“No,” Becky shook her head. “You need to listen to me. It’s Randy Cutter.” She looked at Wylie, terror in her eyes. “He’s outside right now. I know him. I know his voice, dammit, I’ve heard it nearly every day for the last twenty years.” Wylie stared at Becky and then looked to the little girl for confirmation. She nodded. “Jesus,” Wylie breathed. Randy Cutter? It didn’t make any sense.”
