Anna knocked lightly on the door, the sound barely loud enough for her to hear, let alone anyone else. As she stood motionless, her heart thumped against her chest.

She’d heard the rumors, but had been in denial she’d ever be called upon, just like someone receiving a cancer diagnosis.

As she was about to step away, a voice said, “Please come in.”

When Anna opened the door, she found Kenneth sitting on the edge of the bed, notepad in his lap, moving his finger across the page as he read. After a long pause, he closed the notepad and placed it at his feet.

In the room was the bed, a Bible next to a pistol on the nightstand, and a guitar leaning against the wall. Behind the bed was a small window with the shades closed. A musty scent hung in the air, reminiscent of a week-old pile of damp towels.

“I said come in,” Kenneth said, a little louder.

Anna glanced down the hallway, contemplating escape, but she knew she’d never make it past the guards.

As she began taking half steps toward him, he raised his hand. “I prefer my privacy, so please shut the door,” he said, gesturing with his fingers.

“Okay,” Anna whispered, closing it behind her.

“Now sit,” Kenneth said, patting the mattress.

Anna made her way to the bed and sat at arm’s length. She’d seen Kenneth countless times, but never this close, and never alone.

“What do you prefer, Anna or Annabelle?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does. Your name is very important to who you are as a person. Do you honestly not care what people call you?”

“I don’t know,” she said uneasily.

“I’m sensing some anxiety. Do I scare you?”

“Yeah, a little. I’m sorry for saying that.”

Kenneth chuckled. “It’s okay. There is nothing to worry about, I promise. I’m as harmless as a caterpillar.” He placed his hand on her back, then ran his fingers up and down her spine. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” the girl said, nodding feverishly.

“Good. I believe trust is fundamental to any relationship. I wouldn’t be where I’m at without trust, and if I wasn’t here, neither would your family, or your friends, or your classmates, or anyone in town. This community is built on trust, and that all starts with me.”

He removed his hand and rested it in his lap. “And if you don’t trust me, we can’t be friends. Do you want to be friends?”

“I guess,” she whispered.

“Good. So, let’s try this again. Do you prefer Anna or Annabelle?”

“Anna.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I prefer Anna as well. It is a very pretty name.”

Anna nodded.

“And since we’re friends now, there is nothing to be scared of, right? Nothing at all.”

“Yes, I guess so,” she muttered.

“Then why are you so far away?”

“I don’t know.”

“Please, come closer,” Kenneth said, patting the mattress again.

Anna faked a smile, then shuffled over, leaving a few inches between them. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. As the room turned silent, Anna fixated on the door, praying someone would kick it down and rescue her.

Kenneth started humming a melody. After a few bars, he pointed to the guitar. “Do you enjoy when I play?”

“I guess.”

He glared down at her.

“I mean, I’ve only heard you play a couple songs, but what I’ve heard I’ve liked.”

“Did you know I was in a band when I was younger?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I was. It feels like a lifetime ago. Me and some friends covered songs from the Beatles and The Beach Boys.” He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. “Do you like those bands?”

Unsure, Anna said, “I’ve heard the names before, but I don’t know any of their songs.”

“Yes, that’s right. Maybe someday I’ll play you some of their records. And speaking of music, your mother told me you want to learn how to play guitar. Is that true?”

“Yes, I’ve mentioned it to her a few times.”

Kenneth leaned his head back and took a deep breath. “Good. Music is what separates us from other species, and something that can unite the worst of enemies. It is vital to our existence.”

He picked up the guitar and sat back down. “Would you like me to teach you?”

“That would be nice.”

“Great, your first lesson starts right now. I’m going to teach you two chords.”

After a deep exhale, Anna took the guitar with timid hands. It was big in her lap, and she repositioned it a few times until she felt comfortable.

“Here, let me see your left hand.” He took her index and middle fingers and placed them on the second and third strings of the second fret. “Now take this with your right hand,” he said, holding a pick. “Okay, now, strum all the strings.”

At first, she barely touched the pick to the strings, like she was afraid she’d break something.

“Perfect, now just play it a little louder. Really come down on them.”

She glanced up, and he nodded. She lowered her head and placed the pick on the top string, then after a moment, she brought it down with all her might. The chord echoed throughout the room.

“That’s it, that is an E Minor. Your first chord!” he said.

Anna snickered, and for the first time since she’d entered the room, she thought maybe she’d escape unscathed.

“Don’t stop now, keep going!” Kenneth said, gesturing with his index finger in a circular motion.

After a minute or so, Kenneth held up his hand, and she stopped playing. “Now I’m going to show you a G Major. So, the last chord was an E Minor, and this is a G Major.” He repeated both chords a few times, then repositioned her fingers on the guitar.

