Despite the recent snows, the road was well cleared, salted, and sanded. They took Maggie’s car, a ten-year-old Subaru wagon with all-wheel drive—the official car of Maine, as many people called it—and headed out of Cape Willington, north to Route 1. The night had cleared and the stars shone brightly, and with the heat blasting out of the wagon’s interior vents, they were warm enough.
They’d made a quick stop at the dry cleaner’s to change. Candy pulled on some of the clothes she’d worn to disguise herself the previous day. They didn’t fit her perfectly, but they were better than a fancy dress for what they were planning on doing. Reluctantly, she left the dress on a hanger on the unclaimed rack, right where it belonged. Maggie had managed to scrounge up a pair of jeans and sweater—her own, as it turned out. They dressed quickly, pulled their boots, wool coats, and hats back on, and off they went.
They talked little on the way. Maggie turned the radio to a news channel, and they listened for any information about Liam Yates, Duncan Leggmeyer, or Victor Templeton, but instead they got an evening call-in show with periodic weather updates and a little national news.
Traffic was light at this time of the night, and they made good time. Just before nine thirty they reached Route 1. A half mile east of its intersection with Route 192, they saw the neon sign for the Hidden Valley Motel and Cabins, with the NO VACANCY light turned on.
Maggie flicked on her turn signal, checked her mirrors, and drove into the motel’s parking lot. The car crept along slowly as she headed along the long row of rooms, toward the one- and two-bedroom cabins at the rear of the property, which backed up against a stream and dense, frozen woods.
“Cabin number nine’s over that way,” Candy said, indicating a small sign that pointed to the left. Maggie turned the car in that direction, but Candy put a hand on her shoulder. “Back up and park over there,” she said softly, “just in case. I’ll walk over and check it out.”
Maggie backed the car between a Ford F150 pickup truck and a van, where she’d be fairly well hidden, and switched off the engine. For a few moments they sat inside, keeping warm, gazing out the windshield in the direction of the cabin.
“So what do we do now?” Maggie finally asked, her voice betraying her nervousness.
Candy let out a breath and turned toward her. “I’m going to have a look in one of those windows. You stay here.”
“But what if—”
“Just stay here. I’ll be right back.” And before she could change her mind, Candy opened the door and stepped out of the car.
The air was crisp, but the wind had died down, so it wasn’t biting. In fact, in some ways, she found it invigorating, and perhaps even mildly pleasant. Again, she thought, it would have been a wonderful night for a stroll with Ben, and wondered what he’d found out at the police station. She decided to call him as soon as she could.
Cabin number nine sat in the midst of a copse of trees, tucked at the end of a little spur of a road that hooked off the main parking lot. Candy hurried along as quietly as she could, though her boots crunched on the frozen surface. The night was surprisingly quiet, everything silenced by the cold blanket of snow. In the stillness, the sound of her boots on the icepack sounded like firearms going off, like an army was approaching the cabin.
But as she got closer, she doubted anyone would hear her, since there was no one around to notice. The cabin’s windows were dark. The lights were out. There were no cars parked out front. The place looked deserted.
She stopped twenty feet away, hands tucked into her coat pockets as she debated what to do next. Should she knock? Peek into the windows? Turn around and go home?
She was still trying to decide when she heard a car approaching through the parking lot behind her. Turning, she saw headlights stabbing through the darkness. The vehicle was headed in her direction.
At first she thought it might be Maggie’s car, until she realized it wasn’t a wagon. Instead, it was a sleek late-model crossover vehicle with a dark exterior.
The vehicle came steadily on, passing by Maggie’s car without slowing. As it approached, Candy stepped back among the trees that lined the short driveway to the cabin. The vehicle angled left and came directly toward her. Candy surreptitiously slipped behind a tree trunk as it drove past her. The rear LED brake lights came on, illuminating the night with an eerie red glow, as the vehicle stopped in front of cabin number nine.
The engine continued to run, but the taillights flicked out, and a few moments later the headlights went out too, leaving the area in semidarkness.
The driver’s-side door opened, and Felicia Gaspar stepped out.