He walked toward the opposite slope, moving more quickly across this solid ground. He felt terribly exposed—if the moon should reemerge now, he’d be caught out, nothing to hide behind, nowhere to go, like a burglar in someone’s kitchen with the light switched on. But soon he reached a cluster of rocks and slipped safety behind them. He sat down, ignoring his wet foot and throbbing knee, and ate a handful of peanuts, feeling the energy course through him, the needed fuel. He checked the rifle to make sure that nothing had broken or jammed; checked that the safety was on. And while there was no way it could have fallen out, he also checked the ammunition.

He tried to imagine what A.J. would do, tried to get inside his head. A.J. had to have known that he hit one of them; he would have seen them dragging Oscar behind the rocks. So he knew that one of them was hurt, maybe dying. If Oscar was dead, they could leave his body, but if he wasn’t, they’d never leave him—especially not with someone coming after them. So A.J. knew they would continue up the slope, but when? It would be hard in the dark, with no trail and an injured man, and a slope that was treacherous even in daytime. If they waited until daylight, though, they’d be easy to pick off. So it would make sense for them to leave in the dark, or as close to dawn as possible. It seemed that A.J. should try to make his way up the slope in the dark, so what was stopping him? Maybe he thought he’d be too clear of a target, coming up the slope unprotected. Maybe he was still suffering from the effects of his beating. Or maybe he knew that he could easily overtake them, even if they got an earlier start.

Then another thought occurred to Todd and chilled him to the bone. What if someone was coming from the other direction? Just over the crest of the mountains was the Owens Valley, and a string of small, lonely high-desert towns. A.J. could have called or signaled someone who was now coming from the east. The same way that Tracy and the others were heading out of the range, someone could be heading in to cut off their escape. Maybe that’s why A.J. could afford to stay still. Maybe he knew he had them trapped, like a base runner caught between bases, the fielders slowly closing the gap.

But maybe not. The satellite phones seemed spotty out here, and of course there was no cell reception. A.J. was probably alone. Or joined only by his brother coming in from the west. Tracy and the others would be safe going east. This is what he had to tell himself.

He walked along the valley floor, the land rising on either side. Behind him, the big peaks loomed but the range was now shrouded in darkness. If the others were moving, they were totally hidden, and this, he decided, was why the shooter stayed still. Looking east, everything was dark and obscured. West, any movement would be visible.

He reached the edge of the woods and skirted around to the left until he came to a granite boulder with a sprig of plants beside it. This was the point where they had entered the woods yesterday morning, and it was a good place to enter again. He remembered roughly the path they’d taken under the cover of trees, how long it was before they’d reached the house-sized boulders. But when he stepped in from the open sky and into the shelter of the woods, he realized that this would be different. Away from even the small light of the moon and the stars, this world was almost totally dark. He waited for his eyes to adjust but in the black of night, all of the trees looked the same. A minute in, he spun around and wasn’t sure which direction he’d come from. Finally he righted himself and held out one arm, reaching to touch trees before he walked into them. Each step he took was painfully slow; he lowered his feet gently so as not to snap a twig.

He walked this way for twenty minutes and covered very little ground. He was hungry and thirsty, but afraid to open his bag of nuts; any sound was amplified in the dark. Now he stopped and reconsidered his strategy. How close did he want to get to this guy? How close could he get, really? He couldn’t shoot him in the dark unless he was right on top of him, and there was no way he could get that close without being detected. He needed to be within range, but at a safe distance. And the only way he could do that would be with light.

And A.J. could be anywhere, anywhere in these woods, or if he’d left already, anywhere in the canyon. Todd might have walked right past him already and not even known it.

But he didn’t think so. He thought he knew where he was. A.J. had already shown his patterns. He’d stayed in the camps they’d made, at the trailhead and at the lake; he’d liked stalking them that way, sleeping where they’d slept, drawing energy from their presence. He’d be in the clearing where they’d fallen asleep yesterday morning. Protected by the house-sized rocks.

Once Todd thought this, he knew it was true. He would find A.J. where they had slept themselves, enjoying being where they’d been, waiting until first light when he could see well enough to follow. A.J. hadn’t needed to finish them off right away; he liked knowing they were waiting, afraid. He was like the neighbor’s cat, who sometimes, since the passing of Roger, came into their yard to hunt. Tossing a defenseless mouse up in the air and batting it around, letting it scamper away for a couple of feet before catching it and sinking his teeth in. Yes, he would be in the clearing, waiting for light. As soon as Todd knew this, he could feel him there, breathing.

Todd made his way slowly to the left of where they’d been that morning. He would circle around and approach the clearing from the opposite side, which would give him a clear view between the rocks. It was painstakingly slow movement, step by agonizing step, as he tried not to make a sound when he walked. Once the butt of the rifle bounced against a tree, and Todd cursed under his breath. It was dark—consuming, lonely dark—and by the time he saw the massive shape of the boulders, an hour had passed since he had entered the woods.

He kept a distance of about fifty feet from the boulders and circled around to the left. He got to an area on the opposite side and stayed there, not approaching the boulders or the gap between. He’d wait here out of sight until the sky began to lighten. He shielded his watch so that no light would be visible and then pressed a button. The illuminated face said 2:37.

He sat down and leaned back against a tree. Now that he’d stopped moving, he felt cold; he burrowed into his jacket. Images passed before them—Gwen lying down on the riverbank their first day out, the view back toward the lake when they’d reached their first pass. A.J. tied up at the pot garden, and José lying dead on the ledge. Then other things, home things: sitting at the kitchen table with the Sunday paper, Kelly sunning in the garden, Joey hitting a baseball, Brooke playing with her dolls. He saw Rachel from work, and remembered the Colsons. How distant it all felt now.

If he didn’t get out of here alive, he thought, he’d had a good life. More success than he’d ever imagined. A beautiful family, two great kids. If it turned out badly in the morning and A.J. killed him, at least he’d left things in order for his family. At least he would have died trying to save other people, instead of falling to a heart attack or cancer. He’d be remembered as a guy who’d been brave enough to take on a killer. He’d be remembered not as an even-tempered corporate lawyer, but as a guy who took things into his own hands, who died fighting, like a man.

He startled awake. What time was it? 4:47. He’d dozed off, damnit, but it was probably all right; the sky was still dark. Dark, but he could make out the shapes of the trees now. Just a few more minutes and he should go.

He shook his head, trying to wake up, and then extended his legs, which were stiff. Holding on to the tree for stability, he slowly stood up, moving by inches so as not to make noise. The dark shapes of the big boulders were clearly visible. He waited five minutes, ten, until he could make out individual branches, and then he slowly moved over behind one of the boulders. He felt the surface of the granite and this shocked him awake; he pressed his cheek against its cold roughness. This is surreal, he thought. It can’t really be happening. But it was. He touched his forehead to the granite and said a short prayer. Then he moved slowly to the right, close-hugging the rock, until he could look into the clearing.