“You saved Pip’s life,” Max whispered finally. “You did it.”

Then Max heard Meredith’s voice. It sifted through the trees around him, a whisper, gossamer-soft and floating in the breeze. Bring my family back to me.

Max dropped his head in defeat.

CHAPTER 72

Max shivered violently as he trudged back to where Pip lay wrapped in his sleeping bag. From his pocket, he pulled the GPS communicator. A push of a button would bring a plane. Max contemplated hitting the SOS button, but wondered if a plane would be able to land at night. Did he even want the plane en route yet? Reed was still in Canada. Once things became official, there would be jurisdictional squabbles and extradition proceedings.

Max picked up enough wood to build a fire and returned to Pip, who was sitting up in his sleeping bag waiting. The sight almost brought tears to Max’s eyes. He was such a quiet child, a trusting child, and Max had failed him. He stared up at Max without speaking, as if he expected something, as though he was waiting for Max to understand what had to be done. Max felt lost.

But Pip needed to be taken care of. He needed food, and a place to sleep, and safety.

Max stripped out of his wet clothes and put on dry ones. Then he wrapped his sleeping bag around his shoulders and worked on the fire, using the small cookstove from Lyle’s pack to get the wet wood going. Once the fire took hold he poured the last of his water into a small pot and set it on the flame to boil. They would be eating beef stroganoff.

Pip didn’t speak until the food was almost ready.

“Is my daddy going to get us?” he asked.

Max carried the packet of beef stroganoff to Pip and handed it to him. Then he looked Pip in the eye and said, “No, Pip. Your daddy’s not gonna get us. He’s never gonna bother you ever again. You have my word on that.”

“He shot Spud.”

“Spud?”

“My friend. Daddy shot him in the knee and in the stomach.”

“Yeah,” Max said, “I know.” How could a father do such an evil act in front of his son?

Pip closed his eyes and exhaled, as if the poison of the past few days could drift out in that breath.

Max sat next to Pip as they ate.

When they’d finished, Max asked, “Did you get enough to eat?”

Pip nodded.

Max didn’t want to get out from beneath his sleeping bag. His core had warmed up, but his feet and hands were still ice. When he stood, his joints and muscles popped and creaked like he was busting the rust on an old hinge. He unzipped his pack and pulled out the bivvy. He would let Pip sleep in it tonight. He set it up in a matter of seconds and showed Pip his new sleeping quarters. “It’s all yours,” Max said as he scooted the boy inside.