“What the hell happened to you?” Ralph Keaton shouted at him, all red in the face.

“I’m a clumsy old geek,” Hunker said again. “I wish Arlene were still alive. She’d massage me and make me some chicken soup. My shoulder hurts.”

Quinlan patted his arm. “Sally and I will drop by Doc Spiver’s house and tell him to come over here, all right? Take two aspirin. He shouldn’t be long.”

“Naw, don’t do that,” Ralph Keaton said. “No problem. Hunker here is just whining.”

“It’s no problem,” Sally said. “We were going to walk by his house anyway.”

“Well, all right, then,” Hunker said and let his friends lower him back into his chair. He was rubbing his shoulder.

“Yes, we’ll get Doc Spiver,” Quinlan said. He shook open the umbrella and escorted Sally out of the general store. He paused when he heard the old men talking quietly. He heard Purn Davies say, “Why the hell shouldn’t they go to Doc’s house? You got a problem with that, Ralph? Hunker doesn’t, and he’s right. Listen to me, it don’t matter.”

“Yeah,” Gus Eisner said. “I don’t think Hunker could make it over there, now could he?”

“Probably wouldn’t be smart,” Purn Davies said slowly. “No, let Quinlan and Sally go. Yeah, that’s best.”

The rain had become a miserable drizzle, chilling them to the bone. He said, “None of them is a very good liar. I wonder what all that talk of theirs meant?”

All that he was implying blossomed in her mind, and she felt more than the chill, damp air engulfing her. “I can’t believe what you’re suggesting, James.”

He shrugged. “I guess I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget it, Sally.”

She couldn’t, of course. “They’re old. If they do remember the Jensens, it’s just that they’re afraid to admit it. As for the other, it was harmless.”

“Could be,” James said.

They walked in silence to Doc Spiver’s house, and Quinlan knocked on the freshly painted white door. Even in the dull morning light, the house looked well cared for. Just like all the other houses in this bloody little town.

No answer.

Quinlan knocked again, calling out, “Doc Spiver? It’s Quinlan. It’s about Hunker Dawson. He fell and hurt his shoulder.”

No answer.

Sally felt something hard and dark creep over her. “He must be out with someone else,” she said, but she was shivering.

Quinlan turned the doorknob. To his surprise it wasn’t locked. “Let’s see,” he said and pushed the door open. The house was warm, the furnace going full blast.

There were no lights on, and there should have been, what with all the dull gray outside. It was just as gray inside the house, the corners just as shadowy, as it was outdoors.

“Doc Spiver?”

Suddenly James turned, took her by the shoulders, and said, “I want you to stay here in the hallway, Sally. Don’t budge.”

She just smiled up at him. “I’ll look in the living room and dining room. Why don’t you check upstairs? He’s just not here, James.”

“Probably not.” He turned and headed up the stairs. Sally felt the impact of the heat. It was hotter now, almost burning, making her mouth dry. She quickly switched on the hallway light. Odd, but it didn’t help. It was still too dark in here. Everything was so still, so motionless. There didn’t seem to be any air. She tried to draw in a deep breath but couldn’t. She looked at the arch that led into the living room.

Suddenly she didn’t want to go in there. But she forced herself to take one step at a time. She wished James were right beside her, talking to her, dispelling the horrible stillness. For God’s sake, the old man just wasn’t here, that was all.

She tried to take another deep breath. She took another step. She stood in the open archway. The living room was just as dim and gray as the hallway. She quickly switched on the overhead lights. She saw the rich Bokhara carpet, the Tiffany lamp that Doc Spiver had knocked over because he hadn’t seen it. It wasn’t broken or cracked, as far as she could tell. She took a step into the living room.

“Doc Spiver? Are you here?”

There was no answer.

She looked around, not wanting to go further, to take one more step into that room. She saw a blur, something moving quickly. She heard a loud thump on the hardwood floor, then the raucous sound of a rocking chair. There was a loud, indignant meow, and a huge gray cat leaped off the back of the sofa to land at her feet. Sally shrieked. Then she laughed, a horrible laugh that made her sound crazy. “Good kitty,” she said, her voice so thin she was surprised she could breathe. The cat skittered away.