8456893456983

John pointed. “Freeman town line.” He gave Dan a small, tight smile. “I can’t completely believe
I’m doing this. What are you going to think if that ethanol plant is gone? If it’s been torn down since
Google Earth snapped its picture, and planted over with corn?”
“It’ll still be there,” Dan said.
8
And so it was: a series of soot-gray concrete blocks roofed in rusty corrugated metal. One smokestack
still stood; two others had fallen and lay on the ground like broken snakes. The windows had been
smashed and the walls were covered in blotchy spray-paint graffiti that would have been laughed at by
the pro taggers in any big city. A potholed service road split off from the two-lane, ending in a
parking lot that had sprouted with errant seed corn. The water tower Abra had seen stood nearby,
rearing against the horizon like an H. G. Wells Martian war machine. FREEMAN, IOWA was
printed on the side. The shed with the broken roof was also present and accounted for.
“Satisfied?” Dan asked. They had slowed to a crawl. “Factory, water tower, shed, No Trespassing
sign. All just like she said it would be.”
John pointed to the rusty gate at the end of the service road. “What if that’s locked? I haven’t
climbed a chainlink fence since I was in junior high.”
“It wasn’t locked when killers brought that kid here, or Abra would have said.”
“Are you sure of that?”
A farm truck was coming the other way. Dan sped up a little and lifted a hand as they passed. The
guy behind the wheel—green John Deere cap, sunglasses, bib overalls—raised his in return but hardly
glanced at them. That was a good thing.
“I asked if—”
“I know what you asked,” Dan said. “If it’s locked, we’ll deal with it. Somehow. Now let’s go back
to that motel and check in. I’m whipped.”
9
While John got adjoining rooms at the Holiday Inn—paying cash—Dan sought out the Adair True
Value Hardware. He bought a spade, a rake, two hoes, a garden trowel, two pairs of gloves, and a
duffel to hold his new purchases. The only tool he actually wanted was the spade, but it seemed best to
buy in bulk.
“What brings you to Adair, may I ask?” the clerk asked as he rang up Dan’s stuff.
“Just passing through. My sister’s in Des Moines, and she’s got quite the garden patch. She
probably owns most of this stuff, but presents always seem to improve her hospitality.”
“I hear that, brother. And she’ll thank you for this short-handle hoe. No tool comes in handier, and
most amateur gardeners never think to get one. We take MasterCard, Visa—”
“I think I’ll give the plastic a rest,” Dan said, taking out his wallet. “Just give me a receipt for
Uncle Sugar.”
“You bet. And if you give me your name and address—or your sister’s—we’ll send our catalogue.”
“You know what, I’m going to pass on that today,” Dan said, and put a little fan of twenties on the
counter.
10