the trees. Somewhere in the branches overhead, a bird cried out. Both men jumped.