“Right at the stop sign,” she said.

He braked hard and made the turn, tossing a sidelong glance at Kate. “You might want to get on the horn and get some of your guys out there,” he said. “Our man might still be in the vicinity.”

Shaking herself as if from a dream, she hit her lapel mike and quickly set up a perimeter. “Turn left.” She directed him to a narrow back road that had yet to see a snowplow. John drove too fast and the Tahoe obliged by fishtailing around a curve.

“Slow down.”

“I got it.”

“I don’t want to end up in the ditch,” she said testily.

“I don’t do ditches.” The Tahoe bumped over a snowdrift. John slowed for a turn, caught sight of the Dead End sign ahead and let off the gas.

“Here. Stop.”

The Tahoe skidded to a halt two feet from the weathered wood guardrail. Tomasetti scanned the area. No cars. No tracks. “How far to the scene?”

“Quarter mile.” She pointed. “There’s a path through the woods.”

“We’ve got to hoof it?”

“Shortest route.”

“Shit.”

They disembarked, both pausing to look for tire tracks. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here,” he said.

“There’s another road on the other side of the field.” She fumbled the radio on her lapel. “Glock. I’m 10-23. Hogpath Road. Use Folkerth. If this guy’s still around you might be able to cut him off there. Watch for tracks.”

Kate led him to the mouth of a path cut into the trees.

“There’s another way in?” he asked.

“If you have a snowmobile and wire-cutters, you could go in from any direction and not be seen.”

With Kate in the lead, they set off at a jog. At one time in his life, John had been in good physical condition. He’d lifted weights and run ten miles a week. But the self-destructive lifestyle he’d indulged in for the last two years had taken a toll. A hundred yards in, he was breathing hard. Another fifty and he got a stitch in his side that felt more like a heart attack. Kate, on the other hand, seemed to be in her element. Long strides. Good form. Arms pumping in perfect cadence with her feet. A runner, he thought. He noticed something else about her, too. The tempo of her footfalls actually increased the closer they got to the scene.

Around them, the trees and snow cast them into a weird black-and-white twilight. John tried to listen for their quarry, but all he heard was the roar of blood in his ears and his own labored breathing. Just when he thought he was going to have to stop, the trees opened to a clearing. Beyond, a large frozen pond reflected a slate sky. Three people huddled a few feet from the bank. A man in a denim jacket, a woman in a down coat and a girl wearing ice skates.

Kate pointed. “That’s them.”

“Any reason we should be suspicious of them?”