Footsteps paused outside the entrance to the men's room. This was at a rest area in South Dakota, shortly after three in the morning. In the harsh overhead light, I stood at a urinal. At that quiet hour, sounds were magnified. That was probably the only reason I noticed the footsteps approaching. Waiting for them to resume, I looked over my shoulder, past the toilet stalls, toward the door on my right. The place had the chill of concrete after the heat of the day had faded.

I waited for the door to swing open. The silence beyond it grew. Still peering over my shoulder, I zipped up my pants. I went over to the sink and washed my hands, fixing my gaze on the mirror before me, which gave a direct view of the door. There weren't any paper towels, only one of those power dryers that force warm air over wet hands. They sound like a jet engine. Needing to hear everything, I didn't press its button.

As my fingers tingled from the water on them, I stared toward the door. The silence beyond it persisted. It's only a tired driver who pulled into the rest area, I thought. He didn't need to relieve himself, just to stretch his legs. He's standing out there, enjoying the stars.

And if I'm wrong?

I told myself I was overreacting. After all, I didn't have any firm reason to believe that someone was out there waiting to surprise me when I opened the door. But I'd been in the foulness of Petey's mind for so long, imitating his movements, re-creating his logic, stalking rest areas, that I couldn't subdue the suspicion. My imagination was so primed that I could feel the danger out there as if it were seeping through the wall.

When I'd parked outside, mine had been the only vehicle, an attraction to a predator. He was listening for voices, for more than one set of footsteps, wanting to make sure I was alone. Hearing only me, he'd soon push the door open. I thought of the pistol in the suitcase in my car and cursed myself for being a fool. What good was learning how to use it if I put it where I couldn't get it if I needed the damned thing?

My legs were feathery. I trembled. No! I thought. What if I'd tracked down Petey? What if he was outside that door?

I pushed the button on the hand dryer. Its harsh roar obscured my footsteps as I shifted toward the back of the door. Braced against the wall, I felt a spurt of fear in my stomach as the door swung open.

A man in his mid-twenties, wearing cowboy boots, jeans, and a cowboy hat came quickly in, holding a tire iron. The door swung shut behind him as he stopped at the sight of the empty rest room. Puzzled, he stared at the roaring hand dryer. He peered toward the toilet stalls.

Abruptly he saw my reflection in the mirror over the sink. He tried to turn. I was already rushing, slamming his back with such force that he hurtled forward, his mustached face hitting the mirror, smashing it into shards. Blood streaked the mirror as I grabbed him by the back of his collar and his thick belt, ramming him toward the hand dryer, driving his head against it so powerfully that the nozzle on the fan broke off. The dryer kept roaring as I backed him up and drove his head against it even harder. Blood sprayed from the force of the unshielded fan. The tire iron fell from his hand, clanging on the concrete floor. I slammed his head once more and dropped him. He lay like a pile of old clothes. Eyes shut, he moaned. Except for the rise and fall of his chest, he barely moved.

My stomach was on fire. The anger that had brought me close to killing him frightened me. But the emotion that primarily seized me, making me want to shout, was that I'd won.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation," the receptionist said.

"Special Agent Gader, please." I gripped my cell phone so tightly that my fingers ached.

It was nine in the morning. Sunlight glinted off a secluded lake surrounded by lumpy bluffs studded with pine trees. The ridges were dark gray stone, making it clear how the Black Hills had gotten their name. I'd reached this area before dawn, but when I'd noticed that the map indicated only barren open land beyond them, I'd decided that Petey would have stopped earlier than he'd planned, going to ground for the day.

The beauty of the lake looked odd to me. After what had happened at the rest area, I felt as if I'd stepped into an alternate reality.

"Agent Gader is out of town on an assignment."

I picked up a rock. Frustration made me hurl it at the lake.

"May I ask who's calling?" the woman asked.

"Brad Denning. I-"

"Agent Gader mentioned that you'd be contacting him. He said that he'd spoken to Mr. Payne about the matter you were interested in, and if you'd talk to-"

I broke the connection.

"I guess you haven't been back to Woodford in a while," Payne said.

Pressing the cell phone to my ear, I walked close to the lake. Its cool air drifted over me. My beard stubble scraped against my hand. I worked to calm myself. "Not since my mother and I moved away when I was a kid."

"How big was it then?"

"Not very. About ten thousand people."

"A one-factory town," Payne said.

"That's right. My dad was a foreman." I suddenly missed him so much. "How did you know?"

"Because Gader says the factory shut down and went to Mexico ten years ago. Now Woodford's a bedroom community for Columbus, and its population has doubled to twenty thousand. There are several dentists, but none of them ever heard of the Denning family."

The air at the lake became colder. "But surely they know the dentists who worked there before them."

"Nope. Gader says you don't remember the name of the dentist you went to or his address."

My head throbbed. "It was too long ago."

"Then it's a dead end. Gader says he's sorry."

"Yeah, I bet."

"He says if you're relying on dental records to prove that Lester Dant is really your brother using an alias, you're setting yourself up for a big disappointment. Anyway, how's that going to help find your family?"

"I don't know, but I can think of words that are a whole lot stronger than disappointment."

The cell phone's reception became staticky.

"Where are you calling from?" Payne asked.

"South Dakota."

"Nice there?"

"I didn't come for the scenery," I said.

"Well, as long as you're determined to be on the road, do you want some advice?"

"Provided it's not Take it easy and get some rest.'"

"No, something else. This might surprise you," Payne said. "It'll sound like encouragement."

"Then go ahead and surprise me."

"Until I put on all this weight and I got to relying on the Internet," Payne said, "I was a hands-on kind of investigator. That's why I noticed things others didn't. When there's time, nothing beats going to the places and people you want to know about."

" 'When there's time.'"

"Which you seem to have plenty of."

"You're suggesting that if I'm determined to find that dentist, I should do it myself?"

"More or less."

"You're right-it does sound like encouragement. Why the change?"

"Because I'm worried about you."

The reception became staticky again. I listened hard.

"I'm afraid, if you don't satisfy yourself one hundred percent that you've done everything you can, if you lose hope…"

I strained to hear, but the static became worse.

"… you'll destroy yourself."

"I'll get back to you later in the week," I said.

"What? I can't hear you."

I broke the connection.