Doctor Sleep (The Shining #2)(81)

“It was a good year,” Rose agreed, “but we can’t make a business of Mexico—we’re too conspicuous. Down there, we’re rich americanos. Up here, we fade into the woodwork. And aren’t you tired of living from year to year? Always on the move and always counting canisters? This is different. This is the motherlode.”

None of them replied. She was their leader and in the end they would do what she said, but they didn’t understand about the girl. That was all right. When they encountered her for themselves, they would. And when they had her locked up and producing steam pretty much to order, they’d offer to get down on their knees and kiss Rose’s feet. She might even take them up on it.

“Go on, Jimmy, but get to the point.”

“I’m pretty sure what you picked up was a teen-slang version of Lickety-Split. It’s a chain of New England convenience stores. There are seventy-three in all, from Providence to Presque Isle. A grammar school kid with an iPad could have nailed that in about two minutes. I printed out the locations and used Whirl 360 to get pix. I found six that have mountain views. Two in Vermont, two in New Hampshire, and two in Maine.”

His laptop case was under his chair. He grabbed it, fumbled in the flap pocket, brought out a folder, and handed it to Rose. “These aren’t pictures of the stores, they’re pictures of various mountain views that can be seen from the neighborhoods the stores are in. Once more courtesy of Whirl 360, which is far better than Google Earth, and God bless its nosy little heart. Take a look and see if any ring a bell. If not, see if there are any you can definitely eliminate.”

Rose opened the folder and slowly went through the photographs. The two showing Vermont’s Green Mountains she put aside at once. One of the Maine locations was also wrong; it showed only one mountain, and she had seen a whole range of them. The other three she looked at longer. Finally she handed them back to Jimmy Numbers.

“One of these.”

He turned the pictures over. “Fryeburg, Maine . . . Madison, New Hampshire . . . Anniston, New Hampshire. Got a feel for which one of the three?”

Rose took them again, then held up the photos of the White Mountains as seen from Fryeburg and Anniston. “I think it’s one of these, but I’m going to make sure.”

“How are you going to do that?” Crow asked.

“I’m going to visit her.”

“If everything you say is true, that could be dangerous.”

“I’ll do it when she’s asleep. Young girls sleep deeply. She’ll never know I was there.”

“Are you sure you need to do that? These three places are pretty close together. We could check them all.”

“Yes!” Rose cried. “We’ll just cruise around and say, ‘We’re looking for a local girl, but we can’t seem to read her location the way we normally can, so give us a little help. Have you noticed any junior high girls around here with precognition or mind-reading talents?’ ”

Crow Daddy gave a sigh, stuck his big hands deep in his pockets, and looked at her.

“I’m sorry,” Rose said. “I’m a little on edge, all right? I want to do this and get it done. And you don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

3

Dan sat looking at the late Eleanor Ouellette. The open eyes, now beginning to glaze. The tiny hands with their palms upturned. Most of all at the open mouth. Inside was all the clockless silence of death.

“Who are you?” Thinking: As if I didn’t know. Hadn’t he wished for answers?

“You grew up fine.” The lips didn’t move, and there seemed to be no emotion in the words. Perhaps death had robbed his old friend of his human feelings, and what a bitter shame that would be. Or perhaps it was someone else, masquerading as Dick. Something else.

“If you’re Dick, prove it. Tell me something only he and I could know.”

Silence. But the presence was still here. He felt it. Then:

“You asked me why Mrs. Brant wanted the car-park man’s pants.”

Dan at first had no idea what the voice was talking about. Then he did. The memory was on one of the high shelves where he kept all the bad Overlook memories. And his lockboxes, of course. Mrs. Brant had been a checkout on the day Danny arrived with his parents, and he had caught a random thought from her as the Overlook’s valet delivered her car: I’d sure like to get into his pants.

“You were just a little boy with a great big radio inside your head. I felt sorry for you. I was scared for you, too. And I was right to be scared, wasn’t I?”

In that there was a faint echo of his old friend’s kindness and humor. It was Dick, all right. Dan looked at the dead woman, dumbfounded. The lights in the room flickered on and off again. The water pitcher gave another brief jitter.

“I can’t stay long, son. It hurts to be here.”

“Dick, there’s a little girl—”

“Abra.” Almost a sigh. “She’s like you. It all comes around.”

“She thinks there’s a woman who may be after her. She wears a hat. It’s an old-fashioned tophat. Sometimes she only has one long tooth on top. When she’s hungry. This is what she told me, anyway.”

“Ask your question, son. I can’t stay. This world is a dream of a dream to me now.”