Daddy wasn't messing around. First thing he did when Ruby followed him out of the motel room and toward his truck was slap her across the face, and before she could fight back, he confused her by saying he was so proud of her and wanted her to come stay with him. With an inexplicable impression that she'd narrowly avoided some catastrophic, dismal future, the girl hadn't felt much like arguing anymore. She obliged her father and got up into the passenger side without so much as a word, even while her cheek stung prickles, and she paid only mild attention when he returned to the motel room, came back out with that hideous harlequin painting, and threw it into the bed of his truck before getting into the driver's seat.

Ruby kept quiet as they drove into town. She had no idea where her daddy stayed when he wasn't with them (and he was so seldom with them). She figured the drive could be quite far, as far as Mexico or Canada or even somewhere on the East Coast. He traveled, was all her mother ever said. So when they meandered through Lone Rock only to end up in the one nice neighborhood (where all the preppy school girls with their new shoes and brushed hair lived) and pulled up into the drive of a large cookie-cutter-designed house, Ruby was absolutely astounded. Surely the place belonged to someone Daddy knew, someone he worked for. But no. He didn't go around to a side or back door; he didn't ring a bell or even knock. He himself pulled a key from his pocket and opened the front door.

Amazed, the girl followed her father into the pristine home. It was far nicer than any house she'd ever been in—not a mansion by any stretch and yet proper size for a family of four or five, filled with well-kept modern furniture (not like the bits and pieces her mother had picked up off curbs and gleaned from dead neighbors over the years) and decor that served no other purpose than to add aesthetic pleasure. Ruby had always known such homes existed; she'd seen them on television. To actually be inside one, though, and one in which her father seemed fully comfortable, flipping switches and walking through rooms as if he owned the place . . . well, it was something out of a dream.

Also dream-like was the sheer reality of being with her father. In her entire life, Ruby had never spent more than a few hours in the man's presence, and even when she had been around him, she'd found herself typically tongue-tied. They'd never seemed to have much in common, her father being interested either in fucking her mother or in drinking before leaving.

"There. Wash up. You need it. And I got some clothes for you somewhere around here."

Daddy had directed Ruby to a bathroom, where there was a shower with glass so clean she could see right through it and towels as white as snow. She even noticed (when she lifted the lid after her father shut the door) that the toilet was clean enough to eat out of. She'd never seen such shiny porcelain. Every step she took into the space, she felt as if she were dirtying it.

So she did as her father had asked and took a hot shower. When she'd finished, the girl wrapped herself in one of the fluffy towels and stepped cautiously out of the bathroom to find on the floor some neatly folded clothing, a cream-colored skirt and a thick cream-colored sweater. She was somewhat disconcerted by the heaviness of the material, the monochromism, the fact that it was a few sizes too large, but she didn't want to disappoint her father. The whole situation was so odd, and she had no real notion of other options at the moment.

"Come on, girl," Daddy called from somewhere deeper within the house, startling his daughter. Ruby, wondering whether the man had some kind of magical eyes, hurried back into the bathroom to dress herself.

When she was done, she wandered until she found herself in the kitchen. The tiled floors and beautifully marbled counters lined with unknown appliances hurt something within Ruby; she didn't know exactly what she felt or why she felt it, only that this whole place caused a dull ache deep inside her stomach. Her father was standing against the kitchen island, drinking a mug of what smelled like coffee.

"Sit down," Daddy ordered, motioning to a stool nearby him.

Ruby tentatively followed instructions. Daddy watched her as he sipped his drink. Steam curled around his nose. A clock ticked somewhere.

"You're grown now, Ruby," the man said, not taking his eyes from her. "It's time you start getting serious about things. There's a lot you don't know about the world, and I'm taking it upon myself to fix that."

There was much Ruby could say, how Daddy had never cared about fixing anything before, how if she lacked knowledge of the world a lot of it was his fault, how the fact he cared now was weird, how he didn't have any sort of rights to her life after virtually ignoring her for all of it . . . but she didn't say any of those things. Daddy would've beat her, probably; she expected that, now, though she did figure she'd fight him back if he tried. But mostly she didn't say anything because she was thinking about Damien, about how she used to think about the two of them living somewhere like this one day, maybe not quite so nice but a place where they could be together, and thinking of him brought up a sadness so unbearbly overwhelming she nearly began to cry. She had to bite her knuckles and turn aside to stop herself.

