Checking the area near the shed, scrutinizing the trees and bramble, Byyle found the patchwork of weatherworn wooden sheets and beams. Long ago, when he’d first established this storage chamber for his subjects, he’d assumed it was an old, discarded pile of scrap wood. If he’d taken the time, he would’ve seen that it was the covering of another shaft.

Disappointed, he walked away, intent on correcting the vulnerability before his next acquisition. With the grass brushing against him, he continued searching for this one, savoring the unique way by which he’d acquired her.

It was daring.

So close to his base of operations, it had been an impulse, an opportunity that presented itself that foggy night. At first, he’d passed on it, thinking it was impossible. Then, almost as a lark, he challenged himself with an intricate scenario.

He employed the ruse to test himself, expecting it to fail.

But it worked. The stars aligned.

The ecstasy of his success was intoxicating.

He had been confident it would send the value of his creation using her soaring. But it hadn’t. Now, she’d escaped. It should only add to her value. Still, lessons were learned.

Time to move and think. Birdsong sweetened the air. After he’d gone about a hundred yards from the shed, he came to large, flat rock jutting from the earth.

He stopped.

Next to the rock was a crumpled wrapper from a granola bar.

He picked it up and flattened it.

The same brand and flavor he had given her.

On the ground next to it was an apple core; the remaining flesh on it was still moist.

She couldn’t have gone far!

CHAPTER 55

Waterbury, Vermont

Be cool. No one knows what I did.

Staring at the bare, off-white walls of the interview room, Spiker knew the process. So far, he hadn’t been handcuffed and hadn’t been charged. Still, this was serious, and he had to be smart and cooperate. He was just months away from completing three years of stinking parole.

That’s why I didn’t ask for a lawyer when they read me my rights—to show them I got nothing to hide, and that I’m cooperating.

Spiker took stock of the room again—the fluorescent lighting overhead, the table with two empty chairs facing him, the two-way mirror. He knew the room was equipped with audio and video recording devices.

And that he was locked in.

No problem. I’m patient. Nobody’s gonna know what I did. I’m gonna keep it that way, because I’m not going back to Swanton.

The door opened, and the two detectives returned.

“You know, Spiker,” Noble said as they took their seats, “you’re still under Miranda and have the right to stop answering questions at any time to talk to an attorney.”

“I know. But I got nothing to hide, and I want to help.”