What the hell? They were shadows, tiny and distant, but definitely men, one facing north, solid and unmoving in his stance, aiming a rifle at the very hill where Reed lay hidden. The second man stood further back, his shape obscured by trees. Reed saw no one else.

It had to be Lyle. But if it was Lyle—and he’d found the cabin and probably the Tahoe as well—where were the search planes? Surely Lyle would have called the State Patrol. Reed put the binoculars down to ponder, and only one answer made sense. Lyle didn’t want the State Patrol involved. Lyle wanted to find them himself.

Reed leaned against the tree to think. A few paces away, Spud and Pip sat out of sight of their pursuers, oblivious. Lyle was likely following the trail of broken scrub and footprints that Spud the ox was leaving behind. Spud had screwed them once again. Reed needed to slow Lyle down, maybe send him on a false trail—or both.

An idea came to him, but it seemed too easy. He ran it through one more time and, although it had flaws, it had a real chance of success. If nothing else, it would buy him time. Reed stood and pulled his gun from the waistband of his hiking pants.

As he walked toward Spud, Reed went through what needed to happen. He had told Spud about Loon Falls, hadn’t he? Yes. Had he ever mentioned the rapids? No. Maybe Reed would mention Loon Falls one more time, work it into the useful idiot’s memory.

He paused briefly to take off his coat, draping it over the gun before finishing his walk back to Spud.

Spud looked up at Reed and said, “I told you that no one’s following us.”

Reed smiled, put the muzzle of the hidden gun against Spud’s knee, and pulled the trigger.

CHAPTER 62

Spud felt an explosion as the bones in his leg shattered and a thunderclap of pain shot through his body. He fell off the backpack, howling, his hands cupped around what was left of his knee. He could hear Pip screaming. He rolled to escape the pain, but every move awakened more agony.

The ringing in his ears gave way to the chaos of his own grunts, mixed with Pip’s high-pitched squeal—“No!”—and “Spud!” screamed as loud as the child’s lungs would allow.

Spud tried to look at Pip, but he couldn’t see through the tears. Then he felt Pip’s hands on him. The boy had dropped to his side. Spud wanted to put an arm around him, but he felt Pip’s tiny fingers being torn away as Reed pulled his son back.

“I’m your father,” Reed yelled. “You stay here and listen to me.”

Pip continued to scream until a slap silenced him. Then he went rigid, his eyes cast up at his father in fear.

“I’m gonna teach you how to be a man,” Reed said. “That’s what all this is for.”

Pip’s jaw quivered and tears flooded his eyes, but he didn’t make a sound.