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caressed my cheek.
    â€œI’ll kiss you and make it allll better.” Her lips touched my forehead.
    â€œThanks, baby. That’s exactly what I needed.”
    Candy picked Katie up and said, “I’ll be back to check on you later.” She turned the TV on and lowered the sound. The moment they left the room, I was pulled, as if by some outside force, into a deep, troubled sleep.
    * * * * *
    When I awoke, it was dark outside. I couldn’t recall any of my dreams, but I was filled with an oppressive foreboding.
    â€œThe sleep of the guilty,” I mumbled, sitting up.
    On the plus side, my head and stomach felt fine. The sheets were damp with my sweat. Physically, I felt good. I must have burned off whatever infection was trying to take hold.
    Was that what this was—a killing virus? Take two pills and just sweat it out. Toss those soaking sheets, and AO, into the washing machine and carry on. It’s not my fault. The virus made me do it.
    Making my way downstairs, I saw Katie at the dining room table wearing headphones connected to the iPad. The screen was cracked but it still worked fine. I couldn’t tell what she was watching, but it kept her engrossed enough not to notice me.
    â€œHoney, should you even be up?” Candy said, rushing to me.
    I smiled. “I’m okay. I told you, all I needed was a nap.”
    She felt my forehead. “I think it was my love and attention that did it.”
    â€œAnd Katie’s kiss,” I added.
    Candy grabbed my hand and walked me to the living room. “I didn’t want Katie to see or hear this.”
    Despite her vow to keep away, the news was on. There was a breaking story about a murder in Bridgton. A female reporter stood outside a ramshackle house. The sound was so low, I couldn’t hear what she was saying – not that I needed her commentary.
    Candy’s grip on my hand tightened.
    â€œThey found the body of a man this afternoon. He’s the father of one of the kids at Katie’s school.”
    I thought I was going to pass out. I plopped onto the couch.
    â€œSomeone butchered him,’” she said. “I thought things like that didn’t happen up here.”
    I could only shake my head. Cops and firemen flitted back and forth behind the reporter.
    â€œWhat about the boy?” I asked, looking at the TV but replaying what I had done in my mind.
    â€œHe ran away,” she said. “They say he watched as his father was killed. The poor kid. I don’t know how a child can ever recover from something like that. I wonder if they’ll cancel school on Monday. I’m just so sick about this, Peter.”
    She snuggled close to me. I put my arm around her.
    Candy didn’t question how I knew there’d been a boy in the house. She was too wrapped up in the horror of the story. I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been, opening my mouth before I thought.
    The boy saw my face plain as day. He was probably describing me to the police right now.
    As we watched, I wished for another fever to sweep me back out to the sea of nightmares. At least they weren’t real.

Chapter Eight
    I faked sleep for as long as I could. Candy was a super light sleeper. I had to remain exceedingly still so as not to wake her. By four in the morning, I couldn’t take it anymore. It felt like hissing cockroaches were scuttling under my skin. I had to get up.
    Candy didn’t stir as I crept out of the room. I checked in on Katie. She’d kicked her covers off and was clutching her Build-A-Bear purple pony.
    Sitting at the kitchen table, I went online to see if there’d been any developments in the story. I also wanted to see if anyone had discovered Marcellus’s body yet. If not, odds were high that it had been dragged off by some of the local wildlife, left to molder in the woods. He’d be declared a missing person before a corpse.
    I checked the Portland Press Herald , saw the