No one else had been around; no one had seen him or tried to stop him. He doubted even the owner would notice the difference. License plates weren’t something most people paid attention to, except cops. So once he got back to the chicken ranch, painted the van and put on the new plates, he’d return the rental car and be fairly safe.

As he drove back, he was looking forward to having a chance to rest and recover from all the activity and stress of the past few days—and getting to know Evelyn a bit better. He hoped she’d be friendlier when he spoke to her again. If she wasn’t, if she was too stubborn for her own good, they would both lose out.

The show tune “Let the Memory Live Again” came on the radio, so he turned it up.

Boy, had it been a long time since he’d heard that song. He loved Broadway musicals! He and Beth used to sit and watch them over and over. They were a lot better than the negative crap on television these days. But there was something nostalgic about the lyrics of this particular song. It made him sort of melancholy to hear that line—how did it go?—about the memory of knowing happiness once upon a time.

He’d never known. Sometimes he not only felt estranged from those around him, he also felt estranged from the whole human race. What kind of a kid was so unlovable that even a mother wouldn’t want him?

For the first time in ages, he thought of his mother. He’d believed he’d finally be happy after he gave her what she deserved for choosing her new husband over her children, but he’d never forget the look on her face when he stepped out of the bushes of her yard with that gun. It was almost as if she was glad to see him, but since he’d shot her right away, he had no idea what she was about to say.

Fortunately, his mood became less self-reflective as “Do You Hear the People Sing?” from Les Misérables came on. He was foolish for thinking of his mother. She didn’t deserve the longing that sometimes sprang up.

He was tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the drums when the road curved to the right, but as he navigated that turn and the chicken ranch came into sight his heart jumped into his throat.

Everything wasn’t as he’d left it. There was a white Explorer parked out front, and whoever had gotten out of it had somehow managed to open the gate he’d locked when he left—he distinctly remembered doing it—and gone inside.

Hilltop, AK—Sunday, 3:35 p.m. AKDT

Amarok was so torn. He wanted to fly to Minnesota and take the face close-up from the Quick Stop video around to each and every employee at Beacon Point himself. So much of police work involved reading body language and using his intuition about the people he met, whether they were being honest or not. But he was afraid to leave Alaska for fear the searchers would finally turn up something and he wouldn’t be around to act on it.