He blinked moon, desert, canyon, mountain, and truck lights on the I-25.

  The last thing he’d ever see.

  Danny knew it was the end. Now was the time for prayer. He sought words in English, in Spanish, in Cherokee. He fumbled for words, he drowned in words, but no words came. He thought about everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks, ever since they had arrived at Denver International Airport. Could he have done things differently? Of course. He could have gone with the flow. Hidden. Dissolved. That’s what he should have done. More like his levelheaded mom, less like his screwup “father.”

  He thought about Nevada and L.A. and all the places he had been in his short life. He would never get to see any of them again. And he would die not knowing who did this to him.

  It didn’t seem fair.

  At the very least show me your face, Danny thought.

  The cat killer smiled under his ski mask.

  His thoughts were very different from Danny’s.

  Elated.

  Triumphant.

  Graduation day at last! And the boy’s heart as a trophy. Better than a cat heart by far. A candle against the dark. A chance to live, a chance to—

  He heard a sound and looked up. It was nothing, just a flock of geese tugging into the blue water of the infinite night …

  His head was swimming with adrenal hormones. Perhaps he should calm down. Do this right. Danny wasn’t going anywhere. He reached into his pocket for one of his morphine pills.

  The opium fell into the lining of his stomach and the acids worked on the chalky exterior of the pill, dissolving it. Slowly the opiates seeped through his stomach wall and into his blood.

  Everything relaxed. Everything was good.

  Nothing bad had happened in his life.

  Nothing bad was going to happen.

  There was only the present.

  The Master said so.

  The Master was right.

  Where was the Master?

  He looked around him.

  Geese, knife, snow, desert, rock.

  Beneath him, Danny.

  Groaning.

  Take a deep breath, Danny Lopez, deep enough to carry you across the Styx.

  It is time to die.

  The blade went up.

  The boy’s throat was bare.

  The blade swung down into the headlights of a car accelerating hard toward him along the gravel path.

  Headlights.

  A car.

  People.

  A trap!

  Forget the cat! Forget the boy!

  Run.

  Run!

  Into the woods. Deep into the woods.

  The trees will hide us. The trees are our confederates.

  Master, are you there?

  Yes, come on.

  The trees …

  Keep going. This way!

  More trees. Another hill. Finally, the mountain.

  Rest here for a moment and then we’ll run again.

  They’ll bring in the FBI for this one.

  But they won’t catch us.

  Distant flashlights.

  Cop cars.

  But they were miles below on the lower slopes.

  And gradually the conversation of mankind grew fainter and fainter, until it was lost completely and he was in the woods, his woods, among bear and fox and wolf and other predators, other allies of the dark, and before he knew it he was on the old familiar trails and as dawn rose red and gold on the eastern horizon he was back at his house and, at least for a while, safe.

  Danny woke suddenly and breathed in great gulps of air.

  He gasped and opened his eyes.

  Stars.

  Stars through a skylight.

  There was something in his arm.

  Sheets, coolness, a hum of machines.

  He was in a hospital.

  Someone had saved him.

  He lay for a while. Thought. Was Jeffrey OK? Had the cat killer got away? How come nothing hurt?

  He closed his eyes and when he opened them the room was filled with light and his mom was holding his hand.

  “They told us you were awake,” she said.

  “Jeffrey?” he said.

  “Your dad found him and brought him home.”

  “My dad? From Chicago?”

  “Walt. He followed you in the electric car.”

  “Silent but deadly, the Tesla,” Danny joked.

  Juanita smiled and stroked his forehead.

  “The guy? … The cat killer?” Danny asked.

  “I’m afraid he got away. I’m sorry. There’s a police officer outside who wants to … No, that can wait. How are you feeling?”

  “I feel fine. What happened? I mean … Why am I in here? What happened to me? Am I hurt? Did I have surgery?”

  “No. A concussion and three broken ribs, but everyone says you got off lightly.”

  “He Tasered me.”

  “They told me that. Are you OK?”

