He’d taken her car, driving north, intending to slip across the Canadian border.

But what good would that do? That was crazy thinking. He needed to find a way to make this stop. He needed to think. He’d needed to sleep. Luckily there were more places to hide up here in the northern woods than anywhere he knew. He’d tucked the car into a clearing and managed to get a little rest.

But now the sun was up and he needed to make some choices. Where do I go? Who do I trust? He picked up his cell phone. He’d removed the battery while he slept, not really sure if anyone could use it to find him.

He replaced the battery, then blinked when he saw all the texts. People had been trying to reach him for hours. His mother. Trust the police.

Kenny. Believe the police.

The police. We’re not going to hurt you.

And Kenny again. Cops took my old fon. They lie. Don’t trust them.

Austin turned off his phone, scared and confused, but knowing nothing was going to change if he sat here. Answers were in Minneapolis. So that’s where he’d go.

Wednesday, September 22, 8:00 a.m.

David was surprised to find Tom waiting for him in the firehouse lounge. His nephew lurched to his feet, his face bent in a frown. “Are you okay?” Tom asked.

David signed in and headed straight for the coffee. “Hard night, but I’m fine.”

“I heard on the TV about Zell. Any news?”

“I called the hospital on my way in. They said he was unchanged.” David poured them both cups of coffee and handed one to Tom. “I guess we won’t know anything for a day or two. You remember Detective Kane, Olivia’s partner?”

Tom nodded, his frown deepening. “I heard it on the news. They said he was saving some kid from getting kidnapped.”

“Which is all mixed up in this glass-ball craziness.” And that a ball had not been found at last night’s scene had been nagging at him.

“Poor Olivia. She’s got to be crushed.”

“She is, but she’ll stand.” And so will I. She’d turned to him that morning, needing him. He’d been afraid that in the light of day he’d see contempt in her eyes. But she’d taken the worst secret he owned and put it in the past. He’d find a way to do the same.

“I know. But still…” Tom sighed. “I’ve got a nine o’clock class, so I don’t have much time. I found a few things on that Web site we talked about. Can we talk here?”

It was very quiet in the firehouse that morning, the mood depressed, common when one of their own was injured. Everyone was going about their business and nobody was paying attention to them. “Good a place as any. What do you have?”

“The Web site’s domain name is registered to a guy named Hubert Leeds, established ten years ago.”

“Two years after the last Moss fire. Who is Hubert Leeds?”

“Professor Leeds. Taught at the same university as Moss. They were pals, according to a few articles I found.”

“Taught? Leeds retired?”

“No, he’s dead. Died of an aneurysm eight years ago.”

“So the Web site just lived on?”

“Not exactly. I’m not sure when the content was uploaded-you know, the speeches, the recordings, the pictures of Moss. But somebody has been renewing the domain registration. You can’t just let your URL expire or somebody could snap it up and use it for their own Web site. It was last renewed six months ago-and registered out for nine years. That’s the max.”

“Who paid for it?”

“Good question. That would have required a little deeper digging than I was comfortable doing. Credit cards and things like that.”

“So we’re going to need help,” David said unhappily and Tom shrugged.

“Ethan’s not a bad guy, David.”

“I know, I know. Never mind. What else did you find?”

Tom’s brows lifted. “You’re welcome.”

David smiled. “Thank you. What else did you find?”

“I got into the Web site pretty easily. I figured somebody had to be updating it and it was just as likely to be that Lincoln Jefferson guy as anyone. I played with usernames and passwords until I got it right. Didn’t take long. His username is AbeThomas, all one word. And three guesses to his password.”

“Valla Eam,” David said.

“You got it. I’m betting Lincoln worked with Professor Leeds to build the site. The professor probably gave him access to all the admin stuff-the registration, the site itself. Then when he died, Lincoln kept it.”

“While he grew crazier and crazier,” David said. “So this Web site has been sitting there all this time? Don’t you have to pay for server space?”

“This one’s hosted at one of these freebie places. The account’s in Leeds’s name. I checked hit activity and the site had a low level of visitors for the first half of last year. The real activity started last April, right about when the domain was renewed.”

“So who’s been visiting?”

Tom drew a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Names I was able to track. The rest are IP addresses I couldn’t track. You’re back to asking Ethan for help on those.”

David read the list, then frowned at a name that kept appearing over and over again. “This name I know. Joel Fischer. Why do I know that name?” He closed his eyes, concentrating. “Oh yeah, I remember now. It was Monday when I was listening to the news reports on the condo fire. Joel Fischer died on Monday. Car accident.”

“I remember him now, too.” Tom looked thoughtful. “He went to the university. The heavy Web traffic in April was probably research for a spring semester class.”

He was at the fire, David thought. Then he’d driven his car off the road, unable to deal with the guilt. Joel’s home was the visit Olivia had made right before she’d come to the cabin last night, before everything hit the fan. “He’s important.”

“And you’re not going to tell me how,” Tom said flatly. “Uncool, David.”

David leaned over, murmuring, “He was at the condo fire, okay?”

Tom’s brows shot up. “Really? He doesn’t seem like a smart criminal, then. He didn’t try to hide his visits to this site and he visited a lot. Of course, hits to the site have gone off the charts since yesterday when the story of the glass ball broke.”

Olivia needed the information, but David wasn’t sure how he’d tell her where he got it. He scanned the list again. There was a name that was noticeably absent.

“Lincoln’s name isn’t anywhere,” David said thoughtfully. “No wonder that Fed was so pissed. Lincoln’s been there, right under their noses for twelve years, keeping up the Web site. But they had to have known Professor Leeds had died. Why not investigate?”

“If no new content was added after Leeds died, they may have assumed it was a static site. Maybe they stopped checking it. That’s all I got. Talk to Ethan about the credit card payment for the domain re-up. He has ways of tracking stuff.”

“I don’t think all his ways of ‘tracking stuff’ are completely legal,” David murmured.

“So? You want legal or you want to keep Grandma safe at your loft?”

“You’re right. I’ll give Ethan a call. Thanks for your help, kid.”

“Anytime.” Tom gave him a quick one-armed hug, then stepped back, amused. “You need to lay off the honeysuckle perfume, David. People will talk.”

David’s cheeks heated. Olivia had jumped into the shower without her shampoo. He’d pulled back the curtain to give it to her and found her crying, a new wave of grief having hit when she’d found herself alone. He’d held her while she cried, washed her hair because he knew the massage calmed her. Then one thing had led to another and he’d made the day go away one more time.

Tom barked a laugh. “You should see your face. I have to get to class. Call me if you need me.” He handed David a card. “Ethan’s cell.”

David took the card. “Thank you. I mean it.”

“No problem. Grandma’s still with Evie?” Tom asked and David nodded.

“Yeah. Noah had to work last night, after Kane…” He sighed. “Anyway, she called Glenn and he stayed there during the night. I assume he’s still there.”