As Anna played, Kenneth tapped on his thigh to keep rhythm. Then he called out the first chord. She stopped, then carefully moved her fingers before strumming again. He continued calling out the two chords, and with each change, her confidence and proficiency grew.

“Did you enjoy that?” he said, placing the guitar back against the wall.

“Yes, very much,” she said, without hesitation.

“I can see you have a natural talent, and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone catch on so quickly.” He winked at her.

She thanked him repeatedly.

“So, here’s an idea. What if I gave you weekly lessons?”

“Really? I would love that more than anything.”

“Yes, but you have to promise me that once we start, you won’t quit.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“Let’s shake on it,” Kenneth said, offering his hand.

As they shook, he leered down at her. The sound of their breathing filled the room. Twice, she tried to break off the shake, but he didn’t let go.

“Your hands are very soft.”

“Umm, thank you,” she said.

Kenneth leaned down and kissed her head. “The main reason I requested you is because I wanted to personally wish you a Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“How was it?”

Confused, Anna shrugged. “How was what?”

“Your special day?”

“It was fine, I guess.”

Kenneth chuckled. “You guess? I feel like you’re not being honest with me. Was something wrong?”

“I just wish the cake was strawberry, that’s all.”

Kenneth nodded and picked up the notepad. After removing a pen from the spine, he flipped to the middle of the book and began writing. Anna averted her eyes, as if seeing what was written on the paper would turn her into stone.

“Next year you’ll get strawberry, I promise.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Well, I have one more surprise for you.” Kenneth pulled an unmarked box from under the bed and placed it in her lap. “It is a very special present from me to you.”

Anna looked down at it, then up at him.

“Open it,” he said.

Carefully, she placed her hands on both ends of the box and slowly pulled the lid up, revealing a yellow prairie dress.

“Well, do you like it?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said, her legs trembling. “I didn’t think I was allowed to wear anything that isn’t white.”

“Well, I make the rules, and when you’re with me, it’s allowed.”

Kenneth removed the dress, tossed the box onto the floor, then draped it in front of them.

“It is a very beautiful dress, for a very beautiful girl. In fact, I’d like you to model it for me. Would you do that?”

Anna fixated on the floor, breathing through pursed lips. After about ten seconds, Kenneth asked again, this time loud enough that anyone on the other side of the door could’ve heard.

“Where can I change?” Anna muttered.

“Right here is fine.”

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable doing—”

“Remember, we’re friends.”

Anna started to smile, but it quickly vanished.

“Thirteen is an important age. Very important. You’re not a girl anymore. You’re a woman. Do you feel like one?”

Anna started to answer, but each time she had to stop after a few syllables. Finally, she said, “I don’t know. I guess.”

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” Kenneth said, rubbing her thigh in a slow, circular motion.

“No,” she said, starting to blush.

“You don’t have to feel embarrassed. Most girls your age haven’t kissed a boy. It is perfectly normal. If you can believe it, I myself didn’t kiss anyone until I was a little older than you.”

Anna swallowed hard, gripped by fear. Her mind raced, remembering all the rumors she’d heard. If half of them were true, she’d rather be dead.

“Would you like me to teach you how to kiss?”

“I don’t feel well. Can I please go home?”

As Anna shifted on the bed, there was a loud creak, as if one of the slats beneath the mattress had broken. She flinched, but Kenneth didn’t move, almost as though he’d had a premonition the noise was coming.

“Do you know your parents asked me to invite you here? In fact, they begged me. Do you know why they want you here?” he said, his voice rough.

“Because you are the leader.”

“That is correct,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “And do you know what my job as the leader is?”

“I don’t, umm— I don’t know if, umm, anyone has told me. I’m sorry.”

Kenneth smiled. “It is to keep every person in this community safe from harm, and the only way that happens is if everyone follows my command. Otherwise, outsiders could come in and break apart everything we’ve built. Everything would vanish into nothing. Everything. And they would not stop until Echo Canyon was in complete ruins. Is that something you want?”

“No,” Anna cried, staring up at the ceiling, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Then you must obey every word I say. And I mean everything. I don’t care if it’s something as simple as not watching TV, or abstaining from caffeine, or not cheating on a test, or not lying to an elder. All rules must be obeyed.”

“Yes, yes! I’ll obey everything you say. I’m so sorry, I was just confused.”

“Stand! Stand in front of me!”

Anna pushed off the bed and took a few steps out, then turned around. Her legs trembled, knees on the verge of buckling.

“Look. At. Me,” he said with precision.

She lifted her chin and looked directly at the man with wide eyes.

“Say my name.”

“Kenneth.”

“Louder.”

“Kenneth.”

“Louder!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Kenneth, my leader!” Anna cried.

