Chapter 9: Joyce Byers Does Not Require Your Belief

The morning was barely light when Holmes left Owens sleeping in the chair and El sleeping in the bed and walked the six blocks to Joyce Byers's house with his coat collar turned up against an October chill that carried the particular damp weight of a season that had already made its decision.

He had not slept. He was not certain he had breathed with any regularity in the last two hours.

He had, however, assembled a list.