“I need a break.”

“Stop carrying Pip. He’s old enough to walk on his own.”

“He’s six years old. He can’t walk as fast as you.”

“We have to keep moving.”

“Christ, Reed. No one’s after us.”

Reed stepped into Spud’s face. “We’re out here because of you. They found our cabin because of you. Don’t tell me that no one’s after us, because you don’t know a fucking thing.”

Spud could feel Pip’s grip tighten on his thigh as the boy stepped behind him.

“It’s okay, Spud,” Pip said, “I can walk.”

“That’s my boy,” Reed said. “You’re no wimp. It’s just a little hike in the woods, right?”

Pip stepped in front of Spud, ready to follow. Reed turned and began walking, again at a brisk pace.

Spud reached down to pat Pip on the shoulder, to let him know that things were going to be all right, and Pip grabbed his fingers. He held on to Spud as they walked through the darkness.

CHAPTER 53

There were no vehicles parked at the trailhead. No Reed. No Pip. Had Lyle been wrong? There were dozens of entry points for the Boundary Waters, many with trails that led toward Canada. And who’s to say they were heading into the woods to begin with? They had a tag from a kid’s sleeping bag—that was all.

Max and Lyle stepped from the Cherokee, and Max grabbed his military-grade flashlight from the glove box, shining the light through the nearby woods. They appeared empty. He turned the beam to the ground at his feet, the muddy gravel of the parking area. At first he saw nothing, but after taking a few steps he saw tire tracks.

“Lyle.” Max pointed at the tracks. “It rained today, so these are fresh.”

Lyle had strapped a headlamp to his forehead and looked at the tracks, then around the parking area. “But where’s the Tahoe?”

The tire tracks circled as if the vehicle had turned around. “We crossed a creek…” Max said. “Maybe they ditched it.”

Max backtracked toward the highway, but Lyle didn’t follow right away. He went to the cargo area of the Cherokee and opened the hatch. Max turned, curious, and saw Lyle haul out a deer rifle with a scope, one that he must have picked up when he had gone home to get his gear.

“Jesus, Lyle,” Max said.

The rifle held a five-shot magazine, and Lyle chambered a round. “I can drop a deer from a thousand yards. It’s not gonna be a fair fight if I have anything to say about it.”

They walked to the bridge and Max shined his light across the marsh. Finding nothing, they continued backtracking toward the highway. The marsh gave way to woods, and the woods grew thicker as they walked. Ahead, Max spotted tire tracks cutting into the trees, and his beam caught a glint of something as if a reflection off glass.

“Lyle… there. See it?”

“Yeah,” Lyle said. “I see it.”