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found that both incredible and inexplicable； but it seemed to be true。 And Mr Gray liked that just fine。 He didn't even bother to look for the reason why Overhill/Underhill and Henry might be stopping。
Mr Gray's main concern was switching to another vehicle； a snowplow； if Jonesy's driving skills would allow him to operate it。 It would mean another murder； but that was all right with the increasingly human Mr Gray。
Mr Gray was just getting warmed up。
5
Owen Underhill is standing on the slope very near to the pipe which juts out of the foliage； and he sees them help the muddy； wild…eyed girl … Josie … out of the pipe。 He sees Duddits （a large young man with shoulders like a football player's and the improbable blonde hair of a movie idol） sweep her into a hug； kissing her dirty face in big smacks。 He hears her first words： 'I want to see my Mommy。'
It's good enough for the boys； there's no call to the police； no call for an ambulance。 They simply help her up the slope； through the break in the board fence； across Strawford Park （the girls in yellow have been replaced by girls in green； neither they nor their coach pay any attention to the boys or their filthy； draggle…haired prize）； and then down Kansas Street to Maple Lane。 They know where Josie's Mommy is。 Her Daddy； too。
Not just the Rinkenhauers； either。 When the boys get back； there are cars parked the length of the block on both sides of the Cavell house。 Roberta was the one who proposed calling the parents of Josie's friends and classmates。 They will search on their own； and they will paper the town with the MISSING； posters； she says。 Not in shadowy； out…of…the…way places （which is where missing children posters in Derry tend to wind up） either； but where people must see them。 Roberta's enthusiasm is enough to light some faint hope in the eyes of Ellen and Hector Rinkenhauer。
The other parents respond； too … it is as if they have just been waiting to be asked。 The calls started shortly after Duddits and his friends trooped out the door （to play； Roberta assumed； and someplace close by； because Henry's old jalopy is still parked in the driveway）； and by the time the boys return； there are almost two dozen people crammed into the Cavells' living room； drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes。 The man currently addressing them is a guy Henry has seen before； a lawyer named Dave Bocklin。 His son； Kendall； sometimes plays with Duddits。 Ken Bocklin also has Down's； and he's a good enough guy； but he's not like Duds。 Get serious； though … who is？
The boys stand at the entrance to the living room； Josie among them。 She is once more carrying her great big purse； with BarbieKen tucked away inside。 Even her face is almost clean； because Beaver； seeing all the cars； has done a little work on it with his handkerchief out in the driveway。 （'Tell you what； it made me feel funny；' the Beav confides later； after all the hoopdedoo and fuckaree has died down。 'Here I'm cleanin up this girl； she's got the bod of a Playboy Bunny and the brain； roughly speaking； of a lawn…sprinkler。'） At first no one sees them but Mr Bocklin； and Mr Bocklin doesn't seem to realize what he's looking at； because he goes right on talking。
'So what we need to do； folks； is divide up into a number of teams； let's say three couples to each 。 。 。 each team 。 。 。 and we'll 。 。 。 we 。 。 。 we Mr Bocklin slows like one of those toys you need to wind up and then just stands there in front of the Cavells' TV； staring。 There's a nervous rustle among the hastily assembled parents； who don't understand what can be wrong with him … he was going along so confidently。
'Joise；' he says in a flat； uninflected voice utterly unlike his usual confident courthouse boom。
'Yes；' says Hector Rinkenhauer； 'that's her name。 What's up； Dave？ Are you all r…'
'Josie；' Dave says again； and raises a trembling hand。 To Henry （and hence to Owen； who is seeing this through Henry's eyes） he looks like the Ghost of Christmas Yet to e pointing at Ebenezer Scrooge's grave。
One face turns 。 。 。 two。 。 。 four 。 。 。 Alfie Cavell's eyes； huge and unbelieving behind his specs 。 。 。 and finally； Mrs Rinkenhauer's。
'Hi； Mom；' Josie says nonchalantly。 She holds up her purse。 'Duddie found my BarbieKen。 I was stuck in a…'
The rest is blotted out by the woman's shriek of joy。 Henry has never heard such a cry in his life； and although it is wonderful； it is also somehow terrible。
'Fuck me Freddy；' Beaver says 。 。 。 low； under his breath。 Jonesy is holding Duddits； who has been frightened by the scream。
Pete looks at Henry and gives a little nod： We did okay。
And Henry nods back。 Yeah； we did。
It may not have been their finest hour； but surely it is a close second。 And as Mrs Rinkenhauer sweeps her daughter into her arms； now sobbing； Henry taps Duddits on the arm。 When Duddits turns to look at him； Henry kisses him softly on the cheek。 Good old Duddits； Henry thinks。 Good old…
6
'This is it； Owen；' Henry said quietly。 'Exit 27。'
Owen's vision of the Cavell living room popped like a soap bubble and he looked at the looming sign： KEEP RIGHT FOR EXIT 27 … KANSAS STREET。 He could still hear the woman's happy； unbelieving cries echoing in his ears。
'You okay？' Henry asked。
'Yeah。 At least I guess so。' He turned up the exit ramp； the Humvee shouldering its way through the snow。 The clock built into the dashboard had gone as dead as Henry's wristwatch； but he thought he could see the faintest lightening in the air。 'Right or left at the top of the ramp？ Tell me now； because I don't want to risk stopping。'
'Left； left。'
Owen swung the Hummer left under a dancing blinker…light； rode it through another skid； and then moved south on Kansas Street。 It had been plowed； and not that long ago； but it was drifting in again already。
'Snow's letting up；' Henry said。
'Yeah； but the wind's a bitch。 You're looking forward to seeing him； aren't you？ Duddits。'
Henry grinned。 'A little nervous about it； but yeah。' He shook his head。 'Duddits； man 。 。 。 Duddits just makes you feel good。 He's a tribble。 You'll see for yourself I just wish we weren't busting in like this at the crack of dawn。'
Owen shrugged。 Can't do anything about it； the gesture said。
'They've been over here on the west side for four years； I guess； and I've never even been to the new place。' And； without even realizing； went on in mindspeak： They moved after Alfie died。
Did you … And then； instead of words； a picture： people in black under black umbrellas。 A graveyard in the rain。 A coffin on trestles with R。I。P。 ALFIE carved on top。
No； Henry said； feeling ashamed。 None of us did。
But Henry didn't know why they hadn't gone； although a phrase occurred to him： The moving finger writes； and having writ； moves on。 Duddits had been an important （he guessed the word he actually wanted was vital） part of their childhood。 And once that link was broken； going back would have been painful。 Painful was one thing； uselessly painful another。 He understood something now。 The images he associated with his depression and his growing certainty of suicide … the trickle of milk on his father's chin； Barry Newman hustling his doublewide butt out of the office … had been hiding another； more potent； image all along： the dreamcatcher。 Hadn't that been the real source of his despair？ The grandiosity of the dreamcatcher concept coupled to the banality of the uses to which the concept had been put？ Using Duddits to find Josie Rinkenhauer had been like discovering quantum physics and then using it to build a video game。 Worse； discovering that was really all quantum physics was good for。 Of course they had done a good thing … without them； Josie Rinkenhauer would have died in that pipe like a rat in a rainbarrel。 But … e on … it wasn't as if they'd rescued a future Nobel Peace Prize winner…
I can't follow everything that just went through your head； Owen said； suddenly deep in Henry's mind； but it sounds pretty goddam arrogant。 Which street？
Stung； Henry glared at him。 'We haven't been back to see him lately； okay？ Could we just leave it at that？'
'Yes；' Owen said。
'Bu