“Get down here and lay in it,” Reed said. “Test it out. I want to see if it fits.” Reed knew it would fit—it was a sleeping bag, for God’s sake.

Pip still didn’t move.

Why wasn’t Pip excited? Reed yanked the sales tag off and waved it in Pip’s face. “I spent a hundred and fifty bucks on this. The least you can do is try it out.”

Pip slid off his bed and sat beside the sleeping bag, gently touching it with one finger.

“Get in.”

The boy slipped into the bag, lay on his side, and put his thumb in his mouth.

“Stop sucking your thumb,” Reed said. “You’re not a baby anymore. It’s time for you to grow up.” Pip pulled his thumb from his mouth but showed no hint of appreciation for the gift. “You like it?”

Pip nodded but remained expressionless.

Reed stood and left the room, glancing back to see Pip climb back onto his bed and curl up around his pillow, leaving the sleeping bag wadded up on the floor. Such disrespect. Reed had a lot of work to do on that boy. A trip into the Northwoods in November might be a good place to start. But he didn’t want to take that trip unless he absolutely had to. A cold rain was falling outside, which soured Reed all the more on the idea of trekking through the woods. If the plan to stay at the shack could still work, they would stick it out.

As he waited for Spud, he stewed. Someone—not a cop—had searched his house, and that person had likely followed him on the night that Spud took off. But why had detectives paid a visit to Spud’s house? And what did they know about the sixth of November? How had Spud messed things up so badly?

He stepped out of the shack and stood under the shelter of the porch awning. The rain had ebbed to a trickle, and in the west, the sun peeked through the clouds as it dropped toward the horizon. They had maybe an hour of light left. If they were to make a run for it, they might have to wait until morning.

A glint of silver flashed through the trees. Spud was back. At last. He rolled his car up to the cabin and got out, not looking at Reed, reaching into the backseat to pull out his duffel bag.

“You weren’t followed?” Reed asked, doing his best to keep the anger out of his voice.

“No.”

Spud walked past Reed and into the cabin, and it was all Reed could do not to grab his partner and shove him to the ground. “Are you sure?”

“I pulled off the highway every half hour—just like you told me to do. No one followed me, and look…” He pointed out of the kitchen window. “No planes. No helicopters. Nothing.”

Reed followed Spud into the cabin. “Tell me about the detectives.”

Spud put his bag on the table next to the backpacks. “What’s this?”