Nicholas drew in a breath. He's heading for the lake. He scooted after the Jimmy, awed that such a frail being could move so quickly. As he neared the old man, he heard Jimmy's voice carried through the air.

"Need to get the chronicle. By G.o.d, I will. The miner..." the words faded, then he heard, "the chronicle."

What did that mean?

Nicholas ran toward the car shelter, stopping behind a Jeep. By now Jimmy was on the dock. He stopped at a pylon where a metal canoe was tied up.

He can't go by himself!

Nicholas stepped around the front of the Jeep and was about to call out when he saw something that froze him in his tracks.

His father was coming across the road, his big frame looming in the heat waves. Behind his father, his mother plodded, her face a dull canvas. Nicholas shrunk back, terror shooting through his veins like acid. What're they doing here? He clamped his mouth shut. What's he going to say when he sees me? He watched as his father plodded onto the dock, walking as if his legs were sticks. His mother stood at the edge of the dock, watching. Nicholas scowled. Something was wrong. They were his parents, but at the same time, not. His father walked like a zombie, focused straight ahead, unaware of his surroundings. His mother was the same way.

Nicholas crouched down and watched, still too scared to call out to his father. Gino approached Jimmy. He spoke and Nicholas heard it, each word a stab of fear in his chest.

"Are you the one who preaches?" Gino intoned dully.

Jimmy took a step back, nearly tripping on the uneven boarding. "You leave me be." His voice quivered.

"Preacher," Gino said, raising a hand. "It is time."

"Preacher?" Jimmy asked, studying Gino. "Why do you need a preacher?"

Gino c.o.c.ked his head to the side, as if he was receiving an ethereal message. "You have the words."

"What? The Scriptures?"

"For the release."

"No!" Jimmy said, thrusting a fist at Gino. "I know about the chronicle. I'll get it this time." He took a couple of shaky steps toward Gino, as if his weak frame could pose a threat to the much bigger man.

"It is time," Gino repeated. Nicholas watched his father's eyes thin with dreadful menace. He'd seen it a thousand times, the danger as real now as ever. He trembled violently as Gino went for the old man.

"You won't get me," Jimmy said hoa.r.s.ely. The two wrestled. Nicholas was amazed at the old man's strength. Then he heard a snap, like a tree branch breaking. Jimmy cried out. He broke loose from Gino, clutching at his right arm, where a white bone stuck out from his torn shirtsleeve. Gino grabbed at him, but Jimmy stepped out of reach.

"Come," Gino said, unfazed by the battle.

Jimmy's mouth twisted in a grimace of pain. "No! Oh Lord, I can't get to the chronicle."

Gino focused his gaze on Jimmy. He's going to hypnotize him! Nicholas thought. He wanted to yell, to stop his father from hurting Jimmy, but he was terrified.

Jimmy put a hand up to Gino. "You won't get me! Not now, not ever! I'll never become one of you."

Gino approached Jimmy again. The old man tottered toward the edge of the dock. Nicholas stared in horror as Jimmy stepped right off and into the lake.

Gino's body went rigid. He went to the edge of the dock and watched, but did nothing. Nicholas couldn't hear anything, no splashing, no cry for help.

He silently screamed, then bent down and searched the ground. His hands closed on a small rock. He stood and hurled it across the road. The rock thudded on the porch of the cafe.

Gino turned at the sound. Nicholas ducked behind the Jeep and peered around. He saw his father's eyes. Even at the distance, the hollow holes blazed with hatred. Nicholas shook with realization. That was his father's body. But whatever it was that had taken over Ed Miller, Samuel Friedman, and Mick, that force that he'd seen out in the woods, had taken his parents as well.

Fear immobilized Nicholas. He waited behind the Jeep, terrified that his father would see him.

Gino walked back up the dock, trudging between the cafe and the art gallery. Mary followed, her walk as listless as his. They soon vanished behind the buildings.

Nicholas finally ran over to the dock, suppressing a shriek as he went. Jimmy floated facedown near a canoe, arms bobbing at his sides, the right one crooked at an odd angle. Nicholas didn't have to see Jimmy's face to know he was dead.

