We’re nearing town when we meet Anders, pacing the path. He looks behind us and says, “You didn’t find Brady.”

“We did,” I say. “Someone didn’t want us bringing him back alive.”

Anders swears. “The sniper.”

I make a noise he can interpret as assent for now.

“How’s Kenny?” I say, dreading the answer.

“Stable. That’s all I can tell you. We got him back, and now we’re getting the swelling down so Mathias and I can see the bullet. Unfortunately, that’s not our biggest problem right now. Phil is ready to put Wallace on a plane and fly him out of here. I was giving you guys another sixty seconds before I stopped him at gunpoint.”

We break into a jog, and I say, “Is Phil in on it? Or is this the council?”

“No idea. I told Phil what Wallace did. Told him you think he’s the killer, not Brady. It seemed like he believed me. Then he starts packing. I say hell, no, not until you guys get back. He reminds me that, in Val’s absence, he’s in charge. I argued, but he ignored me. Acted like the walls were talking and then went to check the plane.”

“Where is he now?”

“He ordered me to bring Wallace to the hangar. I told him to go fuck himself and came to see if you guys were nearby.”

We head straight for the hangar. Anders tells us Jacob and Storm are fine. He managed to persuade Jacob to sneak into my old place through the back door, and he’s recovering there.

We’re nearing the hangar when we hear the plane start.

“Shit!” Anders says.

We’re about twenty meters away when Phil appears, doing a last visual check of the runway.

“I’m taking the prisoner, Sheriff,” he calls when he sees us.

“The hell you are,” Dalton says.

“Actually, yes, I am, and while I know you need to bluster in front of Will and Casey, let’s skip that part. Your protest is duly noted. But it doesn’t change the fact that you are not in charge here. I can assure you, Mr. Wallace will be properly dealt with.”

“We have a patient in urgent need—” I begin.

“And you have Dr. Atelier. Plus the sheriff’s plane, should the council decide to extract Kenny.”

“I want to talk to Wallace,” I say. “I have questions that require answers.”

“No, Casey, you have questions you would like answered, and you wish to stall me while you figure out how to stop me.”

“I want to figure out how you can take him safely,” I say. “He’s a dangerous psychopath—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Phil says, as if I’m telling him Wallace might prove an annoying seatmate.

Dalton’s gaze swings toward the hangar. Then he starts to run.

Phil holds his ground, saying, “If you physically try to stop me, Eric—”

Dalton swerves around the hangar instead, heading for the rear door. I follow, and Phil calls, “Whatever you two have in mind, it is a waste of time. If you attempt to stop me, there will be consequences. I would suggest, Casey, that you . . .”

I don’t catch the rest, drowned out by the sound of the plane.

The back door to the hangar stands open.

Dalton circles into the trees to sneak up on the other side. Anders has joined us, and he gets into the trees, angled where he can cover me.

I swing through the doorway. There’s a figure at the open passenger side. A small one wearing a hooded jacket. When I see her, there’s a moment of confusion as complete as when I first spotted Val. Then it’s like dominoes falling, connections made in an instant.

“Harper,” I say. “Step away from the plane.”

She turns and sees the gun. Hers starts to rise, but Anders barrels through, saying, “Drop the weapon!”

She looks toward the open main doors. Dalton appears there with his gun trained on her.

“Weapon down!” Anders barks. “Now!”

“Do as he says, hon.” Wallace’s muffled voice emerges from inside the plane. “They will shoot you.”

She lowers her gun to the ground.

“Shit, it’s just a kid,” Anders says, as he gets his first good look at her.

“A kid who murdered three of her fellow settlers. Including her own grandmother.”

Harper just levels her gaze on me, and I’ve seen that look before, in teens I’ve arrested. Some cry. Some rage. Some just give me this look, a cold So what?

It’s chilling enough when it’s a kid I’ve arrested for breaking into a house. For this? “Chilling” does not begin to describe it.

I want to ask, “Why?” But I know better. I’ll just see another look like I did when I arrested those kids, when I felt compelled to ask why, and they rolled their eyes like I was just another stupid grown-up, asking stupid questions.

The “why?” isn’t about motive. It’s more of a “how?” How could you do such a thing? That is a question Harper cannot answer. No one can.

“You said Albie wanted to go back and steal the horses,” I say. “But your grandmother and the other man stopped him. You still wanted to do it, though. You told Albie that, after the others went to sleep, didn’t you?”

“He acted like I was a little kid. He ignored me. I had a plan for getting the horses. He wouldn’t listen. When I said I’d go myself, he threatened to whip me. Whip me. Then he said even if I stayed in camp, he was going to tell my grandmother. She’d have to tell Edwin, and I’d never get to go on another hunting trip again.”

“So you waited until he went back to his guard post, snuck up, and slit his throat. Except the old man heard, so you had to kill him. And then your grandmother. She tried to get away. You couldn’t let her. You chased her down and stabbed her.”

“It was Albie’s fault. He was going to tattle on me because I offered to help him get those horses.”

“It wasn’t the horses you wanted. It was the dog.”

Her lip curls. “I don’t care now. I don’t need a dog. I’m going down south.”

“And Mr. Wallace here is going to buy all the puppies you want, right? You really are a child, aren’t you, Harper?”

She yanks a knife from her pocket. I just hold my gun on her.

She sneers. “You won’t shoot me.”

She reaches into the cockpit to cut the strap on Wallace’s hand. I lunge to grab her, but a voice says, “I can’t let you do that, Casey.”

Phil’s pointing a gun at me.

“She’s a child,” he says. “I know you’re upset, but we can resolve this without violence.”

Anders lets out a ragged laugh. “Please tell me you’re part of this escape attempt. Because otherwise you’re the biggest idiot alive.”

He’s not part of it. If Phil planned to spirit Wallace off to safety, Wallace wouldn’t be letting Harper free him. She’s cut the strap on his hands, and now she’s pointing the knife at me as Wallace climbs into the pilot’s seat.

“Guess you have your pilot’s license after all,” I say.

“Of course,” Wallace says. “Harper?”

She backs into the passenger seat.

Phil comes around the side of the plane. “This is pointless, Gregory. You will be a hunted man. Don’t take a child into that.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” I mutter. “You really are an idiot.” I raise my gun. “Wallace? Get out of the plane.”

Harper’s hand swings up, and I’m thinking it’s just the knife. It’s not.

I backpedal. Phil grabs me as if I’m . . . I don’t know. Fleeing? Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dalton lunge. Then Harper presses the button, and the pepper spray hits me full in the face. I double over, blinded. Phil howls in agony. Even Dalton curses, as stray particles hit him.

Anders shouts “Stop!” but he’s the farthest away, unable to fire from his angle. I hear the door slamming, the plane rolling, Anders yells. A shot fires. Another, hitting metal. Then the engine roars as the plane takes off.