We could lose him forever. Ray may be a friend, but this case is paramount. I will not jeopardize it. I’ve got to reach out to him.

A half hour later, the meeting concluded with investigators collecting phones, tablets, folders, and notes before heading out to their assignments.

McDade was among the last to leave, requesting Noble to copy the bird cam footage so she could view it on her phone.

She continually replayed it, studying Moore. Her stomach tensed as she locked on to the mystery vehicle.

We’ve never been this close to the Hydra. Never. He’s near. I know it because I can almost smell him.

CHAPTER 36

Lucifer’s Notch in the Northeast Kingdom

Stones ricocheted against the Ford’s undercarriage as Wyatt drove beyond Zeffie’s Gas & Grocery.

He passed the spot where Moore and Tatum had run out of gas, traveling along the razor’s edge of a dirt road that sliced into dense forests of birch and maple, drawing him deeper into a beautiful void. Occasional roadside mailboxes stood like lonely signposts to civilization for the few homes that existed here. The buildings were all but hidden from view, as if devoured by the woods. Wyatt saw nothing but bogs, rivers, and the unforgiving wilderness, where nothing had changed for centuries.

He looked at his phone. Forget it. No service. He was inside what some called a “dead zone.”

In the isolation, he thought of Lisa, his wife, and how she’d died with a broken heart after they’d lost Danny.

We left him alone to have dinner, Ray—how could we?

He could still feel Danny’s wrist, the way he did in the fire.

I had him—I had him, but something pulled him away, he’d told Lisa.

Both of them never stopped believing Danny was alive.

Then came that night, that horrible night he lost Lisa.

She’d taken a pottery class at Queens College. Her psychologist had urged her to do it, to help her cope. It was a year after the fire, and that night she was so late getting home. His texts and calls to her phone went unanswered. Then an NYPD car pulled up to their house and two female officers came to the door….

I knew.…I saw it in their eyes.…Felt it ripping at me when they asked…“Are you the husband of Lisa Constance Wyatt?”…“We’re so sorry to inform you that your wife, Lisa, was in an accident.…A driver who was texting collided with your wife’s car on the Long Island Expressway.…The driver is dead.…Your wife is critical.”…My knees buckled.…The cops steadied me.…Took me to the hospital.…The lights...siren…screaming.…Was I screaming?…Rushing through the corridor in the same hospital where Danny was born.…Holding Lisa’s hand…like when Danny was born.…Her last words, her dying words, were: “Find Danny, Ray. Bring him home.”