Chapter 31

Repeating himself, Ridge said, “We’re almost to Gowanda. Tartan is after Gowanda, if memory serves me right.”

“You’re right,” Damian agreed, sat up, cleared his throat, and told himself to do his job and not think about being tired. 47: After This Hell Night

June 8

3:06 A.M.

Highway 39

Gowanda, Pennsylvania

Gowanda was a shithole, Damian thought. One of those one-light towns where nothing really happened on the town’s exterior, but under its surface was a complete nightmare. It was a town where Wal-Mart shopping Uncles sometimes fucked their nieces on Sunday mornings, impregnating the little whores. Meth was probably made in basements by grandmothers and given to their high school slug grandchildren. Male pedophiles planned New York trips to pick up little girls for a week of sexual diddling. FBI lovers rarely passed through the hole in search of a serial killer by the name of the Highwayman.