They had turned off the LIE a while back, traveled through some suburban towns that had given away to farmland, and now they were… here.

“I want to go back, Jack,” she said. She’d said that maybe a dozen times now. He probably thought she sounded like a broken record.

Broken record… an irrelevant question fluttered through her mind: would the next generation, raised on CDs, even know what that sounded like?

“I told you: I’ll take you back as soon as I’m sure we’re not being tailed.”

He got out and stood with the door open, staring back along the dark country road. Alicia turned and looked through the back window.

“There’s nobody there, Jack.”

“But there was. Somebody picked us up as soon as we got the car moving. That’s why we made this little detour.”

“Little” was not the word Alicia would have chosen to describe this trek. She’d had a long day, a harrowing night. My God, when was this going to end?

First, reentering the house… bad enough, but then those two men had been gunned down right in front of her. That bloody face and staring eyes, glimpsed for only a second, still strobed through her brain.

Death… so much death connected with the house.

So now she just wanted this awful night to be over. She wished she were back in her own little place with her plants and in her own bed, getting some sleep. Or at least trying to get some sleep. She did not want to be skulking through this empty farming country in eastern Long Island.

Especially with an armed man who insisted he was being followed when it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he was not.

“Okay,” she said. “Maybe somebody was following us for a while. But there’s nobody back there now. There hasn’t been for miles. So can we please go home?”

He looked up and scanned the sky. Alicia followed his gaze. A clear cold winter night, with half a moon and a billion stars providing the light.

“More than one way to follow somebody. And trust me, we’ve been followed all night. I can feel it.” He leaned inside and grabbed the keys. “Maybe we’d better go inside.”

She looked past him at the little house. Even in the. moonlight she could tell it was run-down. The storm door hung open at an angle, and an old pickup rusted amid the knee-high, winter-brown weeds in the front yard.

“In there?”

“Yeah. It’s mine.” He grinned. “This ‘delightful little two-bedroom ranch’ is my country place.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on. Just for a few minutes. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to have company soon, and I’d rather be inside when they arrive.”

Alicia looked back along the road again. “Jack… there’s nobody coming.”