  “It was terrible. It hurt so bad, Mom. It really hurt.” Danny bit his lip.

  “You’re OK now,” she said. “You’re OK now.”

  “But they didn’t get him, did they?” Danny asked.

  “Not yet. But they will. It happened on the Ute Reservation, so of course the FBI are involved, not that idiotic sheriff.”

  “I broke some ribs?”

  “Three ribs.”

  “I can’t feel anything.”

  “Painkillers through the drip in your arm.”

  “There’s a drip in my arm?”

  Just then the door opened and a nurse asked him how he was doing. Danny said he was doing fine and the nurse asked if he would like some ice cream. He said yes and she brought him a cup of delicious vanilla ice cream with a little wooden spoon.

  “I’ve never been in a hospital before,” Danny said as his mom fed him.

  “I know.”

  “I like it.”

  “That’s good.”

  “What day is it?”

  “It’s Saturday.”

  “So, I wasn’t in a coma?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I didn’t have any dreams. They say you don’t have any dreams in a coma.”

  “You talked up a storm.”

  “I did?”

  “Who’s Indrid Cold?” his mom asked. “You were babbling about him or her.”

  “Uh … nobody,” Danny said.

  Juanita sighed. “You need more rest.”

  “Are they going to fix my ribs?”

  “Danny, Walt’s waiting outside. He’s been worried sick. Can I send him in to see you?”

  Danny nodded.

  Juanita got up and opened the door.

  Walt came in. He was pale.

  He sat next to Juanita.

  “You’re not mad at me, are you, son?” Walt said.

  Danny shook his head and started to cry.

  He cried for a long while and Juanita took one hand and Walt the other.

  “Thank you, Dad,” Danny said when the tears had stopped.

  Walt nodded and swallowed hard. “Oh God, here come the waterworks,” he said.

  “Are they going to fix my ribs?” Danny asked, to help Walt out.

  Walt smiled. “They say there’s not much they can do about ribs. Ribs just kind of fix themselves. But you’ll be OK.” His voice was frail and he looked old.

  “You followed me, didn’t you?” Danny said.

  Walt nodded. “Yeah, I followed you.”

  “Bob told you I was going to stake out Tony’s house, didn’t he? He’s a traitor.”

  “Bob did the right thing.”

  “He lied to me.”

  “Bob was really concerned about you. I called him this morning. He was so relieved that you were OK.”

  Danny knew Bob and Walt had done the right thing, but even so it was still a betrayal and that hurt a little.

  “I’m never talking to him again,” Danny said.

  “I hope you change your mind about that. Bob really likes you,” Walt said.

  Danny nodded. “We’ll see.”

  “Do you want to hear the details? Are you strong enough?” Walt asked.

  “Sure. Spill. I’m listening.”

  Walt explained that he had snuck out after Danny, but lost him when he went off on the skateboard. He had fired up the Tesla and chased after him, almost killing him at the junction on Alameda. Then he’d tracked him, arriving just in time to stop the cat killer from cutting Danny’s throat.

  The cat killer had run off into the trees.

  Walt had called 911 and Jeffrey had come sauntering out of the shrubs as if nothing had happened.

  “You saved my life,” Danny said.

  “We found this near you; it must have fallen out of your jeans,” Walt said, giving Danny a little postcard of the Eiffel Tower painted in watercolors.

  Danny didn’t get the significance of it and merely nodded. Juanita put it up next to his water jug, where it looked nice.

  “There’s a whole roomful of people waiting out there for you,” Walt said.

  “Like who?” Danny wondered.

  “Like cops and a couple of your friends from school and your principal, too.”

  “Mr. Lebkuchen?” Danny said, surprised, and then let out a yawn.

  “Let them all wait,” Juanita said.

  “Yeah,” Danny said, and closed his eyes.

  When he woke the next time a nurse was there, reading his chart. “How are you doing?” she asked.

  “OK,” he said.

  “Would you like anything?”

