His heart was pounding. The hidey-hole must be very, very close. He started across. The sun hit this cleared space directly, so bushes and wildflowers and vines had taken hold. Blackberry and wild-rose thorns snagged at his pants as he pushed through. On the far side, an improbable stand of bright sunflowers towered, off-season, tall, and crazy.

He scanned the hill ahead, and a flash of light pulled his attention. The gleam of heavy glass shining through the trees.

A window. The Dentons’ hidey-hole was right in front of him. He’d practically been looking at it, but only now did the shapes resolve. There was a weathered wall of gray siding built into the hillside. The cabin was narrow and tucked under a rocky overhang, in shadow. It had a heavy door and a single window. It had been built to blend, and as Mrs. Denton had said, the bulk of the house had been dug out from the hill itself.

His heart thumped hard, a booming in his chest. If he was right about anything, then it was this: Robert was here. Robert was fifty feet away, on the other side of that ancient wooden door. He knew it. He felt it. So why did he hesitate?

She wouldn’t bluff about this. She means him harm, Bree had said.

He felt Betsy’s fingers brush the back of his neck in warning, making the small hairs rise. Was someone with Robert after all? Lexie?

He unholstered his .38 and crept parallel to the cabin, moving out of the view from that single filthy window. Then he started forward again, angling his path to approach from the side.

He felt stupid doing it. Lexie wasn’t up here. Coral, who read mysteries and thrillers, would not let Lexie deposit forensic evidence at the scene of a kidnapping. Still, he felt watched. Still, he kept sneaking gingerly toward the window from the side, silent. If Robert was not alone, then it had to be Lexie. Who else would love Coral Lee Pine enough to help her steal a baby? Engineer Spence’s death? Coldly murder a toddler? There wasn’t anybody else.

If he looked through the window and saw Lexie holding the baby, he would have to make a choice. He could put a bullet in her eye, then kick the door down and dig the baby out from underneath her body. Or he could hope she would not have her mother’s ruthlessness and kick the door down first, commanding her to put her hands up, away from Robert’s frail, small neck.

He stepped soft along the wall, crouching, and then peeped up through the window.