“You’re going to get hurt. Let’s go—”

  Avery wrapped her arms around Anna and pulled her tight. She held her sister for an extended moment, longer probably than she’d held her at any moment since they were children. Anna’s body trembled. She sniffled.

  Avery held her as long as she could, then released her.

  “I love you, kiddo. Now go. Just go.”

  Avery turned, walked past the immobile man on the ground. The farmworkers needed help.

  And Hank. Yes, Hank. She couldn’t deny she was going back for him as well.

  87

  Hogan took a step toward the cabin and stopped.

  If the two shots Collins had fired into Yates hadn’t woken the whole place, his two shots into the cop—cop?—would have.

  Hogan wanted to make sure the man was dead, but he didn’t trust himself to stay on his feet. He shifted the gun to his left hand and reached with his right. His hand scrabbled around his back, trying to find the object buried in his flesh. He couldn’t reach it or feel it, but it was there. Stuck like a giant thorn.

  “Shit.”

  He needed to talk to Taylor, needed to let him know what was happening since all hell had broken loose.

  Hogan turned, started up the trail to the house. It might be the last thing he was able to do, but he intended to carry out the mission and report to the boss. Taylor could decide what to do after that—send his family away. Dig in for a siege. Hogan would help him in any way he could. But he couldn’t help Taylor if he didn’t fill him in.

  Hogan’s steps up the trail were cautious ones. It required effort to move one foot in front of the other. And he wanted to be careful not to fall, since he wasn’t sure he’d be able to push himself off the ground again if he did.

  The house came into sight in the distance, all the windows lit up like the family was having a party. They’d heard the shots. Taylor would be inside reassuring his wife and kids. Anna Rogers had run out, looking for her sister. Somehow Taylor hadn’t been able to keep her inside. Hogan knew Brittany wanted to get to know Anna better, already thought of her as a kind of kid sister or something. She wouldn’t be happy if Anna never came back.

  Hogan trusted Collins to find the girl—if only because there was nowhere for her to run. In the dark and without a phone or a light, it would be tough to get away. But she had her sister with her, and the sister was a tough nut. She’d knocked Collins down, led Anna away into the dark.

  Hogan tried to focus on the task at hand. He crossed the yard, stumbled slightly on a rock, and moved toward the porch steps. As he did, Taylor came out of the house.

  “What the hell is going on?” he asked through gritted teeth. He came down into the yard. When he drew close to Hogan, a look of surprise crossed his face. “You look like an ad for death. What happened to you?”

  “It’s not important. . . . What’s important is the Rogers girls, both of them. They ran off. Collins is after them.”

  “What was the shooting?” Taylor asked.

  Hogan looked past his boss, saw Brittany appear in the doorway of the house. She stood with her arms crossed. He could tell she wasn’t going anywhere. She intended to hear whatever Hogan had to say. And Taylor wasn’t going to tell her to leave.

  “That farmworker we were worried about . . . the skinny guy . . .” Hogan took a deep breath. The yard swirled a little, like he was on a carnival ride. He took another deep breath, made sure his feet were planted on the ground. “He might be a cop. . . . Yates knew. . . . I had to shoot. . . .”

  “Are you okay?” Taylor came closer, examined Hogan’s face.

  Hogan grimaced again, involuntarily reached for his back, trying again to grab whatever was planted there.

  Taylor saw the movement and went behind him. “Oh, God,” he said. “Somebody stabbed you. What is this?”

  “The guy . . . the cop . . . he stuck me twice.”

  “It’s still in you. I can see the handle.”

  “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

  Brittany came down the porch steps and crossed to where the two men stood. She came right up into Hogan’s face, her eyes flashing in the dark. “Where’s Anna? Tell me.”

  “She ran off. With her sister.”

  “Ran off where?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Toward the river. Collins went after them. To bring them back.”

  Brittany looked at Taylor. “He’d better not hurt her.”

  “He won’t,” Hogan said. “He knows better. But we can . . . we can go help. . . .”

  “Hogan’s right,” Taylor said. “Why don’t we get you inside and help you with this injury? Collins will bring them back.”

  “Taylor, so help me God, that girl had better not get hurt. And I mean not a scratch. She’s my niece, not some random fieldworker you all treat like a dog.”

  Taylor stared at his wife. “Okay, I’ll go make sure. You take Hogan inside.”

  “He’s not coming in the house with a knife sticking out of his back. We have children.”

  “Then take him to the garage—”

  “I’m okay,” Hogan said. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to focus. He felt steadier after standing still for a moment. Either he’d grown used to the pain or it was easing a little. “Really. I can go with you. I walked up here. It’s downhill going back.”

  “Take him with you, Taylor. I want him away from the house. And he can control Collins better than you can.”

  “But his back—”

  Brittany reached out and turned Hogan’s body to the right.

  “Wait,” Taylor said. “You’re not supposed to—”

  Hogan didn’t have time to think about what she was doing, but he felt something change in his back. A quick stab of pain that made him cry out. And then relief—like pressure had been removed.