  “Could I get more ice cream?” he wondered.

  “Sure.”

  Juanita came in with the ice cream and after the ice cream was finished she asked him if he was strong enough to talk to someone.

  He said he was.

  A woman came in.

  She was an FBI agent named Anna Ford. They talked for half an hour. Danny couldn’t give her a description and he said that although the killer had spoken to him he hadn’t recognized his voice. Anna asked if he might be able to pick it out from a group of samples, and he said maybe. Anna gave him her card and told him that if he remembered anything at all he was to give her a call, day or night.

  “You’ll catch him, though, won’t you?” Danny said as she left.

  “We’ll do our very best,” she replied. “Copycats—er, no pun intended—are sometimes more violent than the actual perpetrators.”

  “What do you mean ‘copycats’?”

  “Well, you know, kids or whoever, trying to get some of the limelight for themselves,” Anna said.

  “I don’t understand. This was the cat killer, I tracked the actual guy,” Danny said.

  Anna shook her head. “We have that guy in custody. We got a confession out of him. This must be someone trying to poach on his territory. It’s still very dangerous, of course, but don’t worry, we’ll catch him.”

  Danny said nothing until Anna had gone.

  “They still don’t get it. Nobody gets it but me!” Danny said.

  “Don’t excite yourself, darling. The FBI are on the case; they’ll take care of it,” Juanita said soothingly.

  Danny decided to get Mr. Lebkuchen over with next. He came in, warmly greeted Juanita, sat by Danny, and asked if he was OK. He was wearing his coat and his driving gloves and Danny had a feeling that he was in a hurry, that he’d only come because he had to, not because he was genuinely concerned about his welfare.

  “So how are you doing, young Daniel?” Mr. Lebkuchen asked far too loudly.

  Danny said he was fine. Mr. Lebkuchen told Danny that he was an example of everything that was good about CJHCS and that his parents must be very proud of him. Juanita assured him that they were. Mr. Lebkuchen further explained that whenever Danny was well enough to return to school, they would have a special assembly in his honor.

  With a pleading look to his mother, Danny begged Mr. Lebkuchen not to do such a thing and to treat him exactly the same as before.

  “I really don’t want any special attention or treatment. Please,” he insisted.

  “But you’re a hero, a very special boy,” Mr. Lebkuchen said, as if he were talking about Pinocchio.

  “No, please. I’m just the same kid as last week who was in detention. What I did wasn’t heroic. It was stupid. I risked my cat, I let the guy get away, I got Walt involved, and I can’t even give the FBI a proper description. I’m a big screwup.”

  Mr. Lebkuchen did not reply, but after a moment Juanita asked, “You were in detention, Danny?”

  “Yes,” Danny and Mr. Lebkuchen said together.

  “Of course,” Mr. Lebkuchen said unctuously, “there will be no more talk of detentions or punishments. Danny will be getting the gold-star treatment from now on and I’ll make sure that everyone—”

  “No, no, no, no!” Danny begged. “Please. Don’t do any assemblies. Give me the detention. No special treatment. Please, Mom, tell him,” Danny said.

  “Danny’s always been a little introverted,” Juanita said, as if he weren’t there. “He, uh, never knew his real father. That might have something to do with it.”

  Mr. Lebkuchen smiled. “Yes, we’ve talked about that. Danny and I are quite close. My father died when I was quite young. It can have an effect on a boy.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Juanita said. “Was he ill or …”

  “Yes. I’m afraid so. He had Alexander disease, and unfortunately it’s hereditary.”

  “Oh, I am sorry,” Juanita said.

  There was an awkward silence before Lebkuchen stood up and made his good-byes. “I’m afraid I must be off. I’ve got an interview with Channel 7 in Denver. CJHCS is being given the governor’s award for best school in the state next week,” he said happily.

  That’s all he cares about, not me, not the madman running around the country killing cats, Danny thought.

  “Should I send in your little friends?” Juanita asked after Mr. Lebkuchen had left.

