I walked indirectly toward the houses, through a thin strand of trees that too quickly gave way to an unmowed meadow. I crouched down in the grass and kept an eye on the windows. I didn’t see anyone in any of the houses, but that didn’t mean anything. I was sure they could see me if they were watching, especially from a second floor in almost any of the houses. I knelt in the grass and scanned the five houses. I thought I saw a light come on in one of them, down low at the base of the house. It was hard to tell with the low light of the sun reflecting off some of the windows. I got up and ran toward the window where I thought there was a light.

I ran about a football field’s worth of ground, maybe twenty seconds of running, the grass slowing me down, and the extra couple of pounds in the pocket of my jacket and the bag. I got close enough to see the light through the window, a bare bulb at the end of an extension cord hanging from the ceiling. I took the gun out of my pocket and waited for my breath to calm down. I didn’t want to wait at all.

The room was empty, except for a plastic folding table and a couple of chairs. There were a couple of sodas on the table, and an open bag of potato chips. There was no Eva. I crouched and waited, hoping to see somebody, when suddenly somebody appeared in the room. They startled me and I didn’t recognize them at first. I suddenly realized that I had no idea what to do. All the planning I had done in my head disappeared and I stood there in the dusk knowing I had no business trying to rescue Eva like this. It was as clear as the squares on the checkerboard, the way you know everything, the way you figure it all out in a snap second. I should play it the way they said. Give them what they want and hope they hand Eva over to me. I gripped the gun and tried to think it through, but before I could figure it out, the guy in the room turned and saw me and went to reach for something, I thought. I shot him as soon as he started. I think I hit him in the hip. I kicked out the screen and jumped down into the room.

The man was on the floor, clutching at his thigh, blood pooling underneath him. I checked to see if he had a gun, and when I leaned over him, he tried to get up and I shot him in his other leg. He went back to the concrete floor and turned and looked at me. I knew who he was. It was Daniel Dupont.

“Where’s the girl?”