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Evan’s neighbors didn’t have a clear view of his front yard, but they might remember seeing headlights in his driveway.

We wanted to leave no trace.

So when I got the text, I shifted the van into drive and made certain to keep the vehicle perfectly situated between the yellow and white lines. I set the cruise control to the speed limit. Exactly twenty-five miles an hour.

When I drove past Evan’s house, toward that patch of woods, I glanced onto his patio.

In the darkness, I made out a vague shadow. Could’ve been Gwen. Also could’ve been a garbage can.

I continued a quarter mile down the road. There, nestled off to the side of the road, obscured by trees, sat a small pull-off. Just big enough to back up to the foliage.

After giving Honey a scratch in the passenger seat—because Gwen insisted it would be odd if we’d gone on a hiking trip and left Honey at home, which I hated to agree with—I tossed a white T-shirt in the window. I fastened my jacket tight around my frame, pulled the ski mask over my face, and stepped into the damp grass. At the rear door, I slid out the makeshift cot.

With it tucked under my arm, I broke into a jog. I couldn’t tell you how long it took to get to Evan’s door. Only that the spring breeze against my cheeks reminded me of running track in high school. Strenuous and relaxing at once.

Gwen said nothing as I approached.

I laid out the cot without a word. We rolled him onto it.

Gwen gathered up the darts from the ground. She shut down and stowed his phone, which he must’ve dropped, into her pocket.

She grabbed one end of the cot, I grabbed the other, and we started into the woods.

I half expected Gwen to lose her balance. For her arms to quiver or give out.

They didn’t. After the holidays, she’d committed to lifting. If we weren’t hanging out, and if she wasn’t working, she was down at the gym with Axel. I hadn’t seen much of a physical change in her physique, but I hadn’t expected her strength to develop so quickly.

My arms didn’t quiver either, though, and I didn’t work out half as much as she did.

Maybe it was the adrenaline. But I didn’t feel the adrenaline. Not in the way I had when I’d killed Jason. That violent rage, that red-doused mirage. Fury and grief and heartache. When I’d killed Jason, those feelings had consumed every part of my mind and body.

This… this was almost soothing. Not enjoyable, but calm. Controlled.

Branches crackled underfoot, and an occasional, inaudible moan that almost resembled a word or two escaped Evan. We paid it no mind. He was in a K-hole, and he would stay there for at least long enough to load him into the van.

When we arrived at the rear door, Gwen rested the metal bars of the cot on the bumper. She opened the door, and we slid him inside.

As the lights came on and I climbed in behind him, I got my first good look at his skin. His pale, almost gray skin. Evan’s chest didn’t move. No, it barely moved.

I stretched out my hand to check for a pulse. It took some feeling around, but I found it. No matter how thready and slow.

“How many did you hit him with?” I whispered.

“Probably too much,” she said, stretching out her shoulders at the rear door. “Didn’t want to risk having to kill him then and there, you know? And if he dies before we get there, he dies. I want my answers and everything, but at the end of the day, that’s what we’re here for.”

Fair enough. Only problem there was that if he died now, he would stink by the time we were back to Montana. Not only would we have to sit in the smell of death for the remainder of our drive, but getting the stench out of this van would require an entire second remodel.

“Alright,” I said, grabbing my medicine bag from the floor between the front seats. “I’ll get him tied down and watch his vitals. You know what to do.”

She gave a short nod and headed to the driver’s seat.

Honey peeked at me from the passenger seat, panting and cocking her head to the side.

Didn’t rush back here to greet him, though. We had strapped her in, of course, but she had enough length to at least settle between the passenger and driver’s seat. She chose not to.

Never before had I seen Honey deny attention from a stranger.

But you know what they say. Animals are excellent judges of character.