The Bodies Left Behind

saw the white pickup and a squad car parked off the road, half hidden in some bushes about two hundred yards this side of the bridge.
    Jasons piloted his Lexus past them.
    So this was where they believed Deputy McKenzie and the two killers were heading.
    Jasons drove over the bridge, below which was an impressive moonlit gorge. Then as soon as the interstate was deserted he made a U over the flat, grassy median and crossed the bridge again going the other way. Then, about even with where the men had parked, on the other side, he nosed his car into a woody area off the shoulder and pulled to a stop.
    He climbed out and stretched. He opened the trunk and replaced his sports coat with a windbreaker and his dress shoes with boots. He took out a canvas bag, which he slung over his shoulder.
    Waiting for a massive Peterbilt tractor-trailer to pass, swirling dust and grit in its wake, he crossed asphalt, the median and then more road and vanished into the woods.

    AT THE POND, an oval far smaller but no less dark and eerie than Lake Mondac, Brynn touched her finger to her lips and glanced at Amy, smiling.
    The little girl nodded. She was wearing Brynn’s dark sweatshirt over her white T. Her legs were bare andpale but she didn’t seem cold. She’d given up asking about her mommy and now walked dutifully beside Brynn, cuddling Chester, a stuffed creature of indeterminate species.
    Surveying the pond, their rallying point, Brynn thought how happy she’d been when she’d first met Charlie Gandy. An ally, a weapon, a ride to safety.
    Control.
    And it had all been just a cruel joke. She didn’t even have her spear anymore. She felt wholly depleted. She pulled the girl down beside her and continued to scan the pond carefully.
    Motion. In the bushes. Brynn tensed and Amy looked at her warily.
    Was it Hart and his partner?
    Was it the wolf who’d attached himself to them?
    No. Brynn exhaled long. It was Michelle.
    The young woman was crouching, like a huntress. The spear in one hand and something in the other—the knife, it seemed. Waiting for the killers, defiant, tense, as if daring them to try to hurt her.
    Brynn and the girl started to make their way toward the woman. In a whisper Brynn called, “Michelle! It’s me.”
    The woman froze. But then Brynn moved forward and stepped into a wash of azure-white light from the moon.
    “Brynn!” Michelle cried, slipping the knife into her pocket and running forward. She stopped, seeing Amy standing bewildered behind Brynn’s back.
    The women embraced briefly and Michelle dropped to her knees, hugging the girl. “Who’s this?”
    Amy eased free from the overly emotional embrace.
    “This’s Amy. She’s going to come with us.” Brynn shook her head, forgoing for now the story of how she’d come by the new companion. The young woman was sensitive enough to ask no questions.
    “You’re adorable! And who’s this ?”
    “Chester.”
    “He’s as cute as you are.”
    The little girl remained somber, sensing the atmosphere of tragedy if not comprehending the actual events that had caused it. If she didn’t know about her mother’s fate, maybe she hadn’t witnessed the other killings.
    The moon was lower now, darkness was deepening. Curiously, Amy was the only one among them who didn’t seem uneasy at this. Maybe if you have parents like hers, fear of the dark doesn’t figure much in your life.
    The girl blinked at a flying squirrel as it sailed past. Brynn hoped she’d laugh, or show a bit of delight at the bizarre animal. Nothing. Her face was a mask.
    “I heard some noises,” Michelle said. Meaning the gunshots. “Our friends . . .?”
    “Still with us. One hurt a little more but mobile.”
    “So they could be on the way here.”
    “We have to get going. To the Snake River. We’ll climb the gorge and be at the interstate in forty-five minutes. An hour, tops.”
    “You said there was an easier way.”
    “Easier but a lot longer. And Hart thinks we’re going that way.”
    Michelle blinked. “You talked to him?”
    “Yep.”
    “You did?” the woman whispered in astonishment. “How’d that happen?”
    She told her briefly about her captivity in the van.
    “Oh, my God. He nearly killed you.”
    It was pretty close to mutual, Brynn reflected.
    “And what’d he say?”
    “Not much. But I told him we were making for the interstate, so he’ll think we’re going toward Point of Rocks.”
    “Like reverse psychology.”
    “Yep.” Brynn dug the map