There was a beat of silence on the line. She almost apologized again, but then Bob said, “I’m proud of you, you know?”

Tears welled in Keller’s eyes. “I love you,” she said.

“Right back at you, G-woman. Give ’em hell tomorrow,” he said. And in an exaggerated tone of urgency he added, “And eat some deep dish. It’s Chicago, for Christ’s sake.”

CHAPTER 25

MATT PINE

Matt watched from the cover of the woods as a car jerked to a stop in front of Hank’s Toyota. A car door slammed and a figure stalked to Hank’s driver’s side. In the darkness, all Matt could make out was the form of a man. He must’ve worn heavy shoes, boots perhaps, because they crunched loudly in the gravel shoulder of the country road.

The man stopped, said something Matt couldn’t make out, then did something that caused Matt’s heart to free-fall. He started sprinting toward the precise spot where Matt was hiding.

Instincts took over, and Matt turned and hauled ass. He darted through the brush, branches lashing his face, thorny bushes snagging his shirt. A light, the beam from a powerful flashlight, locked on to Matt’s back, a long shadow before him. Matt hurdled over a downed tree, then cut sharply to the right, then left, then right again, trying to evade the spotlight.

He lunged behind some thick brush, the flashlight beam disappearing for a moment. Matt darted deeper into the woods, not looking back. He kept going, his lungs on fire. When he found pitch blackness again, he stopped behind a large tree to catch his breath. He took in the humid air, trying not to make a sound. His heart was beating so hard, it felt like an alien trying to rip through his chest.

He thought he’d lost whoever was chasing him, but the forest grew suddenly quiet. The flashlight beam reappeared. It swept through the mist, like a searchlight from prison movies, back and forth across the grid. The light grew brighter and Matt stayed deathly still. Then the light went out. Darkness, the only sound blood whirling in his ears.