I cross the street and keep walking. An early-morning stroll without my dog is anathema to me. It feels wrong. We should be on these pristine streets together watching the world wake up. But I won’t go to her before I feel some kind of closure. Life is too precious.

After circling around the block, I find myself in front of Lam’s house again. There’s still no answer to my buzz on the intercom. But I can feel someone there. It’s one of those rare moments I feel a certain level of sentience coming from an inanimate object. It’s not just a camera. It’s a window. There’s someone on the other side, watching.

“Is it him? Is he the one they picked up last night?” I ask, speaking into the box. I turn to look directly at the camera mounted on the outer wall, the one closest to me. “Answer me, goddamn it! It feels too easy. Doesn’t it feel too easy?”

The last question comes out as barely a whisper. I can’t explain it any other way. I’m thinking of Dao, knowing he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Something isn’t right.

My calls to Bonnie go unanswered. Lynn and Everett, too. I’m so desperate I try Adele’s office, but it’s Saturday and nobody answers the company line.

Then I do something out of character. I call the police, the Whistler RCMP. I tell them my neighbor’s house has been broken into and give the cabin’s address. I hang up and get into the Corolla.

There’s one more call it occurs to me to make. “I’m going to Whistler,” I say to Simone.

“Wait, Nora,” she says. “They’ve got to make a statement soon. They’ve already said there’s a suspect in the manhunt in custody. Let’s just hang on for a bit, okay? The weather is terrible. There’s another foot of snow coming our way. Don’t drive in these conditions.”

“I have to,” I say. “I can’t reach Bonnie or her parents. I’ve already called the police to take a look. I’m just . . . I have to check.”

She’s silent for a moment. Of all people, Simone realizes what it has taken for me to call the cops. “Fine, okay. What’s the cabin address?”

I give it to her and hang up.

After starting the car, I run back to the intercom. “I’m going to Whistler.” Once again, I give out the address. Just in case there’s someone listening.

It’s snowing, a light down that drifts more than falls. It’s only until I get onto the highway that I remember I don’t have winter tires.