The Bodies Left Behind

was near the edge of the jacket. It had apparently missed bone and vital vessel. He mused, “Crazy line of work we’re in, don’t you think, Brynn?”
    “We’re not in the same line of work.” She couldn’t help but scoff.
    “Sure we are. . . . Take tonight: We came up here to do jobs we’d agreed to do. And now we’ve still got the same goals. To stop each other and get out of this damn forest alive. Who writes your paycheck and who writes mine, that’s just a technicality. Doesn’t matter much why we’re here. The important thing is that we are.”
    She had to laugh.
    But he continued, as if she’d conceded his point. And looked into her eyes as he said, animated, “But don’t you think it’s what makes everything worthwhile? Even what’s gone down tonight, all this crap. I do. I wouldn’t trade the life I lead for anything. Look at most of the rest of the world—the walking dead. They’re nothing but dead bodies, Brynn. Sitting around, upset, angry about something they saw on TV doesn’t mean a single thing to them personally. Going to their jobs, coming home, talking stuff they don’t know or care about . . . God, doesn’t the boredom just kill them? It would me. I need more, Brynn. Don’t you?” He massagedhis neck with his uninjured arm. “Tell me where she is. Please. It’s going to get bad.”
    “I tell you and you let me live?”
    A pause. Then: “No, I can’t hardly do that. But I have your phone number. I know you have a husband and you might have children, probably do. If you tell me, they’ll be fine.”
    “What’s your full name?”
    He shook his head, giving her a frown.
    “Well, okay, Hart first or last name, listen: you’re under arrest.” She recited the Miranda warning, start to finish. She never used those laminated cards that bail bondsmen handed out. She’d memorized the language years ago.
    “You’re arresting me?”
    “Do you understand your rights?”
    Amused, he said, “I know you know where she is. You had a meeting point somewhere, didn’t you? I know that. Because that’s what I would have done.”
    Breaking the silence that followed he continued, “Life’s funny, isn’t it? Everything seems perfect. The plan, the background, the research, the details. You even nail that fishy human factor. Clear road, easy escape, you’ve distracted everybody who needs distracting. And then something small happens. Too many red lights, tire goes flat, an accident ties up traffic. And the psycho security guard, who just got a new forty-four Desert Eagle he’s itching to use, comes to work ten minutes early because he woke up before the alarm because a dog started barking two blocks away because a squirrel . . .”
    His voice faded. He tented his gloved fingers, wincing slightly when he moved his left arm. “And all your plans go up in smoke. The plans that couldn’t go wrong go wrong. That’s what happened to us tonight, Brynn. You and me both.”
    “Undo my hands, give me your weapon.”
    “You really think you’re going to arrest me, just like that?”
    “You weren’t paying attention. I already did.”
    He stretched again. “Not as young as I used to be.” He massaged his left arm. “How long have you been married?”
    She didn’t answer but glanced involuntarily at his gloved hand.
    “Marriage doesn’t suit me. Does it suit you, Brynn? . . . Come on, what’s Michelle to you?”
    “My job. That’s what she is.”
    “How important can a job be?”
    Brynn, wrinkling her brow cynically—and with pain. “You know the answer to that.”
    He began to speak then stopped. Tilted his head in concession.
    “You might’ve talked to my husband but you don’t know him. He’ll’ve put things in motion by now. He’s not falling asleep after the ten o’clock news.”
    Again, disappointment in his face. “That’s a lie, Brynn.”
    She inhaled slowly. “Maybe it is,” she found herself saying. “So. Okay. No more lies, Hart. Graham might’ve gone to sleep. But he’ll wake up about four A.M. for the bathroom. Which he does like clockwork. And whenI’m not there he’ll call my boss, and his first call’ll be to mobilize the State Police. You have some time but not a lot. And not nearly enough for you to get me to tell you where she is. And that’s not a lie.”
    “Okay, what we could do is . . .” His voice faded.
    Brynn laughed. “You were going to lie to me, weren’t you?”
    “Yeah, I was.” He grinned.
    “Going