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He hefted the shotgun onto his shoulder and started for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going after the dead woman’s partner. After that, I’m heading for Maria
Amerling watched him go, but he didn’t say what was on his mind.
I think we’re all in serious trouble.
Time melted.
Scarfe felt it more acutely than the rest. They should have been at Lubey’s house by now, but instead they were still walking through the woods, and the glow of the fire was no longer always visible to them. Even Moloch seemed to realize it. He paused and stared around him, momentarily confused.
“We’re lost,” said Scarfe.
“No,” said Moloch. “We’re still on the trail.”
“Then the path is going in circles.”
“Powell should have caught up by now,” said Dexter.
Moloch nodded. “Head back down the trail, see if he’s on his way.”
Dexter left at speed and Moloch drew the map from inside his jacket. Scarfe, after a moment’s hesitation, joined him in examining it, while Shepherd leaned against a tree and said nothing.
“We got on the trail about here,” said Scarfe, indicating with a finger, “and Lubey’s place is here. That’s fifteen minutes on a good day, twenty or more in weather like this.”
“It has to be close. Maybe we passed it.”
But when they looked up, the light from the fire was still ahead of them.
“Makes no sense,” said Scarfe. He looked to Shepherd for support, but Shepherd was not looking at him. He was staring into the forest, his hands shielding his eyes. Moloch called his name.
“I thought I saw something,” said Shepherd. “Out there.”
He pointed into the depths of the woods. Scarfe squinted, but could see nothing. The snow was blowing in his face, making it difficult to distinguish even the shapes of the more distant trees. He could smell smoke, though.
“It’s the fire,” he said. “Maybe you saw smoke.”
No, thought Shepherd, not smoke. He was about to say more when Dexter returned from his brief reco
“There’s no sign of him,” he told Moloch.
Moloch kicked at the newly fallen snow. “If he’s lost, he’ll find his way back to the boat.”
“If he’s lost,” echoed Dexter.
“You think a dummy with an arrow through him took him? Fuck him. If he got washed away, so much more money for the rest of you. We keep going.”
They shouldered their weapons and followed Moloch deeper into the forest.
Chapter Fifteen
Maria
She knows I’m ru
Maria
She had been so distracted these last few days that she hadn’t bothered to watch anything on TV except light comedies, and her absence from the market meant that she hadn’t picked up a newspaper since the previous weekend. Something terrible had happened and now he was free, because he would not allow others to punish her on his behalf. No, he would want to do it himself. If they were in Maine, then he was with them. They had found her, and Moloch was probably already on his way to the island. Maybe he even had men here already, waiting for her. She would get back to Bo
Maria
Patricia would never tell. She would die before she told.
Jesus, Pat, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I was so scared of him. I thought I had no other choice. He hurt me, and he was starting to hurt Da
Except that sometimes when she awoke in their bed during those final months, the room rich with darkness or the first dawn light seeping through the drapes, she would turn to him and find him awake, staring lazily at her, as if daring her to take him on, as though guessing the thoughts that were in her head and inviting her to test her strength against him. Then, when she did not respond, he would draw her to him and, without tenderness, work himself inside her, his hands pi
Had she stayed with him she would have been dead within the year, of that she was certain. He might have let Da
Then there was Karen. They had stayed in touch and Maria