That was something Clark couldn’t allow.

He shoved the photo of Mary into his front pocket. He apologized to Donna in his mind. He waited until Finn’s RAV pulled out of the gravel driveway, then started his own truck and left the lights off. He hung back several blocks, but the taillights of Finn’s vehicle were easy to follow. Finn led him on a crisscross path through the neighborhood, past unlit houses and oak trees slumping like giants over the road. On Stinson Avenue, Finn turned diagonally toward the northeast, heading into wasteland behind the municipal airport. The road cut through cornfields and past the stinking smokestacks of the oil refinery. Clark felt the bump of railroad tracks under his tires.

After several miles, the road led into the East End neighborhood, not far from the main highway and the harbor basin. Clusters of houses built on open lots dotted both sides of the road. The blocks here were laid out in neat squares. Clark noticed the red lights on the RAV grow larger as Finn slowed down, and he braked, not wanting to get too close. Finn turned, and the lights disappeared. Clark cruised past the intersection and eyed the street on his right. He did a U-turn and swung into the street, driving slowly and peering at the road ahead. There were more trees here, like parkland. He saw a playground and an old fence surrounding twin tennis courts.

Two blocks ahead, he spotted brake lights. Clark slowed to a crawl. When he arrived at the intersection, he saw that the RAV had vanished. He drove several more blocks and then retraced his steps and turned onto the side street where he had last noticed the brake lights. There was a handful of cars parked on the street and in driveways, but no RAV. No Finn. He had been gathered up by the night.

“Where are you?” Clark murmured.

He followed the checkerboard of streets like a rat through a maze. Once, he noticed a RAV parked adjacent to a detached garage, but when he got closer, he realized the color was wrong. Sand, not silver. He kept driving, wondering how Finn had managed to lose him and whether the detour through the East End had been a ruse to throw off anyone who might be behind him. Clark worried that Finn had escaped to the highway and turned north or south, heading for a completely different destination.

But no.

There he was.

Clark eased around the next corner and saw Finn’s silver RAV shunted off the shoulder of the road under the umbrella shade of an elm tree. The lot was vacant and overgrown. Clark stopped, put the pickup truck in reverse, and backed around the corner. He turned off his engine and got out, leaving the baseball bat inside the truck. To the northwest, the sky lit up for an instant and then went dark. Lightning. Clark counted until the bass drum of thunder reached his ears, but he didn’t have to wait long. The storm was drawing near.