She repeated “my leader” six or seven times, each one louder and more unhinged than the last.

Finally, he held up his palm. “And you will follow every one of my commands, right?”

“Yes, anything you say.”

“Good. Now, I’ll say it again, and I promise it will be the last time. Put on this dress,” he said, never letting his eyes off her.

After wiping away the tears, Anna unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to the floor.

ONE

After leaving Motel 6, Hannah and Mark drove to downtown Laramie. They parked and walked until they came upon a neon sign flashing “The Dive.” A flyer taped to the door read “Sunday Funday – $5 Bud Light Pitchers and $3 Wild Turkey shots.”

“Look at that, it must be our lucky day. What do you say?” Mark said, gesturing to the door.

“With a name as horrible as The Dive, it must be a good place to get drunk,” Hannah said.

The bar was packed, probably exceeding maximum capacity. Almost everyone seemed to be a student at the University of Wyoming. Some of the girls looked like they were barely eighteen, let alone twenty-one. Fake IDs had to be a booming business in Laramie, Hannah thought.

The scent of stale beer lingered in the air, and the floor was sticky, like walking over an insect trap. Cowboy hats hung on the wall, and dollar bills were stapled to the ceiling. Hannah was unsure of the significance of the dollars, maybe some sort of rite of passage for locals.

They squeezed through the crowd and sat at a high-top at the back of the bar. Some minutes later, a waitress approached their table, notepad in hand.

“What can I get you guys,” she shouted over the crowd.

Mark ordered a pitcher and a round of Wild Turkey shots.

“Might as well make it two rounds,” Hannah said, shrugging. “Saves you from making a second trip.”

Since they’d stepped foot in the bar, country music had blared from the jukebox, and aside from Garth Brooks and Johnny Cash, she didn’t recognize any of the other songs. Country was by far her least favorite genre, and outside of a few artists, she’d rather sit in silence. For a moment she considered picking Slayer or Pantera, but she decided against it, not wanting to incite a riot.

The waitress dropped off the drinks, and Mark slid a shot glass toward Hannah.

“Cheers,” Mark said.

“Wait a minute, what are we cheersing to?”

Mark held the glass in the air, stroking his chin. “How about to the lovely state of Wyoming?”

They clanked their glasses together, and both took the shot without wincing.

“Now that the first drink is out of the way, I guess we should get to know each other. You go first, Hannah said.

“Let’s see, where to start?” Mark said, glancing to the dollar-bill ceiling.

Mark was from Boston, it turned out, more specifically Cambridge—born in 1974, within two weeks of Hannah. His father was a cardiologist and his mother a librarian at MIT. Only one sibling, a younger sister in the third year of a pediatric residency program. Two years ago, Mark had graduated with a BS in Journalism from Boston University.

“My father thinks he’s clever and likes to refer to it as a bullshit degree.”

“So, I take it he doesn’t want you to be a writer?”

Mark howled, drowning out the crowd and music for a moment.

“That’s funny. He thinks any profession other than a doctor, lawyer, or architect is a waste of my time and his money. Since I was like four, my parents told me I was destined to be a cardiologist just like my father, but I’ve always been pretty squeamish around blood, so I knew that was never going to work out. Don’t even get me started on needles either.”

“Okay, let me do a quick recap,” Hannah said, tapping her thumb on the table. “You’re from a very successful and upper-class family living in New England, and your parents probably lie to their friends at parties about you and your career path.”

“That pretty much sums it up.”

“What you haven’t said is what you’re doing in Wyoming.”

“I came out here to write the next great American Western.”

“How is that coming?”

He took a sip. “To quote Donald Sutherland from Animal House, ‘It’s a piece of shit.’”

Hannah chuckled. “Seriously?”

“Let’s just say, not as well as I planned. Occasionally, I have amazing inspiration, but most of the time I’ll just stare at a blank screen for hours. I don’t know, maybe I’m not cut out to be a writer. Maybe my father is right and I should just give up on my dream and go to fucking law school.”

“No, please don’t. The world doesn’t need another lawyer.” Hannah took a drink. “Wait a second, you’re a trust fund baby, aren’t you? No job. No worries about money. Traveling across the country pursuing your dream.”

“I wouldn’t say that. My parents cut me off about a year ago, and I had to sell my car. It was a ’96 BMW 3 Series, my graduation present. I loved that car.” He let out a deep sigh. “Now I have some clunker with almost 200,000 miles, and I’ve been living off the proceeds of the BMW ever since. Man, my dad blew his lid when I told him I sold the car.”

The waitress stopped at the table, and Hannah ordered another pitcher.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Hannah?”

She took the final sips of her beer. “I’m just trying to grease the wheel and get past all the stupid conversation people worry about on a first date.”

