I breathe, stroke Max, once, twice, and turn back with a sharp sniff and huff to brace myself as the engine cuts out, the pickup door slams shut.

“What do I need to do?” I ask.

Matthew’s hands unclench by his sides. “First thing is to get Brian.”

“That makes sense. Of course.”

“Then I’d say visit his family, but—”

“Right.” They’re in Scotland. A daughter, two grandchildren. Due to visit once the war ended.

I could call them. Maybe he has his phone in the truck—but there’s no reception now. Once the lines are restored, then. The tower and everything else that’s gone out this week.

I get the wild feeling I should find a piece of paper and start writing this down, that this is my first day at a new job. I’ll either have a long list of things to do once the Day is done, or none at all, ever again.

Stop. Don’t be crazy. This was a horrible coincidence. Horrible, horrible.

A gust from the south lifts my hair. I shudder, wrapping my arms around my ribs.

Matthew turns away. “I smell fire.”

“We saw it on the way up. A campfire. The tourists, campers, the, um, Norwegians.”

I can’t even get a sentence out around him.

It doesn’t help when his eyes fill with rage so forceful I’m surprised the ground doesn’t start shaking. “We didn’t evacuate the tourists.”

“I didn’t know we were meant to.”

He turns away, cursing under his breath. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know.” I glance at my bare wrist as if I’ve ever worn a watch there. “Eight, maybe? Nine?”

“Yeah. Okay, you need to see about this. I’m going to guess it’s no longer a campfire. I’ll take you. Where is Hugh?”

The question is abrupt. Furious.

I blanch. “He’s home. With the children.”

“With you out here?”

“I didn’t tell him I was going.”

“You—” He spins in a circle, hands in his mess of curls.

“The dog ran off! I…”

My voice trails away the second his gray eyes fix on mine. He sees through me. “Well. It’s lucky you were here.”

It’s not at all what I expected to hear him say. The words jangle in my ears. “Lucky.”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “Good. Helpful. His last moments—”

“No.” I have to cut him off. Panic rises. A wave of truth. I’m a killer. I killed my father, and I’ve killed him. “What am I doing out here?”

Matthew’s forehead furrows for lack of an answer.

“John is here because I was chasing Max. If I hadn’t needed some air, some fucking air, he would still be—”