“Don’t kid around like that, okay?”

“I’m not entirely kidding.”

“Maybe they arescrewing around.”

“You said they wouldn’t.”

“Well, I don’t know, damn it.”

“Maybe we’d better go see.”

Jean wrinkled her nose.

“If they did run into trouble,” Larry said, “we aren’t making matters any better by procrastinating. They might need help.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Besides, their beers are getting warm.”

He picked up the bottle for Pete, stood, and waited for Jean. Then they walked to the end of the porch. Larry peered around the corner. The area alongside the building was clear, so he leaped down. Jean covered the mouth of Barbara’s bottle with her thumb and jumped.

“I don’t know about this,” she said.

“They can’t expect us to wait forever.”

Larry led the way, wanting to be a few strides ahead of Jean in case there really was trouble.

At times like this he wished his imagination would take a holiday. But it never left him alone. It was always busy churning up possibilities — most of them grim.

He pictured Pete and Barbara dead, of course. Slaughtered by the same pack of desert scavengers he’d dreamed up when he saw the overturned car.

Maybe Pete had been killed, Barbara abducted.

We’d have to go looking for her. Run back to the van first and get Pete’s gun.

Maybe they both got killed by a criminal using the old town as a hideout.

Or by an old lunatic on the lookout for claim jumpers.

Maybe they’ll just be gone. Vanished without a trace.

Pete has the keys to the van. We’d have to walk out of here.

He supposed the nearest town was Silver Junction.

God, it’d take hours to get there. And maybe someone would be after them, hunting them down.

“Better warn ‘em we’re coming,” Jean said.

He stopped near the corner of the building, looked back at her and shook his head. “If they ran into someone...”