“What?”

“That’s what the text says. ‘You take care of the kids.’”

“So?”

“So Corinne never called Thomas and Ryan the kids.” He smiled even as his heart sank. “It was always the boys. That’s what they were. Not her kids. Her boys. Corinne never wrote that text. You did. You killed her and then you sent that text so no one would start looking for her right away.”

“That’s your proof?” Tripp almost laughed. “You really think anyone is going to believe that crazy story?”

“Doubt it.”

Adam lifted the gun out of his pocket and took aim.

Tripp’s eyes went wide. “Whoa, just calm down and listen a second.”

“I don’t really need to hear more of your lies, Tripp.”

“Just . . . Becky is meeting me here in a few minutes.”

“Oh, good.” Adam moved the gun closer to the man’s face. “What would your little philosophizing say about that? Eye for an eye maybe?”

For the first time, Tripp Evans’s mask slipped off and Adam could see the darkness beneath. “You wouldn’t hurt her.”

Adam just stared at him. Tripp stared back. For a second, neither of them moved. Then something changed in Tripp. Adam could see it. Tripp began to nod to himself. He leaned back and grabbed his car keys.

“Let’s go,” Tripp said.

“What?”

“I don’t want you here when Becky arrives. Let’s go.”

“So where are we going?”

“You wanted the truth, right?”

“If this is some sort of trick . . .”

“It’s not. You’ll see the truth with your own eyes, Adam. Then you can do whatever you want. That’s the deal. But we gotta go right now. I don’t want Becky hurt, do you understand?”

They started out the door. Adam walked a step behind. He kept the gun on Tripp for a few seconds, but then he realized how that might look if someone walked by, so he put the gun in his jacket pocket. He still pointed it at Tripp through the pocket, like some guy in a bad movie using his finger to pretend he had a gun.

When they stepped outside, a familiar Dodge Durango pulled into the lot. Both men froze as Becky pulled in. Tripp whispered, “If you touch a hair on her head . . .”

“Just get rid of her,” Adam said.

Becky Evans had the cheerful smile on her face. She waved with too much enthusiasm and pulled up next to them.

“Hey, Adam,” Becky called out.

She was still so damn cheerful.

“Hey, Becky.”

“What are you doing here?”

Adam looked toward Tripp. Tripp said, “Something came up with the sixth-grade boys’ game.”

“I thought that was tomorrow night.”

“Well, that’s just it. We might get kicked out of the whole tournament because of some registration problem. Adam and I are just going to take a ride over there and see if we can work it out.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. We were going to go out to dinner.”

“We still will, hon. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or two. We’ll go to Baumgart’s when I get home, okay? Just the two of us.”

Becky nodded, but for the first time, the smile faltered. “Sure.” She turned to Adam. “Take care, Adam.”

“You too.”

“Give my best to Corinne. We really need to go out soon, the four of us.”

Adam managed to say, “I’d like that.”

With another cheery wave, Becky drove off. Tripp watched her. His eyes were wet. When she was out of sight, he started walking again. Adam followed. Tripp took out his key and unlocked the car. He got in on the driver’s side. Adam took the seat next to him. He pulled the gun out of his pocket and pointed it at Tripp again. Tripp seemed calmer now. He hit the accelerator and started out on Route 3.

“Where are we going?” Adam asked.

“Mahlon Dickerson Reservation.”

“Near Lake Hopatcong?”

“Yes.”

“Corinne’s family used to have a house there,” Adam said. “When she was little.”

“I know. Becky went with her when they were in third grade. It’s why I chose it.”

Adam’s adrenaline began to ebb. The dull, thudding ache in his head returned with renewed energy. Dizziness and exhaustion sapped him. Tripp veered onto Interstate 80. Adam blinked and gripped the gun tighter. He knew this ride and calculated that they were about a half hour away from the reservation. The sun had started to set, but they probably had another hour at least of daylight.

His cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID and saw it was Johanna Griffin. He didn’t answer it. They drove some more in silence. When they reached the exit for Route 15, Tripp said, “Adam?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t ever threaten my family.”

“Ironic,” Adam said, “coming from you.”

Tripp turned, met his eye, and said it again: “Don’t ever threaten my family.”

His tone sent a chill down Adam’s back.

Tripp Evans turned back to the road. He had both hands on the wheel. He took Weldon Road and then veered off onto a dirt road into the woods. He parked up along the trees and turned off the ignition. Adam kept his gun ready.

“Come on,” Tripp said, opening the car door. “Let’s get this over with.”

He stepped out of the car. Adam did the same, making sure to keep the gun pointed at Tripp. If he was going to try something, here, alone in the woods, was probably his best chance. But Tripp didn’t hesitate. He trekked into the woods. There was no path, but they could still make their way. Tripp walked steadily, with purpose. Adam tried to keep up, but in his condition, it was hard going. He wondered whether this would be Tripp’s big move—to get farther and farther ahead of him and then make a run for it, maybe sneak up on Adam as it got darker.

“Slow down,” Adam said.

“You want the truth, don’t you?” Tripp’s tone was almost singsong. “Keep up.”

“Your office,” Adam said.

“What about it? Oh, it’s a shit hole, is that what you’re thinking?”

“I thought you’d done well at some big Madison Avenue firm,” Adam said.

“I was there for about five minutes before they laid me off. See, I always figured that I’d have a job for life with my dad’s sporting goods store. Put all my eggs in that basket. When that went south, I lost everything. Yeah, I tried to put out my own shingle, but, well, you just saw the results of that.”

“You were broke.”

“Yep.”

“And there was enough money in the lacrosse treasury.”

“Way more than enough. You know Sydney Gallonde? Rich guy I went to Cedarfield High with? Sucked at lacrosse. Rode the bench. He gave us a hundred grand because I worked him. Me. There were other donors too. When I came in, the organization could barely buy a goalpost. Now we have turf fields and uniforms and . . .” Tripp stopped talking. “I guess you think I’m just rationalizing again.”

“You are.”

“Maybe, Adam. But you’re not naïve enough to think the world is black-and-white.”

“Hardly.”

“It is always us against them. That’s what all of life is. We fight wars for that reason. We make decisions every day to protect our own loved ones, even if it means hardships for others. You buy your boy a new pair of cleats for lacrosse. Maybe you could have used that money to save a starving child in Africa. But no, you let that child starve. Us against them. We all do this.”

“Tripp?”

“What?”

“This really isn’t a good time for your bullshit.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Tripp stopped in the middle of the woods, knelt down, and started feeling his way around on the ground. His hand pushed away the brush and leaves. Adam readied his gun and took two steps back.

“I’m not going to attack you, Adam. There’s no need.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for something. . . . Ah, here it is.”

He stood up.

Holding a shovel.

Adam’s legs went rubbery. “Oh no. . . .”

Tripp just stood there. “You were right. In the end, it came to my family or yours. Only one could survive. So let me ask you, Adam. What would you have done?”

Adam just shook his head. “No. . . .”