"I know it's a lot to take in," her father misinterpreted her gesture, "but you and I, Ruby, we're going to change the world. We've got work to do, and I need your help."

She'd have to alter the subject or risk tears. "You never cared about me before, me and Whit!" She looked up at him, tried to adjust her tone so she didn't sound quite so accusatory. "He's gone, Daddy, and you never even cared about him. He probably got eaten dead by some coyotes, and nobody ever cared enough to find him. Don't you think about your own son? Me and Whit, we used to be together all the time. He was the only one I got. And," Ruby wiped at her nose, "and when he left I was all alone." Maybe had Whit been there to nag her, had Damien not felt the need to comfort her, things might have turned out differently.

"You're right, in some sense," Daddy replied, placing his mug on the counter. "But you're wrong about other things. I know what happened to your brother, Ruby."

The girl perked to attention, looked up and met the man's eye.

"He's gone."

"Dead?"

"Yes."

Ruby's chest began to beat. She'd feared finding out such news, though she'd known it was likely. "How? Was it the Kirks?"

"I knew you were clever. It was. Arlo. That youngest one."

The girl remembered Arlo trying to lure her brother away. She'd wondered, ever since . . . "He hurt Whit?" She could hardly get the words out.

A nearly imperceptible darkness flit across the man's face, and he answered her with a distance in him, looking somewhere not quite at her. "He did, Ruby. He touched your brother in immoral, disgusting ways, ways no child should ever know. Then he killed him and went home."

Ruby gasped in horror. She'd seen Arlo that night, looking all smug. And it was right after he'd hurt and killed her brother? Her little brother? Eleven years old, and she'd not been there. She'd been off worrying about that asshole, Damien. He'd destroyed her in so many ways, and he'd made her lose her brother, too. "No! How do you know it?"

"Because I took care of that monster. He thought he could get away with it, but I sent that demon straight back where he came from, and I hope he's getting as good as he gave right now and for all eternity."

The seething hatred beneath her father's words comforted Ruby. He was Whit's father; he should feel something for her brother's suffering. And it was good, if he'd taken care of Arlo. "I saw him—Arlo. I saw him all torn up into pieces. That was you that did it? Not a cougar like the police tried to say?"

"It was me."

The girl nodded at Daddy's confirmation. As strange as it was to be having a real conversation with her father for the first time in her life, there was a naturalness about it. Even so, the man's next comment reminded her of their strained relationship: "There's much you'll need to learn, Ruby, in order to help me with what I'm building. It's God's work, and He's chosen me—us, now—to do it."

"God?"

"You'll come to find out, girl."

Ruby flinched as Daddy reached a hand toward her face. He paused at her fear, but she stood her ground and allowed him to cup his fingers beneath her jaw. It was the closest thing to a loving gesture she'd ever received from him. She stared straight ahead, level with the upper button on her Daddy's dingy white shirt. His stubbly beard, his dark curling hair, the sun spots on his lined face—she held all of him in her periphery before he let go of her and turned away.

"I want you to stay here, now, while I go get us something to eat. Don't leave the house, you hear?"

She assured him she'd stay put after he told her there were enough channels on the flat screen television to occupy her for days, and once she'd heard the front door close and lock, she moved to the refrigerator to see whether there were any food inside. There was, she noticed, but most things she looked at had gone past their spoil date or looked too old to taste good. The pantry was better. She dug out a box of Cheezits and began wolfing down handfuls of crackers before reaching the living room. Hunger had caught up with her.

Ruby would've plopped right down and binged something trashy if she hadn't realized what the windows at the back of the house looked out on. Sparkling an enticing aqua blue beneath the sunshine was a beautiful bean-shaped swimming pool, complete with a slide and deck chairs and what appeared to be a little shed or hut. It was a poolhouse, Ruby realized, though she'd only seen such a thing once on a reality show. The gardens were lovely, too, lush with greenery the likes of which she'd never seen around the trailer park. Why, even out in the Alabama Hills, the dust kept everything brittle and sparse, but her Daddy's house had a veritable Garden of Eden for a backyard, and quite unexpectedly, she felt pride in one of her parents.

