I knew I was past help. I stifled the impulse to beg.

He drove for about an hour, then pulled off the pavement. I flopped around like a Raggedy Ann doll as the van lurched over the hardened ruts of some dirt road. I realized we were driving to a place where he could dump my body.

I wished I’d stopped to see Ben before going to the police station. Why didn’t I think of that? Now I’d never see him again.

Finally we stopped. Williams unlocked and relocked my cuffs so I wasn’t chained to the floor anymore. He went around and opened the back doors and pulled me out onto the ground. Then he stepped back.

I ended up on my side in half-frozen mud. Slowly I got up onto my knees, eyes averted. I wasn’t ready to look at him, yet.

I was at the edge of a cornfield. Last year’s dried, broken stalks stretched out to my left. To my right was a dark copse of trees. Probably a little stream down there. I looked straight up and saw stars. It was a clear, cold night. Everything was washed in dim silver from the bright half-moon.

Finally I looked at him. He was leaning on the van with his arms crossed, looking down at his feet. He was completely still.

“Why,” he finally said, “did you do that?”

I could tell from his voice that he was just about as angry as it was possible to be. He actually growled.

I figured “that” encompassed everything I’d done that he’d told me not to do. I didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t he figure it out?

“I was scared. I thought I could get away.”

He stared at me, silent, for several minutes.

Finally he said, “You are a lot of trouble.” The words came out at long intervals, as though he were squeezing each one through his teeth with great effort.

“I’m sorry. I’m here now. Could you please just let Justine go?”

He jerked me to my feet. “I’m going to show you something, and you’re going to take a good long look at it.”

He pulled me into the trees. When I fell, he just kept walking, dragging me over roots and dead bracken until I managed to scramble back to my feet.

After about five minutes, we reached an outcropping of large boulders. They were bunched at a low point in the land, like cattle pressed together at a watering hole. Williams threaded between them, pulling me along by my cuffed hands. The space in the midst of them was filled with the detritus of the forest — dead branches, leaves, twigs. There was a slight smell of decay, as though some small animal had crawled into the pile and died. We stood there in front of the wreckage.