  “You might as well,” Danny said.

  There were surprisingly many of them. Hector, Tony, Cooper, Olivia, Charlie, and Tom. For a kid who didn’t make friends easily, Danny suddenly had a lot of friends.

  They asked the usual questions. Danny tried to answer some of them, but was too exhausted to explain things well.

  The kids talked among themselves. Tony, Olivia, Cooper, and Charlie talked about The Lion King, but neither Hector nor Tom had gone so they couldn’t contribute much.

  When everyone had told him what a cool dude he was and how brave he was, and after Charlie and Tom had shaken his hand too hard and Olivia had kissed him on the cheek, Danny asked the others to leave and give him and Tony a minute.

  Juanita hustled them all out and gave Danny an embarrassing smile.

  “You too, Mom,” Danny said, and she went with the others.

  “What is it?” Tony asked, a little embarrassed herself.

  “You left me a message. You said you’ve got vital information,” Danny said.

  Tony’s eyes widened with excitement. “There were two things.”

  “Go on.”

  “I used to get these weird anonymous letters. Crazy stuff. Anyway, I stopped getting them a few months ago and I figured it was just some creepy boy trying to impress me. One of the letters said something about a cat. I don’t remember what, exactly.”

  “What was in these letters?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, I threw them all out as soon as I opened them. The last was months ago. They were all crazy stuff. Boy stuff. Space and war and how I was the coolest chick ever.”

  “That doesn’t really sound like it’s got anything to do with this. Except for whatever that cat thing was.”

  “No, it doesn’t, does it?” Tony said with a little smile. “I didn’t think anything more about it. But then while you were sleeping, your mom asked if we knew who Indrid Cold was; you’ve been babbling about Indrid Cold. The letters I got were all signed Indrid Cold.”

  A chill went down Danny’s spine and he told her about the note that had lured him to the science room.

  “I Googled Indrid Cold,” Danny said.

  “Me too,” Tony replied. “It didn’t get me anywhere.”

  “Me either.”

  “Do you think that they’re the same person? The cat killer and the letter writer?”

  Danny shook his head. “I don’t know. When did the letters stop?”

  “Before Christmas.”

  “And when did the cat killings start?”

  “After Christmas?”

  “Yeah, January.”

  They thought about this for a couple of minutes, but they didn’t get anywhere with it. Indrid Cold was probably a boy who had a thing for Tony. Was he also the cat killer? It was impossible to say.

  “What was the second piece of information?” Danny asked.

  Tony smiled again. “OK, so I was thinking about what you were saying about Mr. Lebkuchen, so I called up Jenny, that’s Dr. Precious’s secretary—he’s our dentist—and I told her that I was Mr. L.’s nurse from Kaiser Permanente and said that we were running a double prescription check to see if his dentist had prescribed him any painkillers. They do that, you know. In case you go doctor shopping. I saw it on 60 Minutes.”

  Danny was flabbergasted. “You did what?”

  Tony fumbled in the back pocket of her jeans for a sec, took out a piece of paper, and continued. “So Jenny’s pretty trusting, and she comes back on the phone and she’s got the list of all the prescriptions he’s been taking, and I ask her to read it back to me and I write them down and thank her and hang up. And then I go to the Internet and look them all up. So he’s taking some hayfever medication and he got a prescription of Ambien once—that’s a sleeping pill. But he’s also taking Zenapax, which is used in the treatment of multiple sclerosis, which is not a fatal disease at all. But he’s also taking Teriflunomide, which, combined with Zenapax or a generic equivalent—I’m reading this, by the way—is the only known treatment for adult-onset dysmyelogenic leukodystrophy, or Alexander disease. So the upshot of that is that—”

  “He’s got Alexander disease.”

  “Yes.”

  “He just told us that. Me and Mom.”

  “He did?” Tony said as all the excitement drained from her face.

  “Yeah.”

  “So it’s not a secret?”

  “I guess not.”

  “So we’re sort of back to, uh—”