"Okay." Keith turned onto the road, which was barely wide enough for the truck, and the pine boughs brushed both sides of the cab. Off to the left, through the pines, Keith caught a glimpse of the lake itself. A bright, nearly full moon had risen, and the lake indeed looked gray, like polished pewter. It was maybe a mile across, totally surrounded by pine with a few bare birch at the water's edge. He saw no lights from boats or from houses in the pines.

Truly, he thought, this was a spectacular piece of the world, but it was very far removed from Michigan's other recreational areas, and Keith wondered what Annie thought of her husband buying a place in this wilderness. It occurred to him that, for people used to the endless horizons and big blue sky of farm country, this place must feel claustrophobic and nearly spooky, and it was probably hell in the winter. Baxter, however, would feel at home here, Keith realized, a timberwolf in his element.

Keith spotted a cabin through the trees that looked uninhabited, and he suspected that most of these places were probably weekend homes, and, for all he knew, there wasn't a single human being around the lake other than he and Billy, and Cliff and Annie Baxter, which was fine with him, he thought. Before dawn, the population of Grey Lake would be zero.

The road curved around the lake, and, again, Keith caught a glimpse of it to his left, then the road turned north again, away from the lake, and Keith pulled over.

Billy said, "There's got to be a road wide enough for a truck to get through someplace back there."

"Right." Unable to make a U-turn, Keith backed up, looking for an opening in the pine trees and brush. There were utility poles along the narrow road, and Keith tried to spot an electric line or telephone wire that ran from a pole toward the lake.

Finally, Keith nudged the pickup off the road onto a narrow drainage shoulder, leaving room for another vehicle to pass. He got out of the truck, and Billy followed. It was cold, Keith noticed, and he could see his breath. It was also quiet, a typical autumn evening in the northern woods, with no sounds of insects, birds, or animals, and it was dark and would stay that way until the first snows brightened the land and the trees.

Keith and Billy walked along the road for a hundred yards, searching for an opening in the pine trees that was wide enough for a vehicle to pass through. Billy said softly, "Maybe we should just take a compass heading through the woods and get down to the lake and look around."

"That might be the thing to do. Let's get our gear."

They walked back toward the truck, and Keith kept looking up at the utility poles. He stopped, tapped Billy on the shoulder, and pointed.

Billy stared up at the dark sky. A squirrel was making its way along an electric wire that was nearly invisible among the dark shadows of the pine trees. The wire ran toward the lake. Under the wire was another one, probably the telephone line, Keith thought.

Billy said, "That definitely goes to the lake, but they always run along a road, and I don't see no road."

Keith stood near the utility pole, then walked into the woods and grasped an eight-foot-tall white pine by its trunk, shook it, then pulled it out of the ground.

Billy looked at the base of the sawed-off trunk and said, "Jeez... this guy must be a gook."

Keith kicked another pine, and it tumbled. Someone, undoubtedly Cliff Baxter, had camouflaged the narrow dirt road that led to his lodge with cut pine trees, each about eight or ten feet high. There were about a dozen of them implanted into the dirt road, running back about twenty feet, giving the impression of a continuous forest. They were still green, Keith noticed, and would stay green for weeks, but they were slightly tilted and smaller than the surrounding pines.

Keith also noticed that where the dirt road met the blacktop was strewn with deadwood and pine boughs to conceal the tire ruts leading into the hidden road. Not a great job, Keith thought, but good enough to keep a lost or curious driver from turning into the road that led to Baxter's lodge.

Keith looked around and found a signpost that had been chopped at the base and pushover onto the ground. There was no sign on the post that said, "Big Chief Cliff's Lodge," but Keith was certain there had been.

It was obvious, Keith thought, that Cliff Baxter wanted no visitors, casual or otherwise. And the same laboriously transplanted pine trees that kept people out kept Baxter from making occasional forays into the outside world. So there was no chance of staking out the road, waiting for Baxter to leave for a while, and rescuing Annie without putting her in danger of a fight. Apparently, Baxter had everything he needed for a long stay. The essential questions, of course, were, Did he also have Annie and was she alive? Keith was almost certain that he did have her, and she was alive, if not well. This was the whole point of Baxter's flight to this remote lodge — to imprison his unfaithful wife and to take out his anger and rage on her without any interference from the outside world.

It occurred to Keith that ultimately, regardless of Keith Landry — or someone like him — this was where the Baxters were destined to end up, sooner, if not later, though Annie may or may not have understood the psychological subtext of this hunting lodge and future retirement home. He recalled something she'd said. The few times we went up there alone, without the kids or without company, he was another person. Not necessarily better, and not actually worse... just another person... quiet, distant, as if he's... I don't know... thinking of something. I don't like to go up there with him alone, and I can usually get out of it.

One could only imagine, Keith thought, what Cliff Baxter was thinking about. One could only hope that whatever he'd done to Annie in the last three days, to her mind and her body, was not permanent or scarring.

Keith and Billy went back to the pickup and collected their gear, then returned to the place where the camouflaged road began. They both knew not to walk through the camouflage or on the open dirt road beyond it, and they entered the woods to the right of the road and began walking on a parallel course to it, keeping it in view when they could. They maintained their heading with the compass and an occasional sighting of the small utility poles that ran along the road.

After about fifteen minutes of slow progress, Keith stopped and knelt down, listening to the forest. Billy knelt beside him and they stayed motionless for a full five minutes. Finally, Billy whispered, "Sounds okay, smells okay, feels okay."

Keith nodded.

Still whispering, Billy said, "I know that camouflage back there looks like Baxter's work, but how we gonna be sure the house at the end of those wires is his? We don't know what it looks like, and we ain't gonna knock before we shoot."

Keith said, "It's an A-frame, dark wood, set back from the lake."

"Yeah? You know more than you say, don't you?" He added, "Typical officer."

Keith replied, "I think you know everything I know now. I told you up front this was going to be dangerous."

"Yeah, you did."

"I'll tell you something else — I took you along for you, not for me. But I appreciate the help."

"Thanks."

"If I take you the rest of the way, I want you to promise me that you'll finish the job if I'm not able to."

Billy looked at Keith and nodded. "You know I got my own reasons, and you got yours... so if one of us is down, the other guy's gonna give it his best shot."

Keith hesitated, then said, "Okay... and if it turns out at the end that it's just you and her, you tell her... whatever."

"Yeah, I'll tell her whatever." He asked, "Anything in particular?"

There was, but Keith said, "Just tell her about today."