Stang had been aware of that restlessness, and it had caused his uneasiness to heighten. Zander was usually in full control, and volatility was rare. “What if Venable calls again?”

“He won’t. I won’t need you for the rest of the evening. Set the alarm and go to bed, Stang.”

“You told Venable you’d think about going after Doane.”

“My, you’re persistent.” He paused. “And I will. There are reasons why it’s not a bad idea.”

“Eve Duncan?”

“No, the general. His death might tarnish my reputation. I mustn’t have potential clients thinking that their lives could be in danger because of the aftereffects of the termination. If I’d followed my gut instincts in the beginning, none of this would have happened. I might have to show that I actively sought to correct the problem. Duncan has nothing to do with it.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Unless I have to use her to get to Doane.”

“You are going to do it.”

“Stop pushing me, Stang. I’m going to think about it.” He smiled coldly. “And whatever I decide, it probably won’t make an iota of difference to whether Duncan lives or dies.”

“If you throw a different number into an equation, the answer is bound to change,” Stang said. “And sometimes the answer is better than you hope. If you decide to do it, will you team with Venable?”

“No, why would I do that? He has his own agenda, and he’d get in my way.”

“Just wondering.” He turned toward the door. “Good night, sir. There’s a jacket on the patio chair if you need it. It’s cold outside.”

Rio Grande Forest

Colorado

LORD, IT WAS COLD, Eve thought.

The temperature had plummeted in the last hour, and the cotton tunic she was wearing was no protection against the cutting wind. Her teeth were chattering, and her muscles were knotting with the effort to withstand the chill.

She didn’t have much farther to go until she got to the place where she’d discarded her duffel. She would have been there sooner, but she’d lost the trail twice in the darkness and become disoriented. But now she was close, she knew it. The moon was up, and she’d recognized a few distinctive boulders.

It should be just around this turn of the trail.

And so might Doane.

She stopped and stared at the trail ahead.

Had he seen her discard the duffel? There was no way of knowing.

If he had, he could be up ahead waiting for her. If he hadn’t, then she might be safe.

She moved off the trail into the shrubs.

Move quietly.

Listen.

Is he there?

No sound.

The wind was sharper, taking her breath.

Are you tucked under a warm blanket on your couch down there in the house, you bastard?

Stay there. Sleep. While I try to even things out.

She stopped again and listened.

Still nothing but the wind through the trees.

The duffel should be right before her …

No duffel! Dammit, no duffel.

Don’t panic. Look for it.

She hadn’t realized that the trail had skirted this close to the cliff edge at this point. What if the duffel had rolled down and gone off the cliff?

And what if it hadn’t?

Look for it.

She might get lucky.

She slid farther down the slope toward the cliff edge.

There it was! She grabbed the black duffel and turned back to go up the slope.

And then she stopped on the cliff edge.

From this vantage point, she could see the house and the mine. The lamplight was pouring from the windows. That was a good sign that he wasn’t out here looking for her.

But she wouldn’t take that small sign to the bank. He could still be out here.

Get away. She couldn’t even stop to pull warmer clothes from the duffel until she was miles down the road. She started to climb the slope.

“You can’t get away. I won’t let you. Kill you. Throw you into the fire.”

She went rigid at the gravelly whisper. Doane?

Oh God, she’d been wrong. He was here, waiting.

She whirled toward the road and started running.

“Hate you. Throw you into the fire. He’ll find you.”

Where was the voice coming from? The other side of the trail? Wherever he was, he’d had time to get his gun from the house.

No bullet.

No sound of footsteps behind her.

Where the hell are you, Doane?

“Burn you like they did me. Never get away.”

Like they did me …

Her pace slowed.

She hadn’t thought she could get colder, but she was suddenly icy.

Not Doane.

She looked over her shoulder at the house where the lights cast a cozy glow out into the darkness.

Then she looked down at the abyss yawning beyond the cliff.

Burn you like they did me.

Not Doane. Kevin.

It was Kevin whose remains had been tossed into that furnace after he was shot.

She smothered the panic.

It could be imagination, a hallucination brought on by nerves and exposure.

Malignance and power coming from that darkness where she’d thrown Kevin’s skull.

Or it could be that the evil presence she’d sensed while she did Kevin’s reconstruction was real and waiting to forge across the barriers.

And attack.

But she hadn’t heard his voice since she’d realized that it was either her own imagination … or Kevin. If the attack had come, she had been able to repel it.

“You’re weak, Kevin,” she whispered fiercely. “You can’t touch me. You think you can use your father to break through, but you have boundaries. It’s not going to happen.” She started running up the path. “Go back to hell, where you belong.”

*   *   *

HE WAS COMING!

Eve climbed higher in the tree, making sure that she made no sound.

Doane made no effort to be quiet. Why would he? He had a rifle, and she was the prey.

She had thought he had settled for the night in the house, but she’d been rudely disappointed. In the middle of the night, he’d come after her, and she’d had to go on the run.

And it was the second time tonight that Doane had gotten so close. He hadn’t been boasting when he said he was a great tracker. She had resorted to going through the streambeds to erase the tracks and lose him. But she must have left some sign, or he wouldn’t be here now. It wouldn’t surprise her. It wasn’t as if she was woods-savvy like Joe. She just had to do the best she could.

“I can feel you, Eve,” Doane called out. “I can feel your fear and the panic. It’s terrible being hunted, isn’t it? No matter where you go, I’ll be right behind you.”

She wasn’t in a panic, but she was experiencing that primal fear of being hunted. And she hated this feeling of helplessness.

Damn, she wished she had some kind of weapon. She’d found a branch earlier that she’d tried to fashion into a club, but that would not hold up when confronting a rifle.

Not unless she could stage a surprise attack, and he had given her no opportunity to think of a way to do that.

“Are you having a rough night? The temperature is near freezing, and I was thinking of you when I was curled up in the house. That’s why I decided to leave comfort behind and go after you. I expected to be able to bring you in with no problem. You must be tougher than I thought to survive so well.”

It had been rough. Even wrapped in the blanket and covered with leaves, it had been cold. The wind hadn’t stopped, and she had only dozed for minutes at a time. It was probably a good thing because she had heard Doane when he’d tried to surprise her.

“Were you afraid that I’d be tracking you tonight? You’ll never know when I’m after you or when I go back for a little well-earned rest. So never sleep too hard, Eve.”

He was right below the tree.

Don’t move. Don’t breathe.

“If you sleep, I’ll catch you, Eve. You must be very tired right now.” He lifted his head. “Do you hear me? I must admit that I’m enjoying our little hunt. I like the idea of running you to ground. I noticed that you were traveling the stream. Your feet must be wet. By morning, they could be frostbitten. It will be hard for you to run then, Eve.”