Sorry? Sean O’Sarian apologizing? Culbeau stared for a moment in disbelief then nodded them all forward again.

They came to a bend in the river and, being on high ground, they could see for miles downstream.

Tomel said, “Hey, look up there. There’s a house. Bet the boy and the redhead’ve headed that way.”

Culbeau sighted through the ’scope of his deer rifle. About two miles down the valley was an A-frame vacation house, just about on the river. It’d be a logical hiding place for the boy and the woman cop to hole up. He nodded. “Bet they are. Let’s go.”

Downstream from the Hobeth Bridge, the Paquenoke River makes a sharp bend to the north.

It’s shallow here, near the shore, and the muddy shoals are piled high with driftwood and vegetation and trash.

Like skiffs adrift, two human forms floating in the water now missed the turn and were eased by the current into this refuse heap.

Amelia Sachs let go of the plastic water jug—her improvised flotation device—and reached out a wrinkled hand to grip a branch. She then realized that this wasn’t a very smart thing to do because her pockets were filled with rocks for ballast and she felt herself being tugged downward into the dusky water. But she straightened her legs and found the river bottom only four feet below the surface. She stood unsteadily and slogged forward. Garrett appeared beside her a moment later and helped her out of the water onto the muddy ground.

They crawled up a slight incline, through a tangle of bushes, and collapsed in a grassy clearing, lay there for a few minutes, caught their breath. She pulled the plastic bag out of her shirt. It had leaked slightly but there wasn’t any serious water damage. She handed him his insect book and opened the cylinder of her gun then rested it on a clump of brittle, yellow grass to dry.

She’d been wrong about what Garrett had planned. They had slipped empty water jugs under the overturned boat for buoyancy but then he’d shoved it into midstream without getting underneath it. He’d told her to fill her pockets with rocks. He’d done the same and they hurried downstream past the boat, fifty feet or so, and slipped into the water, each holding a half-full water jug for flotation. Garrett showed her how to lean her head back. With the rocks for ballast only their faces were above the water. They’d float downstream on the current ahead of the boat.