LITMIR.BIZ

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from the back of his neck, hairs that should have been shaved away from his unruly beard.

      “The world’s changed,” I say, frowning as if I, too, am aghast at the horror being shown to us via the airwaves. The simpleton thinks I’m agreeing.

      “This used to be a safe place.”

      “Didn’t it?”

      “No more, I guess. Hey!” Crooking one fat finger, he signals to Nadine, the barkeep.

      “The usual, Dell?” she asks, sliding a coaster to him and pretending that his ordering her around doesn’t bother her. But she slides me a glance. We both know Dell Blight’s a pig.

      “Yeah. A Bud.”

      She’s already got a chilled glass under the spigot of a hidden keg. “This is just so horrible. What kind of monster would leave those women out in the forest?” Nadine asks, and looks at my near-empty shot glass. “Another?” She lifts her gaze a bit and our eyes hold for the briefest of seconds.

      I nod, return her smile, pretend I don’t really understand what she’s offering.

      “You’d think the sheriff could nail this fucker,” Big Belly Blight says with a knowing nod. He believes if he were the sheriff, he’d have “the fucker” behind bars already. “What the hell do we elect him for?”

      “Grayson’s doing a good job. And they might just catch the guy.” Nadine obviously isn’t in the mood to take any crap from the likes of Dell Blight. “This woman”—she hooks her thumb toward the television—“she didn’t die.”

      What? Every muscle in my body freezes. “Is that so?” I ask, as if I’m really concerned. Nadine must have her information wrong. The woman is dead. Hannah is dead. She has to be!

      “That’s what they’re sayin’,” Nadine assures both me and Dell. “I’d turn up the sound, but, you know, Farley, he likes the volume down so we can enjoy the music.” She makes a sour face. “It’s Christmas, y’know.”

      I nod, grinning, but deep down I feel not only fear but a little spark of anger. Nadine has to be wrong. Dead wrong. Calm down. Take control. I lift my glass to my lips, as if to sip, but instead take a deep breath, tamp down my fear.

      “I heard about the latest victim surviving. A bit ago, when I was out back on my break. It was all over the radio,” Nadine assures us with the eager anticipation of one imparting fresh gossip. “They found two women today. One’s dead, but this one, the one the news crew located, she’s alive. In some kind of coma, but alive.”

      “Will she make it?” I ask, feigning concern for the stupid bitch who was supposed to expire. What the hell was wrong with her? I left her to succumb to the elements, but, obviously Hannah is stronger than she looks. Fool. Damned superior fool. You let your ego get the better of your good sense.

      “Who knows if she’ll survive?” Nadine touches my hand then. A caress, where her thumb trails down the back of mine.

      “Two women? They found two? Holy cripes!” Beer Belly Dell shakes his balding head and the scent of fresh sawdust wafts my way. “I don’t get how this guy gets off. They say the women haven’t been raped. No sexual activity whatsoever. The guy’s probably a queer.”

      I smile, as if I agree, but the man’s an idiot. Of course an imbecile like Dell Blight can’t understand. His brain is probably the size of a walnut.

      But still I’m bothered. Is it possible? Is Hannah alive? Her living would make things difficult.

      “Nah,” Ole Olson, the round little guy in the dirty baseball cap sitting next to Dell, pipes up. “He ain’t no queer. If he was, he’d be haulin’ men up there and tyin’ ’em up and doin’ weird shit to ’em. More’n likely he got no balls at all.”

      “What do y’mean, no balls? Like a woman?”

      “Like no balls. He’s been neutered, he’s…he’s one of them…them…” Ole snaps his thick fingers. “One of them U-nuts.”

      “U-nuts?” Dell repeats with a snort, then takes a long drink. “You mean like U-bolts?”

      “I think he means eunuch,” I say, then wish I hadn’t even opened my mouth. What would these cretins know?

      “What the hell is a fuckin’ U-nick?” Dell’s face is screwed up like he’d just smelled week-old dead fish.

      “That’s just it, they can’t fuck cuz they got no balls,” Ole says.

      “Enough!” Nadine shakes her head as she scoops up a couple of empty glasses and drops them into a sink. Quick as a rattler striking, she slides the tips across the bar with her polished fingernails and stuffs the bills into the pocket of her apron. She glances up at the television screen, where a reporter is standing in front of the local hospital.

      “I hope she survives,” she whispers.

      “Who?” Ole, true to character, missed a vital part of the earlier conversation.

      “The woman they found in the forest, the one who didn’t die.” Nadine is starting to get pissed.

      “She’s seen that psycho,” Ole says, catching on.

      I feel an unlikely chill. My face was exposed. She knows my touch, can recognize me.

      “Yep. She’ll nail his ass in court.” Nadine nods, stiff red-blond hair unmoving.

      Dell snorts before draining his glass and wiggling the empty as a signal for another. “He’s got to be caught first, and my money says that Sheriff Numb-Nuts won’t come close.”

      I take a drink to hide my smile.

      “Oh, Grayson will catch him all right.” Coming to Grayson’s defense, Nadine looks to me for support.

      I lift a noncommittal shoulder that says Maybe, though I think Don’t count on it.

      “He will!” Nadine is certain as she snaps a clean towel from a stack under the counter. “You just wait and see.” She swabs the bar with a vengeance.

      “Humph. Not by countin’ on the likes of crazy Ivor Hicks. Shit, that nutcase found a body and claimed the aliens sent him there,” Ole says.

      “That Crypton, he’s one smart sergeant,” Dell corrects.

      “It’s Crytor, moron. And he’s a fuckin’ general. Get it right. An orange reptile and a fuckin’ general.”

      They both laugh uproariously.

      “The old man hallucinates,” Nadine says quickly, and looks at me, embarrassed. She doesn’t like the way the conversation has turned. The crazy old man’s a regular, too, when he’s not on the wagon. “Give Ivor a break, will ya? And for God’s sake, have some faith in Sheriff Grayson. He’s doing a great job.”

      I finish the first drink and wait as she places a fresh glass and coaster in front of me.

      “Great job, my ass.” Dell isn’t cutting Grayson any breaks. “Why hasn’t this piece of shit been brought in? Huh? How hard could it be to track a killer in the goddamned snow? What the hell are those tracking dogs for? Hell, do you know what it costs for one of them? Sheeeeiiiiit.”

      “Grayson will get the guy,” Nadine insists, with a look at me, as if she and I, the two of us, have a secret. As if we co-conspirators realize that Big Belly is an oaf and we, of far superior intellect, have the good sense to trust Sheriff Dan Grayson.

      “What’s he waitin’ for?” Big Belly Dell is staring up at the television, where the cameraman in the chopper zooms in on Grayson’s worried, hard face.

      “Grayson’s an asshole,” a voice from my other side affirms. “I went to school with him. He don’t know up from damned sideways. Hey, Nadine, how about another?”

      “Whiskey sour is it, Ed?” she asks,

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