CHAPTER 49.

"Where's that kid?" Myrtle asked Boo as she came out of the back room of the store. She came around the shelves and noticed that Jimmy was gone, too. "Oh no," she gasped. The store was small enough that she knew they weren't hiding somewhere. Dread gripped her as she ran out the front door.

She spied Nicholas and Jimmy on the dock. She knew instantly that something was wrong. The boy's hair and clothes were dripping wet, and he was staring down at Jimmy's p.r.o.ne body.

"Oh no!" she screamed as she flew off the porch. She bolted down the dock, where Nicholas was on his knees near Jimmy. The old man's waterlogged clothes stuck to him like tack paper, his face pale blue to match his wet jeans.

"What happened?" she asked Nicholas.

"I pulled him out." He nodded, his expression dazed. She felt for a pulse on Jimmy's scrawny wrist. Nothing. She checked the carotid artery. Still nothing. She started CPR, but gave up after a few moments.

"It's no use. He's gone." She reached up and closed Jimmy's eyelids. "Oh dear Lord."

"I followed him out," Nicholas mumbled.

"It can't be," Myrtle said, straining for composure. "I went to the back of the store for a few minutes. I didn't think Jimmy would go anywhere."

Nicholas remained mute.

"Come on, let's go over here." Myrtle led Nicholas away, off the dock and focused away from the body. "What happened?"

"He fell in the lake."

Myrtle grabbed him by the shoulders. "What happened before that? Did someone come for him?"

Nicholas nodded. "My father."

"What did your father say?"

Before he could answer, she heard a shout.

"What's going on?" They whirled around at the question and saw Anna and Rory running down the road. "What're you doing out here?" Anna stopped by them, out of breath. Her eyes strayed to the dock and the body of her father. "Is that " Her voice trailed off. Rory came up beside her, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Myrtle immediately noticed dark stains on his shirt, like oil mixed with dirt. "Dad?" Anna stammered.

"Anna, I'm sorry " Myrtle didn't get to finish. Anna screamed and ran down the dock before anyone could stop her. Myrtle ran after her, with Rory following. She was on her knees, bent over Jimmy's body. She touched his forehead, brushing strands of his hair out of his face. A single teardrop rolled down her cheek, but Myrtle was surprised at how calm she appeared.

"What happened?" Anna asked.

"He fell in," Myrtle said. "He was trying to escape from Nicholas' father "

"He's one of them now," Nicholas said, his voice flat.

"Go get a blanket. There's one in the storeroom in back of the store," Myrtle whispered to Nicholas. He stared at Anna for a second, then darted away.

Anna let out a sob while the others remained silent.

"Everything's okay now, Dad," she finally said, so softly Myrtle barely heard her. "You're home now." She looked up. "He's where he wants to be, in heaven." Her voice warbled, and now more tears came.

Myrtle stifled a sniffle and nodded. There was nothing to say. She stepped away and let Anna have a moment with her father. Nicholas returned with a worn blanket and handed it to Myrtle. She bent down and helped Anna cover Jimmy's body. Then Anna stood up, and Myrtle guided her back off the dock, where the others huddled like mourners at a funeral. Rory put his arm around Anna's shoulder and she finally broke down, tenderly and quietly.

"Should we call an ambulance?" Myrtle asked, trying to be matter-of-fact. It was then she noticed brown streaks on Rory's arm, as if he'd tried to wash something off with dirt, unsuccessfully.

"What happened to you?" she asked him.

Rory drew his hand away from Anna and put it behind his back. "We ran into some trouble." He briefly told her what happened.

Myrtle's hand shook as she covered her mouth. "So it's true?"

He bent his head down. "It looks like it."

"What do we do? Call the sheriff?"

"And tell him what?" Rory asked. "That some spook killed Jimmy? And what do we tell him about the deputy?"

Myrtle shrugged. "That Jimmy's death was an accident. And you didn't kill the deputy, so we'll explain that to him."

