He reached the end of the rope. He was midway between the top and the bottom, hung like a puppet on strings of his own design. He could not see Amy anymore. He called out, “Amy!”

She must have gone to check on Jimmy.

No problem. There were no problems.

Except his girlfriend had lied and cheated on him. She had stolen his son. She had murdered her husband. She had fled the law. Sure, there were problems but they were not insurmountable if only he could trust her.

“Amy!” he shouted.

No reply. She must be checking on Jimmy.

No damn problem, he kept telling himself.

Matt imagined he felt a tug on his rope. He was not sure because it did not feel as if she was trying to pull him up or even trying to get his attention. To do the latter all she had to do was stick her head over the side and call down. He did not understand why she had gone off for so long.

He felt another peculiar tug on his rope.

He decided to climb back up. Something was not right.

He climbed quick. His old skills had not rusted. His feet had an intelligence all their own. He found numerous tiny footholds; his leg muscles were strong. He reached the ledge sixty feet below the edge of the cliff in one minute. He breathed hard but he was in control and life was still good.

Then something extraordinary happened. His rope went slack. No, actually, it went so slack that it floated off the side of the cliff. The end hit his face as it casually fell to the ground, far below.

The end Amy had cut with a knife. It just flew right by him.

If, by chance, he had not been standing on the ledge, he would have flown with it.

Matt stood there and realized, finally, that all his questions had been answered.

“Amy?” he said quietly. Amazing how she heard him this time.

Her face peeked over the edge. “Matt?”

“What happened to the rope?”

She stared. “I don’t know.”

“Did it break?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you throw me down another rope?”

“Do you want me to?”

Matt had to think about that. He hauled up the end of the rope. No rock burn here, cut clean with a knife. She watched him study the rope.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“I’m stuck here.”

“I know.”

“If I hadn’t reached this ledge when I did, I would be dead now.”

“I know.” Obviously she was not in the mood for conversation.

He sighed. “So what are we looking at here, Amy?”

“You know.”

He got angry. “I know, you know. What are you doing?”

“I can’t live like this. I can’t spend the rest of my life on the run. I can’t go to jail.” She sounded sad. “I’m sorry.”