Why hadn't he brought Mama out here to live with him? Ruby wondered as she unfastened and slid aside a glass door. Clearly he'd done well for himself. The pride she'd felt only seconds earlier was quickly rebuffed by her anger. There'd been Mama and her and Whit all along, living in that junkheap, barely scraping by for food and electric bills, and who knew how long Daddy had been living right here like a king!

Well, he must've had his reasons. And what did it natter, now? He'd taken her in, and she could live in comfort, showering with hot water that didn't run out in three minutes and swimming in a glorious pool whenever she felt like it. When she found Damien again, he'd no doubt want to come see what her place was like. He'd want to stay over in it all the time! Of course, Daddy would be a problem. He clearly didn't like Damien. But surely her father wouldn't be around all the time; he'd have to work, to make money to keep up a house like this.

What did that man do all day? How had he been able to afford such a place? Ruby had always known he had a secret life, and she'd assumed it involved other families or at least other women, but that notion had begun to dissipate. The way Daddy had yelled at Mama that last time, the way he'd spoken to her just moments ago—Ruby hadn't ever taken her father for the religious sort, but she'd never known him much. Perhaps he'd always been God-fearing, but she herself wasn't. Mama never took them to church of any kind except once in a while when there was a donut day at one of the Christian churches in town. What was it Daddy had said? The two of them had been chosen for God's work, whatever that was. What sort of work could God possibly have for her?

Ruby shrugged. If God's work involved staying in a place like this and eating regular meals, she'd do whatever Daddy wanted. And she would have plenty of time to think up what to do about Damien.

Oh, God. She'd have to tell him what happened to her brother. Ruby began walking the perimeter of the pool, mesmerized by the pretty blue and white tiles that lined its insides. There were leaves and bits of plant floating in there, lots of bugs, too, she noticed. Daddy hadn't cleaned it in a while. Maybe he'd been too busy doing the Lord's work to take a swim. She giggled to herself but quickly stopped when she thought again of Whit.

The idea of not being there for him while that perverted Kirk brother somehow tortured him—the possible details of it all terrified her. She almost wished her father had told her what exactly Arlo had done; her imagination thought up such horrible things.

Whatever had happened, though, surely Whit was in Heaven. Ruby might not have particularly known much about God, but she couldn't stomach the thought that her clever, innocent, obnoxious but ultimately best-friend-of-a-little-brother was just a bunch of bones somewhere.

She'd reached the poolhouse. Ruby seated herself on the nearest deck chair and leaned back on it, relishing the warmth of the sunshine on her face. She still held the Cheezits box and reached in for another handful, but as she tossed a few into her mouth, she caught a smell of something that made her sit up and spit the food out onto the patio. Whatever it was, it was so foul Ruby nearly threw up. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she stopped breathing through her nose and got to her feet.

What in the world had it been? There didn't appear to be any trash bins outside, and there was no visible source of the stench, like a dead animal or something. She moved around the bushes and plants, trying to figure out what exactly she'd caught whiff of, regretting each time she accidentally inhaled through her nostrils. And then it occurred to her, suddenly—the poolhouse. It wasn't very large, about the size of a backyard shed, but it was charming, with little boxes of flowers at its curtained windows and a painted door. Maybe the odor had come from there, she thought. Perhaps Daddy had left some food or some wet clothes inside, or maybe he'd even tossed in something that'd drowned in the pool and forgotten it was there. Why he'd do that, she didn't know, but she really couldn't think of much else.

Hesitating in front of the small building, Ruby lowered the hand from her face and licked the salt off her lips. She breathed only through her mouth, in and out, in and out, as she reached with shaking fingers toward the knob.

The door opened easily, pushed inward, revealing a small, dark space not dark enough to hide what was inside. The box fell from Ruby's hand, scattering little orange squares across the patio, but she was too busy looking at the stacked bodies of two adults and three children, pale and gaping and foul, to think anything else about sating her hunger.