'All right。'
He went slowly upstairs。 The bed had been stripped to the mattress。 He had done it himself。 He put two pillows on his side； took off his shoes； and lay down。 The morning sun shone fiercely in through the window。 I won't sleep； he thought； but I'll rest。 I'll try to； anyway。 Fifteen minutes 。。。 maybe half an hour 。。。
But by the time the phone woke him up； that day's burning noon had e。
Charity Camber had her morning coffee and then called Alva Thornton in Castle Rock。 This time Alva himself answered。
He knew that she had chatted with Bessie the night before。 'Nope；' Alva said。 'I ain't seed hide nor hair of Joe since last Thursday or so； Charity。 He brought over a tractor tire he fixed for me。 Never said nothing about feeding Cujo； although I'd've been happy to。'
'Alva； could you run up to the house and check on Cujo） Brett saw him Monday morning before we left for my sister's； and he thought he looked sick。 And I just don't know who Joe would have gotten to feed him。' After the way of country people； she added： 'No hurry。'
'I'll take a run up and check；' Alva said。 'Let me get those damn cacklers fed and watered and I'm gone。'
That would be fine； Alva；' Charity said gratefully； and gave him her sister's number。 'Thanks so much。'
They talked a little more； mostly about the weather。 The constant heat had Alva worried about his chickens。 Then she hung up。
Brett looked up from his cereal when she came into the kitchen。 Jim junior was very carefully making rings on the table with his orange juice glass and talking a mile a minute。 He had decided sometime during the last forty…eight hours that Brett Camber was a dose relation to Jesus Christ。
'Well？' Brett asked。
'You were right。 Dad didn't ask Alva to feed him。' She saw the disappointment and worry on Brett's face and went on： 'But he's going up to check on Cujo this morning； as soon as he's got his chickens tended to。 I left the number this time。 He said he'd call back one way or the other。'
'Thanks； Mom。'
Jim clattered back from the table as Holly called him to e upstairs and get dressed。 'Wanna e up with me； Brett？'
Brett smiled。 'I'll wait for you； slugger。'
'Okay。' Jim ran out trumpeting； 'Mom！ Brett said he'd wait！ Brett's gonna wait for me to get dressed！'
A thunder； as of elephants； on the stairs。
'He's a nice kid；' Brett said casually。
'I thought；' Charity said； 'that we might go home a little early。 If that's all right with you。'
Brett's face brightened； and in spite of all the decisions she had e to； that brightness made her feel a Iittle sad。 'When？' he asked。
'How does tomorrow sound？ She had been intending to suggest Friday。
'Great！ But' … he Iooked at her closely …'are you done visiting； Mom？ I mean； she's your sister。'
Charity thought of the credit cards； and of the Wurlitzer jukebox Holly's husband had been able to afford but did not know how to fix。 Those were the things that had impressed Brett； and she supposed they had impressed her as well in some way。 Perhaps she had seen them through Brett's eyes a little 。。。 through Joe's eyes。 And enough was enough。
'Yes；' she said。 'I guess I've done my visiting。 I'll tell Holly this morning。'
'Okay； Mom。' He looked at her a little shyly。 'I wouldn't mind ing back； you know。 I do like them。 And he's a neat little kid。 Maybe he can e up to Maine sometime。'
'Yes；' she said； surprised and grateful。 She didn't think Joe would object to that。 'Yes； maybe that could be arranged。'
'Okay。 And tell me what Mr。 Thornton said。'
'I will。'
But Alva never called back。 As he was feeding his chickens that morning； the motor in his big air conditioner blew； and he was immediately in a life…or…death struggle to save his birds before the day's heat could kill them。 Donna Trenton might have called it another stroke of that same Fate she saw reflected in Cujo's muddy； homicidal eyes。 By the time the issue of the air conditioner was settled； it was four in the afternoon （Alva Thornton lost sixty…two chickens that day and counted himself off cheaply）； and the confrontation which had begun Monday afternoon in the Cambers' sunstruck dooryard was over。
Andy Masen was the Maine Attorney General's Wunderkind； and there were those who said that someday … and not too distant a day； either … he would lead the A。 G。's criminal division。 Andy Masen's sights were set a good deal higher than that。 He hoped to be Attorney General himself in 1984； and in a position to run for Governor by 1987。 And after eight years as Governor； who knew？
He came from a large； poor family。 He and his three brothers and two sisters had grown up in a ramshackle 'poor white trash' house on the outer Sabbatus Road in the town of Lisbon。 His brothers and sisters had been exactly up … or down … to town expectations。 Only Andy Masen and his youngest brother； Marry； had managed to finish high school。 For a while it had looked as if Roberta might make it； but she had gotten herself knocked up higher than a kite following a dance her senior year。 She had left school to marry the boy； who still had pimples at twenty…nine； drank Narragansett straight from the can； and knocked both her and the kid around。 Marry had been killed in a car crash over on Route 9 in Durham。 He and some of his drunk friends had tried to take the tight curve up Sirois Hill at seventy。 The Camaro in which they were riding rolled over twice and burned。
Andy had been the star of the family； but his mother had never liked him。 She was a little afraid of him。 When talking to friends she would say； 'My Andy's a cold fish；' but he was more than that。 He was always tightly controlled； always buttoned up。 He knew from the fifth grade on that he was going to somehow get through college and bee a lawyer。 Lawyers made a lot of money。 Lawyers worked with logic。 Logic was Andy's God。
He saw each event as a point from which a finite number of possibilities radiated。 At the end of each possibility line was another event point。 And so on。 This point…to…point blueprint of life had served him very well。 He made straight A's through grammar school and high school； got a Merit Scholarship； and could have gone to college almost anywhere。 He decided on the University of Maine； throwing away his chance at Harvard because he had already decided to start his career in Augusta； and he didn't want some piney…woodser in gumrubber boots and a lumberman's jacket throwing Harvard in his face。
On this hot July morning； things were right on schedule。
He put Vic Trenton's phone down。 There had been no answer at the Camber telephone number。 The State Police detective and Bannerman were still here； waiting for instructions like well…trained dogs。 He had worked with Townsend； the State Police guy； before； and he was the sort of fellow Andy Masen felt fortable with。 When you said fetch； Townsend fetched。 Bannerman was a new one； and Masen didn't care for him。 His eyes were a little too bright； and the way he had suddenly e out with the idea that Kemp might have coerced the woman by using the kid 。。。 well； such ideas； if they were going to e； ought to e from Andy Masen。 The three of them sat on the sectional sofa； not talking； just drinking coffee and waiting for the FBI boys to show up with the trace…back equipment。
Andy thought about the case。 It might be a tempest in a teapot； but it might well be something *more。 The husband was convinced it was a kidnapping and attached no importance to the missing car。 He was fixated on the idea that Steven Kemp had taken his people。
Andy Masen was not so sure。
Camber wasn't home； no one was home up there。 Maybe they had all gone on vacation。 That was likely enough； July was the quintessential vacation month； and they had been due to hit someone who was gone。 Would he have taken her car in for a repair job if he was going away？ Unlikely。 Unlikely that the car was there at all。 But it had to be checked； and there was one possibility he had neglected to mention to Vic。
Suppose she had taken the car up to Camber's Garage？ Suppose someone had offered her a lift back？ Not a friend； not an acquaintance； not Camber or his wife； but a total stranger？ Andy could hear Trenton saying； 'Oh； no； my wife would never accept a ride from a stranger。' But； in the vernacular； she had accep