The girl made desperate, frightened noises behind her gag. Root ignored her. The child was zip-tied hand and foot, gagged, and had a pillowcase over her head because Root was tired of seeing her big scared eyes. She looked like one of those sad puppy paintings with those giant eyes. She was crammed into a space between the couch and the wall, out of the way. "Stop being such a baby," she called in her general direction.

Root paced to the window, peeked out, paced to the other side of the room and looked out there. The cabin sat on a small rise, with a clearing down to the road. She'd see anyone who approached half a mile off.

It was almost sundown. She couldn't believe Harold wasn't there yet.

She glanced at the girl. Nothing special about her, but Harold loved the people who loved her. He would come for her. She was sure of it.

And then, finally, there was motion on the road. A white delivery van with some kind of logo on the side came over the hill and drove toward the cabin at about ten miles over the speed limit.

Root watched the vehicle, her eyes narrow with suspicion. It turned into the half-moon drive in front of the cabin and stopped with a lurch. Minotti Beverage. We deliver. The driver got out and walked around to the back of the truck. He was average size, wore blue work pants and a waist-length navy blue jacket with a logo that matched the one on the van, heavy black work shoes, a blue ballcap with the same logo. Work gloves, those white cotton ones with the blue rubber for grip on the palms and fingers. Sunglasses. He opened the back door and pulled out a medium-sized box that seemed very heavy. He lay his scanner/signature tablet – she knew, from a previous job long ago, that the chunky device was called a DIAD, Delivery Information Acquisition Device – on top of the box and lumbered toward the porch. He set the box down next to the front door, picked up the DIAD, and rang the bell. "Minotti's!" he called.

"Just leave it, please," Root called back.

"It's your wine, Ms. Storer. You know I gotta get a signature."

"Oh. Just a minute." Root tucked her handgun into the back of her belt and opened the door just a crack. "Oh, hello."

"Hey." He was swarthy, and it looked like he had a scar on his cheek that vanished behind his sunglasses. Under the jacket he looked well-built. He looked her up and down. "You the new housekeeper?"

"Um … yes."

"She can't keep help, can she?"

She couldn't, Root knew, because she'd researched the Storers before she'd chosen their cabin as the site for her meeting with Harry. Mrs. Storer was in rehab at the moment, some five-star place in California, and Mr. Storer was with his mistress at her apartment in town. "I … don't know anything about that."

"Yeah, okay. Sign here."

He held the DIAD out to her.

"It looks heavy. Can you bring it in the house, please?"

"Sorry, no can do. Insurance. The last girl took it in a couple bottles at a time."

"You deliver often?"

"Twice a month."

"Oh." That tracked, too, with the rehab. Rich women and their wine. "Kinda late for a delivery."

"Last one of the day."

Mostly from reflex, and to show she had nothing to hide. Root flirted with him. "Sure you don't have time to carry that big box in for me, then?"

His lip curled into a half-smile. "Nope."

"Fine." Miffed, she reached for the tablet. The whole device was grubby; Root wished she had gloves, too. The metal bar on the side of the fat device was cold to the touch. "Don't you need to card me?" she teased.

"I don't think so, no."

The metal pen dangled off the tablet, attached by a braided wire cord. Now fully insulted, Root grabbed it to sign the tablet.

Electricity sparked, and the world went dark.

Elizabeth Everett hunkered down, trying to make herself even smaller. Robin had been scary and mean, but at least she'd tied her up and left her alone. Now she couldn't get away from whoever had just come in. She couldn't see or speak. She could only hear.

She heard the vehicle when it drove up, like a truck or a big van. The knock on the door. Two voices, Robin and a man. A crack like lightning. A thump. The air smelled hot, somehow. It reminded her of sparklers. Elizabeth didn't know if the Robin had hurt the man who'd knocked on the door or the other way around. She tried to be still and quiet, but she couldn't stop crying behind her gag.

A funny shuffling noise, like a big dog rolling over. A soft sliding noise that Elizabeth had just learned: the sound of zip ties. And then more footsteps on the porch. Another person. Lighter.

The man said, "This her?"

"Yep." A woman, but not Robin. A different woman.

