I finally approached the first cabin. The woods ended, not abruptly, but with a gradual shift from heavy brush and trees, to trees with no brush, to scattered trees, to lawn and cabin. I didn’t know anything: where Barney was, if I was for sure at Pine Landing Lake, if Tolliver was even looking for me. How could he not be? But what if he thought I’d gone off voluntarily? We’d been a little irritated with each other. No, that would never happen. He’d never believe I’d leave him.

I was stalling because I was scared to step out into the open. I listened with all my ears and looked with all my eyes. My heart was thudding and my head began pounding in time with it. I was having to fight a terrible desire to lie down on the cold ground and rest there, just for a minute. I took a few deep breaths and braced myself. I stepped out into the darkening evening. The moon would be out and there would be a lot of visibility, but now it was still twilight, the deepest, darkest part.

One step out into the open. Another.

Nothing happened.

I began to move faster, crossing this lawn and going into the next. Saying “lawn” may give an impression of unbroken sweeps of trimmed grass, but that wasn’t exactly accurate. These were summer cabins, or glorified fishing camps, and lawn care was not a big item in the time budget of people who spent weekends at the lake. The lots were not that large, and sometimes there was no division at all between one property and another. Sometimes there was a line of ragged bushes, probably something that flowered in the spring. The ground was often weedy, uneven, and always, it was wet. There were things strewn around: buckets, childrens’ toys, boats covered in tarps, even a swing set. One careless cabin owner had left out his deck chairs. I know because I fell over one.

I’d never felt so alone in my life.

I got this feeling that this episode would never end. Forever, for always, I’d be stumbling in the dark through rough territory, with death waiting for me somewhere along the line.

I was actually surprised to find that I had reached the Cotton cabin, where we’d stayed. For the first time I was sure I was at Pine Landing Lake, and the next cabin, the one with lights, was the Hamiltons’ place.

But I’d have to step into the bright light to knock on the Hamiltons’ door. I might endanger them. Though it seemed to me that Barney Simpson must be heading toward Mexico or Canada in his SUV by now, I couldn’t be certain.