Stranded

hung up on her but stopped when she said, “The man who attacked Noah is dead.” But before she drove to her meeting with Noah, she called Sheriff Uniss in Sioux City, Iowa.
    He answered with a lecture, telling her that he had been leaving messages for her for two days. Maggie’s and Tully’s cell phones still hadn’t been recovered after Jack tossed them into the forest. The sheriff wanted her to know they had found “Lily the lot lizard”—that’s exactly how he referred to her now. He told Maggie that somehow Lily had made it back to the farmhouse but she was still in serious condition now at the regional medical center. When she told him about Howard Elliott, the sheriff was stunned.
    “Howard Elliott’s been a fine businessman in these parts for over ten years. He’s an independent contractor. Has his own truck. Folks say he took real good care of Helen Paxton after her husband disappeared.”
    Disappeared?
    Something about that reminded Maggie of Jack’s claim that hehad killed his own father when he was a boy. Was it possible he had done the same to his foster father years later?
    As soon as Maggie ended her call with Sheriff Uniss, she texted Agent Alonzo:
    Skull found at Iowa farm—
    check to see if it’s William Paxton.
    Noah insisted on another walk. Maggie understood he wanted to get out of the house and somewhere that his parents couldn’t listen. It had been a week since the attack. He walked more confidently and wore regular shoes. His feet were healing. The cuts on his face were no longer red and swollen. And that wild-eyed panic that Maggie had seen in his eyes was finally gone. But Maggie knew—and she knew this all too well from experience—the real scars would never disappear.
    “How do you know for sure it was him?”
    She reached into her pocket and pulled out the laminated card the Florida crime scene technicians had found in the back of John Howard Elliott’s panel truck. He had built the truck into a custom workshop for his business. As a skilled craftsman, Elliott worked on construction projects across the country. But his vehicle also included the tricks of his hobby.
    There were magnetic signs for the outside of the truck that provided significant disguise. Signs that read: ST. VINCENT ’ S FOR THE HOMELESS , COMMUNITY RESCUE UNIT , and even FEMA . The disguises also included a variety of items Maggie realized would help him look vulnerable and add to his claim of being a nice guy who was “stranded.” There was an arm sling, crutches, a neck brace, and even a dog collar and leash.
    And then there was the box of “souvenirs,” an old fish and tackle case. This one didn’t surprise Maggie, though it was the most difficult to go through. None of the items were particularly shocking, but they were deeply personal. Among the dozens of items they found inside were a Harley-Davidson belt buckle, a gold tooth, a shamrock pin, a book of poetry, a Saint Christopher’s medal, a lock of hair, and the card Maggie now handed Noah.
    “My driver’s license,” he whispered.
    Still not convinced, he asked, “How do you know he’s dead?”
    “Because I was there, Noah. He gave me a chance to run just like he did with you.”
    They’d stopped in the shade of a huge tree. Its roots had broken into the sidewalk. Noah was quiet. His head stayed down as he stared at the card that he held pinched tightly between thumb and index finger as if he still couldn’t believe it.
    “It’s over, Noah,” Maggie said, her tone gentle. “You don’t need to be afraid anymore.”
    “But I left Ethan behind.”
    And now she could hear him trying to choke back a sob.
    Maggie didn’t have an answer for him. She knew human instinct, had studied it, saw it at its worst, and took faith when she saw glimmers of it at its best. She’d never be able to explain to Noah why he had run and she didn’t. Why he had left Ethan and she couldn’t leave Tully. Why she wouldn’t let John Howard Elliott win. She had many more years and more experience fighting evil than Noah. Maybe that was the only difference.
    Fight or flight. Good or evil. Rarely was life that black and white. Most people learned to live in the gray areas. Maybe Noah would, too, and hopefully he would learn to forgive himself for simply following his instinct.
    “He would have killed you both,” Maggie finally said. “You chose to survive, Noah. You can’t keep beating yourself up because a madman tried to kill you and you