"Kid's over there, covered up. You can come in."

"Thanks. Hang on, I'll get her keys."

Elizabeth thought that was probably a good thing that a new woman was there, but she wasn't sure. It was better than being tied up alone with a man. Maybe. Until Robin, she'd always thought women were mostly nice.

More small noises. A jingle of a keychain. Then the heavy noise, a body being moved again.

"Need some help?" the woman asked.

"No," the man grunted. "I got her. Back seat?"

"Yes, please."

The footsteps, heavier now, went away again.

The softer footsteps came toward her. Elizabeth tried to be quiet again and failed.

"Elizabeth," a woman said quietly. "Sweetie. It's okay, you're safe now. You're safe. Nobody's going to hurt you. Okay?" A hand touched her shoulder, gripped, not too tight. "I know you're scared, but I promise, you're safe now."

A second touch, a hand under the pillowcase, on her face, and then the gag went away. Elizabeth sobbed out loud. "Who are you?" she asked. "Can you untie me?"

The hands were still gentle and soft on her. "Not just yet."

Elizabeth shuddered.

"Shhh, shhh. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. Here's what's going to happen now. Well, wait, here."

One hand moved away. Something clicked, metallic. There was a tug on the strap that held her feet, and then it was loose and then it was gone. "I'm going to help you up, okay?"

The girl sniffed. "'kay."

The arms guided and lifted her. Elizabeth could tell that the woman wasn't much bigger than she was. And also her skin felt weird. After a second the girl realized that her rescuer was wearing gloves.

A car door closed. The man's footsteps came onto the porch again, stopped at the doorway. "You sure about this?"

"I'm sure," the woman said. "Thanks for your help."

"Keys are in the car. And your bag."

"Don't forget to pay off the driver."

"Will do. But I'm keeping the wine. See you around."

The footsteps went away. Then the truck started, and it went away, too.

The woman guided her a few steps, then turned her shoulders. "We're going to sit down on the couch, okay?"

Elizabeth sniffed again. "Okay." The woman guided her back until she felt cushions behind her legs. They sat down together. "Please, can you untie me now?" She shook her head. "Can you take this off?"

"In a minute. I need you to listen to me first, okay?"

The girl trembled. She couldn't seem to stop.

"It's okay," the woman said again. "I've got you. You're safe. I promise you, I promise, no one is going to hurt you. You are going to be back with your parents in time for supper. Really."

"I just want to go home."

"You're going home. I promise. In just a few minutes." The woman took a deep breath. "The thing is, I need to get out of here without you seeing me. So here's what we're going to do. I'm going to walk you to the door. Then I'm going to untie you before I leave, and you can take that pillowcase off. Okay?"

"'kay."

"Then you're going to lock the door behind me, so no one can get in here and hurt you, okay?"

"But …"

"I'm going to leave you a cell phone. It will be on a timer. In ten minutes it will unlock and you can call for help. Call your dad or call the police, whichever you want. I wrote down the address where you are. It won't take them very long to get here."

"That's it?" Elizabeth wondered.

"That's it. Ten minutes, and then you can call and they will come and get you."

"That woman. Robin."

"You will never see her again. She won't come back."

"Is she going to jail?"

The woman paused. "No. Not this time."

Elizabeth paused, too. "Are you going to kill her?"

There was no answer.

"Who are you?"

"I can't tell you that, Elizabeth."

"But …"

"She will be dealt with. And you will never see her again."

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Why did she want me?"

"She was just using you as bait, sweetie. It wasn't about you. You didn't do anything wrong. And she's not coming back." The woman patted her shoulder, and then Elizabeth felt her move away. "You ready?"

"Yes."

The woman helped her up, guided her slowly to where she'd heard the voices before. The metallic sound again. Then the gloved hands on hers, and the tie snapped. Elizabeth brought her hands in front of her and rubbed her wrists. She was afraid to reach for the pillowcase.

"It's okay," the woman said quietly. "I'm going to go. Lock the door. You'll be safe here. You'll be safe."

The door closed softly. Footsteps on the porch. Elizabeth pulled the pillowcase off. It got tangled in her hair, pulled some. She threw it on the floor like it was a snake. The cabin was horribly bright, and she blinked, rubbed at her eyes.

