“Was…was that you, Quarry? Back at that fucking convenience store?”

“That’s right.”

“And, what? You…you thought we’d come after you? This has nothing to do with you.”

“Does now. And anyway, I got my question answered.”

He risked a frown back at me. “What question?”

“What the Odd Couple needs with Tampax in the middle of the night…Keep moving.”

Finally, at the snowy edge of the wooded shore, Harry came to a stop, and half turned, Louis turning too, Harry asking another question with his face: What now?

“Go on, Harry.”

Harry frowned. “Go on? What the fuck, ‘go on?’z”

“Keep walking.”

“ Where? ”

I gestured with the shotgun, toward the lake.

Harry followed the gesture, eyes tight, and it took a few seconds for him to absorb the meaning. Somehow, though, he couldn’t turn his confusion and apprehension into words.

So I said, “When you sense the ice getting thin, give Louis a toss…let the lake have him. Then head back here, and we’ll talk.”

Harry looked at the lake, then at me; the lake, me.

His voice seemed even higher pitched than before, almost childish, his wide eyes buggy behind the lenses. “What…what if the ice gives, under me? I mean…it’s gonna get thin, farther out I get…”

“We’ll keep the stress to a minimum.”

“ How? ”

“I’ll stay put.”

All the air went out of Harry, and if Louis had been one pound heavier, both men would have gone down in a pile in the snow, right there. But he stayed on his feet, even though the despair must have been heavier than Louis.

“Quarry…Quarry…will you just fuckin’ kill me. Kill me here and be done.”

I shrugged. “Thought you might like a sporting chance, Harry. Before you know it, you’ll be out of range…maybe you can make it over to those trees, where I can’t catch up with you.”

He summoned a sneer from somewhere. “If the ice don’t break first.”