They shot past the hospital doing fifty-five, still accelerating as they approached the darkness beyond the edge of town.

When the road entered the forest, Marcus downshifted into third.

Ethan had been uncomfortable walking home, but at least he’d been moving enough to keep the blood circulating. This was miserable, the wind screaming into the Jeep, chilling him down to his core.

Marcus downshifted again and veered off the road into the trees.

Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly, but the last thing Ethan intended to do was show up for a meeting with Pilcher.

As they neared the boulders, Marcus reached into his parka and pulled out something that resembled a garage door opener.

In the distance, a triangle of light began to spread across the snow.

Marcus brought the Jeep to a stop at the foot of the rock outcropping.

The wide door in the cliff was still opening, sliding up and back into the rock.

Ethan’s fingers were so numb he could hardly feel them gripping the knife.

He flicked open the blade and leaned over in one movement.

The curved point digging into the side of Marcus’s windpipe before he’d even thought to react.

His right hand slipped off the steering wheel, reaching for the gun.

Ethan said, “I will open you up.”

Marcus put his hand back on the wheel.

“Squeeze that wheel like your life depended on it, because it does.”

The mountain was wide open now, light shining out from the tunnel onto the snow and the surrounding trees.

Ethan spoke into Marcus’s ear.

“Very slowly, take your right hand off the wheel, reach down, and shift into first. Keep your hand on the stick and drive into the tunnel. Once we’re inside, turn off the engine. You understand what I’m telling you?”

Marcus nodded.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Marcus, but I will. I’ve killed before. In war. Even in this town. I’ll do it again. Don’t think I won’t just because I know you. That will not be a factor.”

Marcus’s hand shook as he palmed the gearshift and worked it into first.

He gave a little gas, and they rolled slowly into the tunnel.

Marcus brought the Jeep to a full stop just inside like he’d been told.

As the door lowered behind them, Ethan pulled the gun out of Marcus’s holster—a Heckler & Koch USP, chambered for .40 cal.

He wondered if there were cameras watching.

Marcus said, “You’re finished. You know that, right?”

Ethan twirled the HK so he gripped it by the barrel. Marcus saw it coming, started to cover up, but Ethan caught him flush on the side of the head with the butt of the composite stock.

Marcus sagged back and would’ve toppled out of the Jeep but his seat belt caught him. Ethan snatched his identification card off his coat, unbuckled him, and let gravity pull him the rest of the way down onto the pavement.

Then he unbuckled himself and climbed over into the driver seat.

Jammed his foot into the clutch.

Cranked the engine.

Soon, he was hurtling up the road into the mountain.

The giant, hanging globe lights hummed above him in the massive cavern, but otherwise, the superstructure was quiet.

Ethan checked the load on the HK.

Had to laugh.

Of course there was nothing in the chamber.

He ejected the magazine—empty as well.

Tossing the pistol into the backseat, he stepped down out of the Jeep.

At the sliding glass doors, he dug Marcus’s ID card out of his pocket and swiped it through the reader.

The Level 1 corridor was empty at this hour of the morning.

Ethan took the stairwell up to the next floor.

The long stretch of checkered tile gleamed under the fluorescent lights and the corridor echoed with his footfalls. It felt strangely illicit walking these hallways by himself.

Unsupervised. Unchaperoned.

Down toward the end, he stopped at the door leading into surveillance and peered through the glass.

Someone sat at the console scrolling through the camera feeds—mostly shots of people tossing and turning and f**king in their beds, bodies indistinct through the glow of night vision.

He swiped Marcus’s keycard.

The door unlocked.

He stepped inside.

The man at the console swiveled around in his chair.

Ted.

Head of surveillance.

The last guy Ethan was hoping to find at the controls.

“Sheriff.” There was a note of alarm in Ted’s voice. “I didn’t know you were dropping by.”

“Yeah, I didn’t put this one on the schedule.”

Ethan moved toward the wall of screens as the door closed after him.

He said, “Show me your hands.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand what ‘show me your hands’ means, Ted?”

Ethan took out the knife.

Ted slowly raised his hands.

The room smelled of stale coffee.

Ethan said, “Anyone next door?”

“Two guys,” Ted said.

“Any reason to expect your techs might make a surprise visit?”

“I don’t think so. They typically keep their noses to the grindstone.”

“Let’s hope so for everyone’s health and safety.”

Ethan eased down into the chair next to Ted’s. The man’s hands shook and this gave Ethan a small push of relief. If he was afraid, he could be controlled. The lenses in the man’s glasses were as big as windows and the large, dilated pupils behind them looked bleary and fried.

“You been up all night, Ted?”

“Yes.”

“How long until you’re off shift? And please understand that lying to me about this is the last thing you want to do.”

Ted rotated his wrist so he could see the face of his watch.

“Thirty-four minutes.”

“Are you scared, Ted?”

The man nodded slowly.

“That’s good. You should be scared.”

“Why are you doing this, Sheriff?”

“To get some answers. You can put your hands on your lap, Ted.”

The man wiped his brow on his shirtsleeves and placed his palms flat against his cotton pants.

“I just want to make something very clear,” Ethan said.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know if you have an alarm in here, some sneaky way of notifying people you’re in trouble. But if that happens, if you make that mistake, I will kill you.”