  He turned and looked. Brittany held a bloody steak knife with a four-inch blade in her hand.

  “It’s out,” she said. “Okay? He’s fine. Go find my niece and bring her back home. Go.”

  Hogan’s back felt better. And he didn’t see many other choices.

  He turned, and with Taylor by his side, they started down the trail.

  88

  Avery started back across the fields and toward the trail.

  Saying good-bye to Anna had made her more emotional than she’d expected.

  She hoped like hell that Hank was right, and the trail through the woods led to Highway 9. And help. And that Anna would make it out.

  As she trudged over the uneven ground, crunching leaves and pebbles, she realized she cared more for Anna’s safety than for her own. She’d gotten her sister out. She’d made a difference for a change.

  Maybe she could even do more. . . .

  Her eyes were well-adjusted to the dark. She heard the river tumbling as she got closer. Something crested the ridge and moved at the top of the trail. Avery tried to see if it was an animal or a person.

  But she knew quickly—Collins. Coming after her.

  He moved down the grade slowly, watching every inch of ground ahead of him. But he thought that Avery had left with Anna and that they were together, either searching for the trail on the other side of the cropland or else wandering around in the dark, unsure of where to go.

  He wouldn’t expect one or both of them to turn around and come back to the farm after running away. So that gave Avery an advantage.

  She slipped off the path. She found some tall weeds and nestled her body among them. She tried to regulate her breathing. In the quiet night, she started to gasp like a beached fish but suppressed the noise. The weeds and long grass tickled her arms and face. A buzzing insect landed on her ear, and she brushed it away.

  Collins came closer. He was fifty feet away from her spot. He didn’t appear to have a light, and in the darkness there was no way for him to see her unless he stepped off the path and really, really looked. He could lay his eyes directly on her in the dark and still miss her.

  She could just let him pass. He was clearly going to go all the way across the cropland to the far side to see if Anna and Avery were over there looking for the trail out. Avery was more than happy to let him slip past, and then, when he was far enough away, she could continue on up the path to the camp. She could look for Hank—and help the others get out.

  Her mind locked up like an engine without oil.

  What good would it do to let Collins pass if he might somehow catch up to Anna? Or if Avery tried to lead the others out the same way Anna went—and Collins was down there ahead of them? Waiting. Blocking the way.

  Her mouth was dry. Cold sweat ran down her neck and under her shirt. She couldn’t let Collins pass freely. It was too risky to have him wandering around loose, able to do harm to everyone else.

  She needed to stop him. For real.

  But without a weapon of any kind—and him with a gun—how could she?

  Collins was thirty feet away.

  Avery felt around in the grass and weeds. She figured she’d end up being covered by every form of poison ivy that grew in the wild. And she imagined her hands closing on a snake or a frog as she groped in the dark.

  Her hand bumped against something. A jagged shape in the darkness.

  A rock. Almost twice the size of her hand, with sharp edges. She gripped it, and it fit her palm like a small basketball. She could hold on to it and take one good swing.

  She needed to get close to Collins without him hearing. And then—

  If she missed . . .

  She couldn’t think about missing.

  Collins was twenty feet away.

  Avery gripped the rock tighter, felt the edges dig into her flesh. Every muscle in her body tensed. She waited in a crouch, like a sprinter on the starting blocks. When Collins came by and moved a little past her, she could spring onto the path. She needed to move and swing the rock in one motion. With nothing wasted.

  Ten feet and then five. He moved his head from side to side, checking the ground. She saw him. He was a man. He was flesh. When the rock made contact with his body, it would do damage and cause considerable pain.

  It could kill him.

  But she had no choice. Too many other lives, including Anna’s, were at stake.

  Collins drew even with her and then moved past her. Avery felt nauseated. Her mouth was bone-dry.

  She needed to act.

  She moved forward quickly. She raised the rock and went for Collins.

  As she moved from the brush, she stepped on a twig she didn’t see. It snapped, like a bone cracking in the quiet night.

  Collins turned her way, his gun raised. Avery brought the rock down, but Collins’ turn meant she struck him a glancing blow, against the side of his neck.

  He cried out in pain, tried to work the gun around in Avery’s direction. Avery grabbed for the gun with her left hand. With her right, she swung the rock again. She managed a better trajectory and slammed the rock against the side of his head. It made a sick thump, like a watermelon hitting the ground.

  Collins’ body went limp.

  Avery backed up, let him fall to the ground. He lay there, not making a sound. The gun fell next to his hand, and Avery kicked it away. Then she bent down, fearing that she’d killed him. But when she leaned closer, she heard his breathing. Slightly shallow but there.

  She felt relieved. Although she wasn’t sure why she cared what happened to him. He’d have a hell of a headache once he woke up.

  Avery picked up the gun, stuffed it into her pants. She grabbed his flashlight as well.

  She took hold of Collins by one of his arms and dragged him off the trail and into the weeds where she had hidden. He moaned a little, a smear of blood in his hair. She wished she had something to tie him with, and if she took the time to look around, she might find something.

