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But so was Abra, which kind of made them even.
“I have one really important question, dear,” Rose said pleasantly.
Abra almost asked what it was, then remembered her uncle’s advice. Her real uncle. One question,
right. Which would lead to another . . . and another . . . and another.
“Choke on it,” she said, and hung up. Her hands began to tremble. Then her legs and arms and
shoulders.
“Abra?” Mom. Calling from the foot of the stairs. She feels it. Just a little, but she does feel it. Is that a
mom thing or a shining thing? “Honey, are you okay?”
“Fine, Mom! Getting ready for bed!”
“Ten minutes, then we’re coming up for kisses. Be in your PJs.”
“I will.”
If they knew who I was just talking to, Abra thought. But they didn’t. They only thought they knew
what was going on. She was here in her bedroom, every door and window in the house was locked, and
they believed that made her safe. Even her father, who had seen the True Knot in action.
But Dan knew. She closed her eyes and reached out to him.
9
Dan and Billy were under another motel canopy. And still nothing from Abra. That was bad.
“Come on, chief,” Billy said. “Let’s get you inside and—”
Then she was there. Thank God.
“Hush a minute,” Dan said, and listened. Two minutes later he turned to Billy, who thought the
smile on his face finally made him look like Dan Torrance again.
“Was it her?”
“Yes.”
“How’d it go?”
“Abra says it went fine. We’re in business.”
“No questions about me?”
“Just which side of the family you were on. Listen, Billy, the uncle thing was a bit of a mistake.
You’re way too old to be Lucy’s or David’s brother. When we stop tomorrow to do our errand, you
need to buy sunglasses. Big ones. And keep that ball cap of yours jammed down all the way to your
ears, so your hair doesn’t show.”
“Maybe I should get some Just For Men, while I’m at it.”
“Don’t sass me, you old fart.”
That made Billy grin. “Let’s get registered and get some food. You look better. Like you could
actually eat.”
“Soup,” Dan said. “No sense pressing my luck.”
“Soup. Right.”
He ate it all. Slowly. And—reminding himself that this would be over one way or the other in less
than twenty-four hours—he managed to keep it down. They dined in Billy’s room and when he was
finally finished, Dan stretched out on the carpet. It eased the pain in his gut a little.
“What’s that?” Billy asked. “Some kind of yogi shit?”
“Exactly. I learned it watching Yogi Bear cartoons. Run it down for me again.”
“I got it, chief, don’t worry. Now you’re starting to sound like Casey Kingsley.”
“A scary thought. Now run it down again.”