“Oh, is that what you call this? A first date?”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “I think you’ve left out one major detail of your life.”

“And that is?” Mark said, circling his index finger.

“If you’re from Boston, where is that lovely New England accent?”

“Trust me, I’ve practiced long and hard to get rid of it, but give me a couple more of these and it’ll slip out like a bride out of her dress on her wedding night,” Mark said, holding up an empty shot glass.

“Awesome, I always wanted to have a conversation with someone who sounds exactly like Matt Damon.”

“Not funny, Hannah, not in the slightest,” Mark said, trying not to smile. “Okay, enough about me. It’s your turn to spill the beans.”

“I don’t talk about myself to strangers,” Hannah said with a smirk.

“No, no, no,” he said, emphasizing the final one. “You made me tell you about my boring life, so you’re not getting out of this that easy.”

“Fine. My parents got divorced when I was sixteen. My father is a recovering alcoholic who’s in remission from prostate cancer, and Margaret, the woman who gave birth to me, abandoned us. I haven’t said more than a few words to her in years. She remarried this lawyer who has his face plastered on billboards all over Denver. I’m sure they probably run into your parents at rich people ski getaways in Aspen.”

“Margaret? You don’t call her your mother?”

“Nope. I stopped using that term years ago.”

“Interesting.”

“What does that mean?” Hannah said, eyebrows raised.

“Nothing, I’m just adding some commentary. What about siblings?”

“One sister, Casey, but she was murdered when she was a student at UW. She lived a few miles from here.”

Hannah prepared herself for the customary response of “Oh my god” or “I’m so sorry” that she’d heard countless times.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Hannah faked a smile, then told him about some of her work as a PI, the Megan Floyd case, and her investigation in Laramie that had solved Casey’s murder. She intentionally left out that she’d nearly been killed by a serial killer.

“Jesus. I’m kind of at a loss for words.”

“You don’t have to say anything, I’d actually prefer if you didn’t,” Hannah said, searching for the waitress. Unable to locate her, Hannah turned back to Mark. “Sorry, but can we talk about something else?”

“Yes, of course.”

For the next hour, the conversation was mindless. Favorite bands, best concert, dream vacation, and favorite food. They also continued ordering drinks, and Hannah lost count as her speech grew slurred.

During the chorus of “Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks, with nearly the entire bar singing along, Hannah leaned in and kissed Mark for the first time.

“What took you so long?” he asked.

“Do you want to go on an adventure with me?” Hannah said, stringing the words together. The spontaneity gave her an uneasy feeling, making her second-guess the proposal.

Without hesitation, he said, “What do you have in mind?”

“We get in the car and drive west. Stop when we want to stop, sleep when we get tired, eat at greasy diners, go to all the cheesy tourist spots that retirees live for, like the biggest ball of twine or random ghost towns. We’ll hike, get drunk, fuck. Spend the next month or two living without a care in the world.”

“Is this something that sounds like a great idea because you’re drunk, but when you wake up, you’ll pretend like you don’t remember this conversation?”

“I’m dead serious. I’m leaving tomorrow morning, with or without you.”

“You’re not joking, are you?”

Hannah rolled her eyes. “What did I just say?”

“Sorry, I’m somewhat drunk and it’s loud as fuck in here, so I’m a little befuddled. What do I do about my car?”

“I don’t know. Park it at the bus station. Or the college. It’ll be fine for a few months.”

“And what if it gets towed? That’s like $50 a day in an impound yard.”

“You’re worried about what you referred to as a clunker? What did it cost you? Like $500? A thousand?”

“It’s got sentimental value.”

“Well, if it gets towed, I’ll pay to get it out or buy you another piece-of-shit car. Whatever is cheaper.”

“You’re really serious about this?”

Hannah let out a long sigh. “How drunk are you? I’ve already said I was serious.”

“I’m just making sure, because you’ve only known me for all of—let’s see,” he said, raising his arm to pull back his sleeve and reveal his watch. “Exactly five hours. What if I’m some kind of psychopath? I mean I’m not, but you don’t know that.”

“You look like you’re more of a guy who cries at commercials. And you definitely can’t be any worse than what I’ve gone through the last few weeks.”

Mark sipped his beer, then said, “Okay, let’s do it. I do have to tell you something though.”

“What?”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if your plan is to go west, you’re not going to be able to see the biggest ball of twine. I believe that’s in Nebraska. Maybe Kansas.”

Hannah smiled, then took the final swig of her beer. “Well fuck, maybe we can visit the biggest thermometer instead.”

“I’ll do some research. I’m sure I can find some good stuff,” he said. The New England accent finally slipped out.

“There it is! I’ve been waiting all night for it,” Hannah said, laughing.