Joyland

As she put the gun back on the counter, Lane used his bandanna to wipe a smutch of sweat and grime from the back of his neck. He spoke very softly as he did this chore. "Jesus Horatio Christ. Nobody gets eight peeps."

"I only nicked the last one, and at this range I should have had them all." She wasn't boasting, just stating a fact.

Mike said, almost apologetically: "Told you she was good."

He curled a fist over his mouth and coughed into it. "She was thinking about the Olympics, only then she dropped out of college."

"You really are Annie Oakley," Lane said, stuffing his bandanna back into a rear pocket. "Any prize, pretty lady. You pick."

"I already have my prize," she said. "This has been a wonderful, wonderful day. I can never thank you guys enough." She turned in my direction. "And this guy. Who actually had to talk me into it. Because I'm a fool." She kissed the top of Mike's head. "But now I better get my boy home. Where's Milo?"

We looked around and saw him halfway down Joyland Avenue, sitting in front of Horror House with his tail curled around his paws.

"Milo, come!" Annie called.

His ears pricked up but he didn't come. He didn't even turn in her direction, just stared at the facade of Joyland's only dark ride. I could almost believe he was reading the drippy, cobwebfestooned invitation: COME IN IF YOU DARE.

While Annie was looking at Milo, I stole a glance at Mike.

Although he was all but done in from the excitements of the day, his expression was hard to mistake. It was satisfaction. I know it's crazy to think he and his Jack Russell had worked this out in advance, but I did think it.

I still do.

"Roll me down there, Mom," Mike said. "He'll come with me."

"No need for that," Lane said. "If you've got a leash, I'm happy to go get him."

"It's in the pocket on the back of Mike's wheelchair," Annie said.

"Urn, probably not," Mike said. "You can check but I'm pretty sure I forgot it."

Annie checked while I thought, In a pig's ass you forgot.

"Oh, Mike," Annie said reproachfully. "Your dog, your responsibility. How many times have I told you?"

"Sorry, Mom." To Fred and Lane he said, "Only we hardly ever use it because Milo always comes."

"Except when we need him to." Annie cupped her hands around her mouth. "Milo, come on! Time to go home!" Then, in a much sweeter voice: "Biscuit, Milo! Come get a biscuit!"

Her coaxing tone would have brought me on the run-probably with my tongue hanging out-but Milo didn't budge.

"Come on Dev," Mike said. As if I were also in on the plan but had missed my cue, somehow. I grabbed the wheelchair's handles and rolled Mike down Joyland Avenue toward the funhouse. Annie followed. Fred and Lane stayed where they were, Lane leaning on the chump board among the laid-out popguns on their chains. He had removed his derby and was spinning it on one finger.

When we got to the dog, Annie regarded him crossly. "What's wrong with you, Milo?"

Milo thumped his tail at the sound of Annie's voice, but didn't look at her. Nor did he move. He was on guard and intended to stay that way unless he was hauled away.

"Michael, please make your dog heel so we can go home.

You need to get some r-"

Two things happened before she could finish. I'm not exactly sure of the sequence. I've gone over it often in the years since then-most often on nights when I can't sleep-and I'm still not sure. I think the rumble came first: the sound of a ride-car starting to roll along its track. But it might have been the padlock dropping. It's even possible that both things happened at the same time.

The big American Master fell off the double doors below the Horror House fat;ade and lay on the boards, gleaming in the October sunshine. Fred Dean said later that the shackle must not have been pushed firmly into the locking mechanism, and the vibration of the moving car caused it to open all the way.

This made perfect sense, because the shackle was indeed open when I checked it.

Still bullshit, though.

I put that padlock on myself, and remember the click as the shackle clicked into place. I even remember tugging on it to make sure it caught, the way you do with a padlock. And all that begs a question Fred didn't even try to answer: with the Horror House breakers switched off, how could that car have gotten rolling in the first place? As for what happened next…