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As he dropped the Exmoor postcard into the letter box, he noticed that the collection time was a mere half hour away. Avery was not crazy; he knew it didn’t mean God was on his side. But he also knew it meant God really didn’t give a shit one way or the other.

When he was a reasonable distance from the village he sat down on the sheep-shorn grass, ate three cherry Bakewell tarts, and drank a third of a liter of water. The sugar suffused his blood and made him feel strong and confident. The sun came out and warmed him and he lay back and stretched like a cat on a carport roof.

He lifted one hip, took one of the remaining Exmoor postcards from his back pocket, and unbuttoned his jeans.

Twenty minutes later, Avery stood up and focused on his surroundings once more.

He took no formal bearings. He didn’t need to. He felt a strange, inevitable tugging in his chest and could do nothing but follow it.

With the sun now warming his back, Arnold Avery, serial killer, quickened his pace and headed north.

Chapter 30

BECAUSE OF THE VEGETABLE PATCH, STEVEN WAS LATE FOR SCHOOL and so missed seeing Lewis before the bell rang. They were not in the same classes and then, at lunchtime, Lewis failed to appear at the gym door, which was where they always met.

Steven huddled out of the wind and ate his cheese-and-Marmite alone, not knowing whether to wait for Lewis or to go looking for him. Both options seemed pathetic and neither gave him any clue as to how he should proceed once he and Lewis came face-to-face.

His mother had put a Mars bar in his lunch box; a real Mars bar—not some inferior generic copy of a Mars bar—and on any other day it would have excited Steven. The Mars bar meant that his mother was happy. Of course, it was Uncle Jude who was making her happy, not him, but they would all benefit in trickle-down. Lewis was not there to admire the Mars bar, and that took some of the shine off it. Still, Steven ate it while appreciating the silver lining—if Lewis wasn’t there to admire the Mars bar, at least he wasn’t there to eat half of it.

But once the thick, caramel sweetness had left his mouth, the bitterness of a friendship betrayed was still there.

He saw Lewis at the end of the day, jostling other kids as he hurried through the throng at the school gates, glancing around nervously as if he might be pursued. Steven ducked behind the canteen bins and stood there, staring at his cheap new trainers, already scuffed and breaking apart from a combination of poor workmanship and overactive boy.

He knew Lewis was looking out for him, hoping he wouldn’t catch him up on the way home. Steven still didn’t know what to say to Lewis, so he gave him a long head start and then walked home so slowly that Lettie tightened her mouth at him for the first time in days.

“You’re late.”

“I helped Mr. Edwards put the gym stuff away. The door was locked and he had to go to the office for the key.” Steven had thought of the lie during the interminable walk home. It sounded just fine coming out of his mouth, and Lettie’s lips loosened in acceptance, but Nan looked at him sharply and he felt himself grow warm about the ears.

Still, she didn’t say anything, and Uncle Jude came downstairs, whistling “There Is a Green Hill Far Away,” which was her favorite, and so tea unfolded without further incident, until Uncle Jude said: “Did you see the patch?”

Steven nodded noncommittally but didn’t look at him.

“Any idea what happened?”

He shook his head and put fake butter on a piece of bread, hoping his silence made the lie somehow less sinful.

Uncle Jude shrugged and sighed. “We can put the beans up again but we’ll lose a lot of the carrots and potatoes.”

Steven nodded.

“Do it after tea, if you like.”

He nodded more vigorously. The evening was calm and warm and the thought of repairing the damage was an attractive one. He’d been afraid Uncle Jude would lose interest; that the vegetable patch was a one-shot deal and it was over now.

“Wondered if your friend would like to help.”

“Who?” said Steven warily.

“The one who’s all mouth and no trousers.”

Steven flushed as he recognized Lewis, feeling laughter bubbling, but quickly tamped down with guilt and sudden nerves at ever seeing his best friend again.

“Why don’t you go and ask him?” Uncle Jude was studying him now with a careful look in his eye. Steven saw him exchange a small glance with his mother.

Uncle Jude knew. Somehow.

Steven looked at his fish fingers.

“I don’t think he’d like to. Digging’s not his thing.”

He held his breath, waiting for Uncle Jude to make him, or argue with him, or expose Lewis. But he didn’t.

“Just the two of us, then,” he said instead, and Steven met his eyes for the first time today, and smiled.

Chapter 31

ARNOLD AVERY WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE DIRECTION HE SHOULD take, but he was wrong about the ticking clock.

Because the governor wanted to keep morale up.