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Chapters (27)
  1. "F" is for FUGITIVE
  2. Chapter 1
  3. Chapter 2
  4. Chapter 3
  5. Chapter 4
  6. Chapter 5
  7. Chapter 6
  8. Chapter 7
  9. Chapter 8
  10. Chapter 9
  11. Chapter 10
  12. Chapter 11
  13. Chapter 12
  14. Chapter 13
  15. Chapter 14
  16. Chapter 15
  17. Chapter 16
  18. Chapter 17
  19. Chapter 18
  20. Chapter 19
  21. Chapter 20
  22. Chapter 21
  23. Chapter 22
  24. Chapter 23
  25. Chapter 24
  26. Chapter 25
  27. Epilogue

I stumbled onto the fire lane, a packed dirt road just wide enough to admit one vehicle. I moved to the left, trying to calculate where the hotel was in relation to me. The whole backside of the building was apparently dark, and it was tricky to calculate my exact location. I risked the pen-light. The shallow beam picked up an object looming in my path. I stopped dead. Ahead of me, nearly obscured by overhanging branches, was Shana's battered Plymouth.

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

I circled the car, which looked vaguely sinister on the path, like the hulking carcass of some inexplicable beast. All four tires were flat. Someone hadn't wanted Shana to go anywhere. I would almost have been willing to bet she was dead, that she'd arrived for her rendezvous with Dunne and had somehow never left. I lifted my head. The woods were chilly, smelling of leaf mold, damp mosses, and sulfur. The dark was intense, the night sounds eradicated, as if my very presence were a warning to the cicadas and tree frogs whose songs had been stilled. I didn't want to find her. I didn't want to look. Every bone in me was aching with the certainty that her body was here somewhere.

I could feel my stomach churn as I flashed the narrow beam from the penlight across the front seat of Shana's car. Nothing. I checked the backseat. Empty. I stared at the trunk lid. I didn't think my lock picks would work, so if the trunk was locked, I was going to have to go down to the office, break in, lift Shana's car keys from the lost-and-found box, and come back. I pressed the catch and the trunk swung open. Empty. I let out the breath I'd been holding unconsciously. I left the lid up, not wanting to risk the noise I'd make slamming it shut. "Sanctuary" had to be somewhere close.

I tried to picture the plot map for the spas in this area. I flashed the penlight across the close-growing shrubs, looking for a path. Foliage that appeared to be a vivid green by day now had the matte, washed-out look of construction paper. A set of packed dirt steps, shored up by railroad ties, descended through a gap in the bushes.

I went down. A rustic wood arrow indicated that "Aerie" was just off to my left. I passed "Haven" and "Tip Top."

"Sanctuary" was the fourth hot tub from the summit. I remembered then that it was located at the end of a long, twisted path, with two smaller paths branching off it. The leaves underfoot were soggy and made scarcely any sound, but I noticed I was leaving marshy prints in my wake. When I reached "Sanctuary," I played the penlight across the ground. There were three cigarette butts trampled among the leaves. I hunkered down, bending close. Camel unfiltered. Shana's brand.