Wyatt continued along the rough road, along gentle hills and valleys that he figured were once farmed or had been pastureland. Reading his odometer, he estimated he’d traveled two miles from the dirt road. Then he saw the sun reflected by a distant flash of chrome, coming from a sweeping valley lying amid a stand of trees alongside a stream.

A pickup truck was parked next to a camper that had been removed from it. A table and chairs were near a lone figure, who stood watching Wyatt. He drove slowly down the hillside, following the path of flattened grass made by the pickup in the valley. Looking around, he saw nothing but hills and distant mountains. Nothing for miles, as if he, and whoever was with the pickup, were the only people left in the world.

Bringing his SUV to a halt, Wyatt got a better look. He determined the watcher was an older, heavyset woman. As she stared at him, he noticed the barrel of a rifle beside her, leaning against the table.

Wyatt shut off his SUV, got out, opened his door, and stood behind it.

“Hello,” he said. “Sorry to disturb you. I’m looking for Cass and Gibby.”

He noticed a washtub on the riverbank, and socks, underwear, shirts, and pants drying from a line strung between two trees.

“Are you police?”

“No, ma’am. My name’s Ray Wyatt. I’m a reporter from New York.”

“Anybody can say that. Lyin’s a sin, you know.”

“I’ll show you my identification, if that will help.”

Her lower jaw shifted from side to side as she looked at him.

“Bring it on over. Let me have a look.”

Wyatt went to her, keeping his eye on the gun. After staring at his True Signal News ID for a long moment, she relaxed.

“What do you want, Mr. Wyatt?”

“Would you be Cass?”

“You didn’t answer me. What do you want?”

“I’m researching the story of the missing girl from New York. If you’re Cass, I’d like to talk to you and Gibby. I understand you tried to help her and her boyfriend the night she disappeared.”

Her lower jaw shifted from side to side.

“You seem to know a lot. How’d you know we were here?”

We?

Wyatt glanced around. There was no sign of Gibby, or anyone else. Maybe he was in the camper. He noticed a Bible on the table. He also saw medication, a syringe, a jar of peanut butter, jam, bread, fruit, and other things.

“I asked around. That’s my job. So, are you Cass?”

“That’s what I go by.”

“So, Cass, will you talk to me for the story?”

She stuck out her bottom lip.

“How much do you pay for something like that?”

“Well, that’s not how it works. We don’t pay for interviews.”