When she looked up, she was alone.

A car started up behind the cabin. Robin's car, Elizabeth knew. That's where she'd heard the woman park. It came around the side, into the driveway, and then turned down the road.

Elizabeth hurried to lock the door.

The phone was on the table just beside the door. There was an address written on a slip of paper there, too. The timer on the face of the phone said 9:48, and ran backward.

The child slumped to the floor and sobbed.

Root woke up falling. By the time she opened her eyes, the back of her head landed on something hard. She jerked her hands, but they were bound together at the wrist behind her back, tightly. She was being dragged by her feet. She tried to kick out, but her ankles were also bound. Her head bumped over concrete and small stones. The skin scraped off her hands. "Owwww."

The motion stopped, and her feet were dropped. Root took a quick inventory. She was looking up at blue-gray sky, streaked with sunset gold, so she was outdoors and hadn't been unconscious for long. She tested the binding on her wrists. Narrow. Zip ties. No wiggle room.

She looked toward her feet. She more than half-expected John to be there, or maybe the fake delivery man, but instead there was a woman.

Root turned her head to each side. A plain concrete building about thirty feet to her right. The car she'd stolen to her left. Nothing but trees to the sides and no one else in sight.

She rolled onto her stomach and then squirmed awkwardly until she was sitting up, on her knees. She twisted around until she was facing the woman again. "Hello."

The woman was roughly Root's age, maybe a little younger, with straight light brown hair and bright blue eyes. She wore jeans and scuffed loafers, a white shirt under a black wool jacket, and gloves. She held Root's gun in her hand, down at her side. The safety was on.

Root looked around again. There were no other cars in the lot. But as she'd hoped, there was a surveillance camera on the corner of the building, aimed at them. The red light blinked like an eye.

"Where'd your friend with the wine go? He was kind of cute. In a bad boy kind of way. "

The woman stared at her. She reminded Root a bit of Shaw – expressionless, calm. Unnerving, if you were the kind who got unnerved, which Root was not. "I know you. You're the little coffee girl." That was unexpected, but interesting. It meant Harry had come for the child after all. "Oh, I'm sorry," she went on cheerfully, "I forgot your little café burned down. Such a sad thing. But I'm sure you found something else to do, didn't you? I mean, other than being Harry's errand girl?"

The faintest flicker of a smile crossed the woman's face and then vanished.

"Did anyone ever tell you how the fire started?" Root continued earnestly. "Did you know it was your own employee, your big dumb gorilla? I saw him do it. So hard to get good help these days, isn't it? You did know, right?"

"You talk a lot."

"I do," Root admitted. "I always get so nervous around new people." She shrugged. "So when will the boys be here? It's not like the great ape to be late, and it's really not like Harry."

"Just you and me, Samantha."

"My name is Root!" She paused, gathered herself, smiled. "And no way Lurch lets you come after me alone. No way Harry lets you be in this much danger. So where are they?"

The coffee girl went silent again.

"Well, maybe they're caught in traffic. What shall we chat about while we wait? You want me to tell you about the Machine? I'm sure Harry didn't, he's so selfish, but I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Harry."

"Oh, he pretends to hate that name, but I think he secretly likes it. You know, just a little thing between the two of us." She flexed her wrists, but the zip tie was very tight. "Do you know he ripped her voice out? The Machine's? But it's okay now. She got it back."

"I know."

Root hesitated. "She doesn't talk to you."

Silence again.

"She doesn't," Root snarled. "There's no way the Machine would talk to you. You're nothing but a coffee girl. I mean, maybe Harry's little meat toy, but so what. No way the Machine talks to you. No way."

"You're not as smart as I thought you'd be."

"If she talked to you, it was just to get you here. To get me alone, so I can meet Harry again."

"Why would she want you to meet Harold again?"

"She wants me to make him understand. That what he did was wrong, but she forgives him. She wants him to talk to her. She wants …" Root stopped. "It doesn't matter. You couldn't possibly understand. You're just an insect. An ant."

"And you are crazy as a shithouse rat." The woman glanced at the camera again. "She led me to you, Root, because she knew I wouldn't hesitate to kill you."

