At least now he had more time to do things properly. When he was getting rid of Dolly and Carol’s car, he was working to a deadline. He was on the trail of Jeremy Pilford and didn’t want to lose him.

Well, so much for that project now.

Cory’s priority was saving his own ass.

He got the door open but did not run his hand along the wall searching for the light switch. He couldn’t have anyone looking in, certainly not as the road began to fill up with gawkers and emergency equipment. Even with the flimsy curtains pulled across the windows, the silhouette of a man moving a woman’s body was very likely to attract attention.

He would kill Beakman—smothering her seemed the best way to go—then move her body out and wipe down the cabin. Doorknobs, toilet handle, anything he could think of he might have touched. Leave no personal traces behind. Get behind the wheel and slowly drive away.

Cory knew he could never go home again, that he had seen his father for the last time. He was simultaneously depressed and delighted. He loved the man, at some level, but despised him, too.

The relentless belittling with a dollop of tenderness. “You should try harder to make something of yourself, but maybe you are what you are.” Followed by a look of resignation and disappointment.

He slipped into the cabin and closed the door silently behind him. Even though it had been dark outside, his eyes needed to adjust further to the gloom of the cabin. But he was able to make out the basic shapes of its contents. The wooden table and four mismatched antique chairs in the center of the room. The sink and counter along one wall. The wood-burning heater on the opposite side of the room, the chimney pipe leading straight up and through the ceiling.

And, finally, the two beds along the left wall. One empty, one not.

Yes, suffocation seemed the simplest way to go. Clamp a hand over her mouth, squeeze her nostrils shut, and wait until the life was snuffed out of her.

You did what you had to do.

He worked his way carefully across the darkened room and stood beside the bed.

“Everything’s gone wrong,” he said. “It’s all gone to shit. Someone else tried to do it, and he fucked it up. I’ve lost my chance. I have to leave.” He paused. “I can’t take you with me. At least, not . . . Well, I can’t. I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand out to rest it on her back. He felt a strange need to comfort her before he did what he had to do.