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at it； which could mean Bosch was there and had decided to stay for a while。 And there was a town called Missing Mile。 And no one could really shoot himself five times with five different guns。
The clincher came when Schulman delivered the news that Joseph Boudreaux； Times…Picayune reporter； had never even heard of the goddess Kali。
Agent Cover thought Bosch had finally fucked up。
He stared out the window at the bright blue morning sky； at the sunlight washing over the creamy tops of the clouds。 He always felt safe at twenty thousand feet。 He took his mirrorshades out of his breast pocket and put them on； then glanced back down at the file。 The little photo of Bosch stared up at him； lips twisted in a punk sneer； eyes accusing。
I'm ing for you； he thought。 I hope you had a ball in North Carolina； because you aren't going anywhere else for a long； long time。
He was a little surprised to find himself elated。 He was supposed to be a granite agent。 Instead he felt like a kid on an Easter egg hunt； closing in on the big chocolate bunny。
Terry drove his Rambler into town around two； sent his afternoon worker home； cranked up R。E。M。's first album； and sat behind the counter at the Whirling Disc staring contentedly at the shifting patterns of sunlight on the opposite wall。 He always felt wonderful the day after doing mushrooms。 The visuals took about twenty…four hours to fade pletely from his brain； and they gave the next day a distinct psychedelic edge。 Even his throat felt better。
R。J。； who still preferred to live like an eleven…year…old kid most of the time； had just said no and gone home to bed。 Terry tripped with Victoria； Calvin； and David； the redheaded boy Calvin had met at the show。 David turned out to be a brilliant twenty…year…old exchange student from London who entertained them all with witty banter until Calvin dragged him off into one of the bedrooms。 Terry and Victoria took the other one。 There was nothing quite like sex on hallucinogens to strengthen a relationship。
Around four…thirty A。M。 they'd all met back up in the kitchen； bedraggled and happy； and managed to make a batch of popcorn。 Then they put Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory on Terry's VCR； snuggled up on the couch； and thrilled to the sinister tale until dawn； rewinding it again and again at the part where Gene Wilder said 〃WE are the music makers； and WE are the dreamers of dreams。〃 After that Terry and Victoria crashed while Calvin and David went zooming off to breakfast； still full of crazed fungal energy。
Terry suspected that psychedelic drugs affected the body chemistry of gay men differently than straights。 He could never eat greasy diner food on 'shrooms； and though he'd enjoyed Ecstasy the couple of times he'd done it； he hadn't felt remotely like dancing to disco music all night。 Or techno； or rave； or whatever was the current noise of choice。 Calvin and David had kept wanting to drive to Raleigh where they imagined they could find' some glamorous after…hours club and do just that。
That made him think of Trevor and Zach。 Terry had hoped they would show up again； but they never did。 He wondered if they had spent the night tripping in that house。 The thought made his nuts crawl。 Terry remembered scaring his younger friends with the story of the murders as a teenager； wondering aloud if the McGees' ghosts still lived in the house； daring them to go inside with him。
Eventually； of course； they had。 At first it had just looked like any old abandoned house； all sagging wood and ancient dust and shadow。 But as they approached the bloodstained doorway to the hall； the shadows had seemed to shift around them； to change； and for a moment they were no longer in the house at all。
He didn't know if it had been a group hallucination or what。 He doubted so； because it didn't seem to have anything to do with the murders。 Terry had seen a city street around him； a boarded…up slum； wavering like a mirage but definitely there。 R。J。 had seen a dark deserted bar with shattered glass on the floor and cracked mirrors on the walls so dusty that he could not see his face in them。 And Steve would never say what he had seen； except that it had legs like a bug。
They had all felt that the place was sucking at them； that they could get lost in here and never e back。 What Terry hadn't admitted to the others…but suspected they'd felt as well…was that for a moment the idea of getting lost had tempted him。 Here were sweet poisons and twisted dreams。 Here were things he could never touch with hands of mere flesh and bone 。。。
They had run out yelling； slapping high…fives but not fooling each other for a second。 They had tumbled off the porch and across the weed…choked yard； toward the small stubborn figure of Ghost far away on the other side of the road。 None of them had ever gone back。 But Terry had dreamed of it； that strange seductive slum。 And he would be willing to bet Steve and R。J。 had had dreams of their own。
Terry realized he had been woolgathering。 Two kids were standing by the imports section eyeing him speculatively。 One was a lean black guy wearing a Yellowman shirt and voluminous multipocketed fatigue pants； long color…threaded dreadlocks pulled back in a thick ponytail from his amiable； slightly horsey face。 The other was an absolute knockout； a stunning Asian girl with short hair that accented her large tilted eyes and exquisite bones。 She wore a lot of earrings； but no makeup。 Terry hadn't seen either of them around town before。
〃Help you with something？〃 he inquired。 Probably they were looking for Steve and Ghost。 Kids from the fringe had started drifting into town over the past year； since Lost Souls？ had managed to get their tape distributed to record stores up and down the East Coast。 Most just wanted to see a show； a few wanted to camp out in the band's yard； or thought Ghost was their true soulmate due to secret personal messages they heard in his lyrics。 It was a little unnerving； but it had brought in tons of business when Steve worked at the store。 Even now that Lost Souls？ was touring； when Terry pointed out that he had played drums on their tape； these kids would always buy a Whirling Disc T…shirt。
The girl stepped forward and； to Terry's surprise； pushed a photograph of Zach across the counter。 The photo had been taken at night； and Terry recognized the locale as New Orleans； probably during Mardi Gras。 Zach was hanging on to a lamppost with one hand； clutching a Dixie beer with the other； wearing a purple jacket and a shirt made of black fishnet and a huge shit…eating grin； obviously drunk within an inch of his life。
〃We're looking for this boy；〃 she said。 〃His name is Zachary。 He's a good friend of ours； and he's in a lot of trouble。〃
〃He looks like he might be。〃 Terry picked up the photograph； pretended to consider it。 〃Nice young kid； though。 I'd hate to see the cops get hold of him。〃
〃We're not cops！ We're trying to warn him about…〃 The girl shut her mouth as if she thought she'd already said too much。 Her panion approached the counter。
〃We e in peace；〃 he said； holding out a large slender hand。 〃We are his brudda an' sista。 My name is Dou