I was no angel. I’d had my share of lovers—maybe more than average—and I’d acquiesced to displays of testosterone less overt or impressive. But not that day. That day I wanted to go home, and I told him so.

He said no.

Unlike my other lingering doubts, I don’t question my actions at that moment. I didn’t freeze or hesitate.

I started running.

Troy Woods would never play for the NFL, but he caught me in seconds.

*   *   *

Caitlin’s eyes went to the camera feed. The elusive David Amireau stood outside the house next to Frodo. She hit “Record.” They went inside the first greenhouse.

Still only one car. Was Dave living there?

She reread her opening. Gratuitous, more therapy than journalism. Either way, she’d started the process. No panic attack, no tears.

Again, she caught movement in the feed. Both men carried boxes from the greenhouse to the barn.

She’d taken the tour. The boxes contained nothing more than crisp Persian cucumbers. Still, she’d documented Amireau at the farm. She started the shutdown process to be ready to follow whoever left. She wasn’t ready in time.

David Amireau whipped out of the barn and down the driveway on a bicycle.

Caitlin pulled the camera and tripod off the window.

He reached the road, waited for an oncoming truck to pass.

“Not good,” she said.

Instead of turning, he rode straight across the road toward her hiding spot.

She crammed the camera behind the passenger seat, threw a sweatshirt over the pile of surveillance gear.

Amireau’s thick beard and beady eyes greeted her through the passenger window. He smiled, knocked on the glass. “You okay?”

Caitlin had no idea if he’d seen the camera. She reached for her phone. “What did you say?”

“Are you having car trouble or something?”

Not exactly the “What the hell are you doing spying on me?” that she’d expected.

“No.” She held up her phone, screen locked. “Directions. My phone keeps losing signal, and I’m looking for something.”

“What?”

“The soccer fields. My niece has a game somewhere around here.”

“On a Tuesday?”

Caitlin tried to lemonade the lemon. “She’s twenty-five. She and her friends took the day off for a health thing. Do you live around here?”

“You’re in my driveway.”

“Oh, sorry,” Caitlin said, lost in the thought that Aaron Gaffney had spent an entire day in the very spot.

Amireau looked past her. “Why’d you park like that? All up against the fence.”

She tried to force a blush. “I peed in your grass. I wanted to set up a barrier in case anyone drove up all of a sudden. You know, like you just did.”

Amireau laughed a little. “That would have been weird.”

He pointed down the road. “The soccer fields are a mile to your left. They even have bathrooms. Might be a little nicer than my grass.”