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The latchit was broken, Rhonda whispered. Like shed told Warren days ago:Shit luck and random chaos.

What? Warren asked.

Peter was supposed to fix it. It was written in the schedule at the garage. Laura Lee said the door wouldnt stay closed unless it was locked.

Crowley scribbled in his notebook.

Warren started to cry, and Rhondas first instinct was to go to him, offer comfort to him. But she couldnt. Not knowing that it had been he who looked across the parking lot at her through painted mesh eyes. He who took Ernie on her last trip to Rabbit Island.

She didnt want to believe that it was possible. It seemed like some sick cosmic joke. The only person shed trusted through all of this, the man shed started to fall in love with, had been the rabbit shed been chasing all along.

Maybe youll catch up to him one of these days, Warren had told her just this morning.

Now here he was. She closed her eyes tight, trying to make it all go away. But there was still the oxygen hiss, the beeping.

Warren had stopped the car and run back to where Ernie had fallen out. She had tumbled down a steep embankment, and lay awkwardly, horribly still, on a pile of rocks. He scrambled down to her and saw at once that she was dead. Crowley pressed for detailshow could Warren be so sure she was dead, not just knocked out? Warren described her battered little head, the impossible angle of her neck, the staring eyes, the long, desperate minutes of checking for a pulse, for breathno, she was dead, and it was his fault. Stupid with panic, he carried Ernie back to the car.

I knew I couldnt bring her back. But I couldnt just leave her there. So I decided to bury her.

Rhonda shook her head.Why? she wanted to scream. And she realized what it came down to: Warren had simply made a series of bad choices. Horrible choices. Choices born of the need for quick cash, the chance to make an edgy documentary, the search for a shortcut, and, finally, sheer mind-numbing panic. Everything seemed like a good idea, or maybe the only option, at the time. Rhonda really saw him for what he was: a scared nineteen-year-old kid.

I went back closer to the lake and found an old path through the woods. I carried her in my arms. She was so light. He paused again.

And where was this exactly, Warren? Crowley asked.

Hm? Oh, on the north side of the lake somewhere, I think. I got sort of turned around. But there was a clearing in a grove of pines. I found a hole there. Like the remnant of an old well or something. I laid her down at the bottom and piled rocks and dirt on top.

And Miss Clarks vehicle?

I put the rabbit suit in my gym bag and returned the car, just like we planned. I handed the suit over to Pat and told her that everything had gone according to the plan: that I dropped Ernie off at the edge of the state forest, close to Route 6, right where shed told me.

Crowley looked skeptical. And you expected that she would not find out the truth?

Warren considered.

I dont know what I expected. It just seemed impossible to tell the truth. I could barely believe the truth, you knowlike, how did this happen? Howcould it happen? And I told her the lie so many times over the next few daysshe got worried fast, couldnt figure out what went wrong with her grand planthat I started to believe it. To convince myself. I actually started to think that the little girl was going to come walking out of the woods at any minute. I could see it so clearly. Her little face all lit up as she told everyone all about her adventures on Rabbit Island. It seemed so possible.

Rhonda nodded, looked away from him, focusing her eyes on the monitors that kept track of his pulse and blood pressure.

Rhonda, I dont Im sorry. Sorry for being dishonest. For leading you in the wrong direction. You know Peters keys? I got them from Pat myself and dropped them in the cemetery when we were there, so youd find them. I did everything I could think of to get you off the trail.