  But it was more important to get moving. She hoped she’d hit him hard enough to keep him out of commission until she got off the farm.

  She even thought about hitting him again just to make sure. But she decided to move on. She started up the trail toward the cabins and the farmworkers.

  And Hank.

  89

  When Hogan was halfway to the first set of cabins, the pain came back.

  Hogan felt the stickiness of the blood between his shirt and his skin. He started to sweat, even though the night was cool. He stopped on the trail.

  Taylor looked his way. “What is it?”

  “I’ll be okay. . . .”

  “Do you want to go back?”

  “No. I just— I’m okay.” Hogan blinked a few times, tried to keep his vision from swimming. “Just a second.”

  “You really think this guy is a cop?” Taylor asked.

  “I do. . . .”

  “And you shot him?”

  “I did. Twice.”

  “Fuck. And Yates?”

  “Yes.” Hogan took a few breaths, straightened up. “I’m okay. I’m not sure your wife should have pulled that knife out. It might have been better to leave it in.”

  “She likes to solve problems when she sees them. You’re supposed to do that too, not make more of them. Let’s go before things get more out of hand.”

  Hogan’s pain was replaced by a sliver of anger. Everything had started to go wrong when they let Anna Rogers onto the property. When Brittany quickly grew attached to her because they were supposedly related. They could have handled the cop. But Hogan wasn’t sure they could handle the problems between a husband and wife. Who could? Family fucked up everything.

  “I’m ready,” Hogan said through gritted teeth.

  They continued on in the dark. It helped Hogan to inventory his tasks, to list them and then cross them off as they were accomplished. So, first: They needed to dispose of two bodies. They needed to keep the farmworkers out of the way.

  And they needed to find the two Rogers girls and bring them back before they made any more trouble. He felt better with the list in his head. Taylor and he could do it. Clean up and control.

  He’d worry about his stab wounds later. The knife blade wasn’t too long. It seemed not to have hit his lung or anything else too important. If it had, he’d have been in a lot worse shape. He’d seen knife wounds before. He knew what bad ones looked like.

  The south set of cabins came into view. Hogan expected to find nothing there. Collins had warned the workers to stay inside, to keep their noses out of everything that was going on. They would. They’d seen what happened to others who got out of line. Collins had counted on that, used it to keep the operation running. It would only be at the north set of cabins, where the cop’s dead or injured body waited, that they would have a mess to clean up.

  As they passed through the center of the cabins, near the campfire, Taylor stopped.

  “What?” Hogan asked.

  “It’s so quiet.”

  “It’s always quiet here at night. They’re scared. They heard the shots too.”

  Taylor went to the door of one of the cabins. Hogan tried to remember who lived in that one. One of the Hispanic couples, but Hogan wasn’t sure which.

  “They’re asleep—”

  Taylor knocked on the door. Hard. “Hola? Hola?”

  He waited a moment, head cocked at the door. Listening. Taylor pulled the door open and went inside. Just as quickly, he came out. “Check the ones on your side.”

  Hogan did. The one where Avery had stayed was empty as he expected. But so was the other one.

  “They’re both empty,” Hogan said.

  Taylor turned away from the second one on his side.

  “They’re all empty,” he said, teeth clenched. “They’re all running away.”

  90

  Anna felt like Little Red Riding Hood.

  The darkness restricted her vision to about fifteen feet ahead. Would the trail soon reach a dead end or come to a creek or river she wouldn’t be able to cross? She’d be screwed. Avery had told her to head north, but it seemed impossible to find a direction without a phone.

  She wore shorts and the borrowed hoodie, and even though she kept moving steadily, the woods were cold. Sweat ran down her body, and weeds and vines whipped against her legs, scratching them. Her sneakers rubbed at her feet, because she wore no socks. She’d dressed perfectly for making a daring escape through the woods.

  Unseen things moved in the trees. Once something large thrashed through the brush twenty feet off the trail, and Anna became convinced a bear was tracking her, waiting for the opportune time to spring out and sink its claws into her neck. Bears were spotted occasionally around the state. Why wouldn’t one be out here in the middle of nothingness?

  She kept putting one foot in front of the other because Avery had told her to. That was it. That was the only reason. Avery. Avery had told her to.

  For so long Anna had hated being the youngest child, the one everyone could tell what to do. Even benevolent Alisha liked to give Anna unsolicited advice on life. When Alisha had had her kids, Anna felt relief—maybe someone else would fall below her in the pecking order. But everybody fawned over the grandkids and acted like they could do nothing wrong, so the shit that flowed downhill stopped with Anna.

  But in the woods, with the night closing around her like a giant, dark fist, Anna felt grateful for Avery. Her sister—sister?—had grabbed her hand and led her away from Collins and Hogan. Avery had known the way to the trail. Anna wished only that Avery had come with her instead of leaving her on her own.

  But Avery had gone back—to help the workers. To see if Hank was okay.