The east, you suddenly know. But you don't need a spirit to tell you that. Look at the body. You hurry to the rider and peel open his camo jacket. It's sticky with pink, congealing blood, but you find the wallet easily enough. No ID, but $140 in twenties.
You pocket the twenties, one at a time, and then discover a receipt between two bills. Banicki Gunworks, Northampton, Massachusetts.
"East of here," you say.
Then you check out the horse. A brief inspection of the saddle turns up a maker's mark: J.L. Heaney.
Jasper Lee Heaney, you suddenly know. No, fool, I'm telling you. He was a leatherworker. Hadley, Massachusetts.
"Is that near Northampton?"
Right next door. And isn't it true that poor Jasper Lee Heaney was torn to pieces a few years back? Isn't that interesting?
When you look up, the cat is gone. There's a little sizzle in your brain as your thoughts settle back into their accustomed shape. But don't worry; I'll be keeping my eye on you, cub.
You have the information you need, but now it's time to get out of here before you freeze. You hurry through the woods back to the nearest county road, making plans for what to tell Clay. Can you even still speak to him? What does he know about this place to the east?
You avoid the Speedway, of course, but as you head down a different road back toward town, a familiar yellow van appears through the early morning mist. It screams to a halt, blasting your legs with freezing slush. Scarper yells something, then rolls down the passenger's side window because you can't hear him and screams it again.
"Where the fuck have you been? Why didn't you call?"
You're between two suburban houses now, drawing attention.
"I—" you start to explain.
"'I, I, I!'" Scarper mocks, perfectly mimicking your tone of voice and yet adding a tone of absurdity to it. "I'm so sick of your voice. 'I did what you demanded!'" You scowl at your words coming from Scarper's mouth.
"I don't have a phone, Scarper. Stop yelling." The locals don't want to listen to a public argument.
"Trying to learn more about that rider, and not having a lot of luck." I'm not feeling good about my prospects.
"Learning where that rider's saddle came from. It's an interesting story. Do you want to hear it?"
"I've got my own business to attend to, Scarper." This "elder" doesn't deserve my respect or explanations.
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