Anna took a deep breath and stood up straight. "We'll report Dad's death," her voice faltered, but then she controlled herself. "Once he's up here, we'll tell him exactly what happened. And we tell him what we know."

"He'll never believe it," Myrtle gasped.

"We'll make him believe." With that, Anna marched with determination off toward the store. Rory went after her, and Myrtle noticed his arms again. They were covered in blood.

What happened out there, she thought. And was it coming for them?

CHAPTER 50.

The squad car radio squawked in the background. The mountains reflected off of the lake at Barker Dam, postcard perfect, but Clinton Truitt didn't notice either thing. He drove up Highway 119, his hands clenched tightly to the wheel, his mind focused elsewhere. Anna Holmes had reported an accident in Taylor Crossing. Apparently, her father had fallen in the lake and drowned.

Clinton drove through the roundabout at the main intersection in Nederland and headed up Highway 72. Cars ahead slowed down, wary of a law enforcement vehicle driving behind them. No one wanted a ticket for speeding. He thumped impatiently on the wheel, resisting the urge to turn on his emergency lights and force the cars to the side of the road so he could pa.s.s.

Anxiety made his stomach wrench. Something awful was happening in Taylor Crossing. First the two boys going missing, then Nicholas shows up terrorized. Plus all the other missing people: Ed Miller, Samuel Friedman, and the two hikers. And just before he'd left the office, there'd been another call about two more hikers missing since yesterday.

He ran a hand over his crew cut. He had a deputy go to Boulder to talk with the families of the missing persons. But he knew what would happen. They would organize another volunteer posse. They'd deal with frantic relatives. It was necessary, but draining. And he'd already been through this with the boys. Looks like they'd be searching for a couple more.

The muscles in his jaw tensed into a hard knot as he continued to mull. One or two people missing over the course of the summer, that was normal. Sad, but not unexpected. Some greenhorn always seemed to defy mountain logic and go off into the woods unprepared, only to find out the hard way how easy it was to get lost.

One or two a summer. Not several in a less than a week. That hardly happened ever.

Beads of sweat speckled his forehead as he turned off onto the dirt road that led to the Crossing. One drop streaked down his cheek. He reached to turn the air conditioner higher. The k.n.o.b was all the way up, cool air blasting the front seat. He shrugged and wiped his brow, squinting into the late afternoon sun.

Who was lurking in the mountains around the Crossing? How many more lives would be taken before he was caught? Clinton didn't have an answer. As he drove over the old bridge into town, he couldn't shake a lightheaded sensation, as if he had just pa.s.sed through an invisible barrier. One that took him into another world, another time.

He parked in front of the general store, got out, and was immediately met by the sweltering heat. He wished for a cool rain shower to clear his fuddled brain. He stood for a minute surveying the empty road. He couldn't shake an eerie feeling.

The Crossing had the smell of death. But something much more sinister, too.

Rory came out of the store. "He's over here," he said quietly. He led Clinton onto the dock where Jimmy's body lay.

"What happened?"

Rory hesitated. "I can explain later..." his voiced trailed off.

"What do you mean? Did he fall in?"

"Yes, but..."

"But what?" Clinton stared hard at Rory.

Rory shrugged.

"I've called a unit up here to remove the body," Clinton said, trying to be matter-of-fact. "But I want some answers." It was then he noticed how disheveled Rory looked. He was covered in dirt and had dark spots on his shirt.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

Rory stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It's nothing."

"Did you get hurt?" Clinton wasn't stupid; it was dried blood on Rory's shirt.

"No. I'm fine, really."

Clinton studied him. Rory tried to appear casual, but the hard line of his jaw and his furtive eyes betrayed him. Clinton had seen the look before, from people whose lives had suddenly changed in a dark and unalterable way. He's just been through something awful, Clinton thought, knowing instantly that it would connect to the other things that were happening in the Crossing.

"Then why are you covered in blood?"

Rory clamped his jaw shut and remained quiet. Clinton squinted hard at him, then shifted his gaze back to Jimmy's covered body. He bent down and lifted the blanket. There didn't appear to be any sign of violent injury. He stood up and let his gaze rest again on Rory. "What's going on?"