And he was gone.

I studied the lake-soon you could barely see the hole Harry had made-with the black starry sky my only companion. Even the loon had nothing to say, the frozen expanse and the surrounding blackness of trees as quiet as, well, death. Suddenly this wintry world seemed austerely beautiful to me, a study in white and gray and gray-blue and black, but enjoying myself like that seemed vaguely creepy, so I headed back to the cabin, shotgun slung over my arm.

Back inside, I got the girl’s clothes out of the closet-her cell phone was in a pocket-and went in and gave them to her, keeping the phone. A black hip-hop t-shirt and designer jeans and Reeboks.

“Did you kill those men?” she said, breathlessly, her eyes dark and glittering. She had her clothes in her lap.

“That’s not important. Get dressed.”

“You’re wonderful. You’re goddamn fucking wonderful.”

“I know,” I said. “Everybody says so. Get dressed.”

She got dressed.

I watched her.

She was a beautiful piece of ass, no question, and even with those rings in them, the titties were cute as puppy dogs. The way she was looking at me made it clear she was grateful.

I said, “We need to call your father.”

“What’s your hurry? After a reward? There’s all kinds of rewards…”

I held her cell phone out to her. “We should call him.”

She shrugged and came at me and I found myself backed against the wall, as if she were holding a gun on me. Then her arms were around me and the pretty little mug was looking up at me devilishly.

She had to get up on tiptoes to do it, but she kissed me long and slow and her tongue knew things it shouldn’t have at her age.

Then she drew away from me, her arms still around me. “What do you say, hero?”

“Kind of a bad time, isn’t it?”