Until that summer, the childhood event in the Snake River cabin gun closet had been sealed in a time capsule somewhere deep in his neurology, shut in and cauterized to keep it from infecting the rest of the organism. It had been explained to him by the same navy psychologist who taught him the term “lacunar amnesia.”
Finn didn’t need to drive around the country. He was pretty sure his business was all right here in the capital city. A quarter percent of the country’s landmass, roughly ten miles by ten miles. About the size of Fort Wayne, Indiana, with less than half the population.