For whatever reason, the tiny post office that served the few people of Bingham opened at seven thirty in the morning. It was barely light. The restaurant didn’t open until eight, and so I felt not only conspicuous but suspicious sitting in my Jeep. I spread out maps of the central New Mexico region but worked on my own data from my cave in the Canyon, so my time wasn’t being completely wasted. When the cook and DeLois drove in and parked behind the diner, I went inside and had breakfast. DeLois made small talk with me. I learned that the cook’s name was Jorge, though he wanted to be called George. At lunchtime I drove west to San Antonio and sat briefly in my motel room before making the long drive back to the parking lot of the post office, where I sat in my vehicle until it closed at three. That afternoon I toured the dry, desolate, monotonous countryside and wondered just what the hell I was doing way out there in the middle of no place. That night I called Meg and asked after Sarah.

“She was quiet today,” Meg said. “Where are you?”

“I need some time. I’m working.”

“Are you in the Canyon?”

“I will be soon. There’s a cave here in New Mexico that I’m checking out.” I hated lying. “Does she even realize that I’m not there?”

There was a long pause. “I can’t say that she does.” It scared Meg to say it. She was not concerned about my feelings but about what it meant about Sarah.

“There will be days like that,” I said. “I’ll be home soon. I’m sorry I’ve run off.”

“I’d like to run off too, you know.”

“When I get back.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m sorry.”

We hung up and I lay back and stared up at the crumbling ceiling. I watched a documentary about bears and fell asleep in my clothes.

Morning three. While I ate my too-hard-scrambled eggs and sausage patties served on a blue plastic plate I peered through the booth window and saw the red-paper-wrapped package I had mailed from Socorro two days earlier exit the post office. It was carried by a white man with a shock of white hair, of medium build, wearing desert khaki camouflage pants and shirt. He was accompanied by a taller, fatter man, similarly dressed. The second man carried a stack of boxes that he loaded into the back of a Hummer. He then returned to the post office. The first man tore through the red paper and into the box, discovered it empty. When his friend came back with another stack of packages, they had an animated conversation that concluded with the shorter man kicking the box and red paper around the gravel parking area. They got into their huge rig and rolled away to the east.