Root glanced at the camera, too. Help would be there soon. The Machine would take care of her.

"Why would you want to kill me?" she asked. "You don't even know me."

"You don't know me. But you came at me anyhow. You hurt people I cared about. My friends. My brother. My husband. And don't call him Harry."

"Oh, bullshit." Root felt her cheeks get hot. She didn't like being surprised, and the idea of Harry with this little nobody …. "Harry doesn't have a wife."

"Did you think he was going to fall in love with you, Root? You're a monster."

"At least I can understand him. And the Machine. In a way you never can." Root rolled her shoulders. They hurt from hitting the concrete. She wished she could brush the gravel out of her hair. "You aren't going to kill me. If you were, you'd have done it back at the cabin."

"Not in front of the child."

"Then you should have killed me before I woke up."

"Maybe," her captor allowed. "Maybe I wanted you know."

The gun stayed at her side, her fingers curled comfortably around it.

"You're curious about me," Root speculated. "That means you think there might be something between me and Harry. You're jealous."

The other woman made a small humming noise.

"If you kill me, he'll never forgive you."

"He'll never know."

"The Machine will tell him." She gestured with her head toward the camera. "It sees everything."

The woman nodded thoughtfully. "So how about it, sweetie?" she called. "You gonna tell Daddy on me?"

The red light stopped blinking and turned solid. Then it went off. And stayed off.

Root felt ice race through her veins. Suddenly, impossibly, her death seemed very likely. "You won't kill me," she said again, trying to make her voice certain. "You don't have it in you. You're not a killer. You'll think about it, you'll want to do it, but you won't be able to pull the trigger. Because you know if you do, you'll lay awake every night, you'll lay in bed next to Harry and you'll try to keep this secret from him and it will eat at you, you will always know that you killed me in cold blood and you won't - "

"Do you remember Dominic Delfino?"

"Who?"

"He was my friend. He was broken, but he was a good soul. He was finding his way. And you poured him full of poison and put a gun in his hand and aimed him at Chaos."

"Oh. That guy." Root barely suppressed a giggle. He was nobody, but it had been a clever ploy. "What about him?"

"I killed Dominic. To save other lives. He trusted me. And I killed him. Because of you. I wasn't a killer. But I killed him. And I lay awake and I think about him. I always will." She nodded to herself. "His blood is all over my hands. So a little more blood, your blood, isn't going to make any difference at all. In fact, I think it might help me sleep better."

"You know you'll never be able to …"

"Shhh. You think if you stall me long enough John will show up and stop me," she said calmly. "He is on his way, I'm sure, but he won't get here in time."

Root swallowed. "You won't do it," she whispered, as much to herself as to the woman with the gun. "You won't."

"You kidnapped a child to get at Harold. And that makes it simple for me. Because if you'd take Grace's child, you'd damn sure take Harold's child. And I won't live with that threat. Not for a single minute."

"Harold's … child?" Root looked the woman up and down. She didn't look pregnant, or like she'd had a baby recently. It was probably just wishful thinking on the coffee girl's part. But Root hadn't known Harold was married, either.

Apparently a lot had happened while she was away.

If she survived this, Root made a mental note, she needed to be sure to kill Control. As slowly as possible.

The woman thumbed the gun's safety off.

"If you kill me, you'll never find Nathan."

The blue eyes flicked in surprise. "Nathan."

"He's alive. The government had him, and then he got away, and now I have him. But if you kill me …"

The woman turned and looked at the camera again. "Can you take me to him?"

The red light came on, flickered on and off indecisively.

"Can you get me close?"

The light blinked once.

"Good enough." The blue eyes turned back to Root.

But there was a car on the road now, distant but closing fast. It was John. It had to be John. He was a damn cave man, nothing but muscle and a gun, and he hated Root, but he was also a Boy Scout. He would stop this woman. He wouldn't let her kill Root, not like this, not in cold blood …

From the corner of her eye, she saw the woman with the gun move around behind her.

Root smiled to herself. John would save her. At least he was good for something.

"You remind me of my mother," the coffee girl said.

Then the gun went off.