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He’s not sure whether he’s actually expecting her to hear him now … or just shouting to the universe that he hasn’t forgotten her.

He turns a few more times. The surrounding forest stays still and silent. No one is coming to his summons. Not Ellie. Not Raymond. Not even Noemi, that poor kid.

“Raymond!” he roars in frustration. “You want me? Come and take your shot, because you are not going to get another one!”

He lifts his hands, as if Raymond is out there, watching, and can see him, defenseless and alone.

Yeah, one thing about being Henry’s size is that he’s never defenseless. Maybe he should swing a tree limb and pretend to accidentally hit his head and knock himself unconscious, and then Raymond will see his chance.

Henry snorts under his breath.

Well, if Raymond isn’t coming, it’s time to set a trap.

Make the other man believe he has a shot at Henry. That Henry is distracted.

What about trying to start up one of the cars? The most likely bet would be Raymond’s own vehicle. Henry’s sure it’s expensive, with all the latest safety features that explain how the guy walked away without a scratch.

Only Raymond is scratched now, isn’t he? He hurt his leg. Henry needs to remember that. A weak spot.

For now, finding the cars is his best bet. Make it look as if he’s trying to get Raymond’s vehicle started and that might make him seem distracted enough for Raymond to sneak up and kill him.

So where are the cars?

To his left, he thinks, though really, it’s a wild guess. But even if it’s in the other direction, then he’ll still hit it, walking all the way around this snow globe. And if he continues on for more than ten or fifteen minutes without seeing the road, then he needs to head on a diagonal.

Is this actually a valid plan? Probably not, but it’s a plan, and it’s better than standing and shouting in a field.

He strikes out, and he walks no more than a few hundred feet before reaching the road. There are the cars, all five of them. At the back is Raymond’s and, yep, it’s a fancy-ass sedan. If he had the choice, he’d actually go for what the kids had driven—the little BMW SUV. That seems to have sustained the least damage. But it’s also sandwiched between two cars.

So the Jag it is. Not that he can actually get the damn thing started, but Raymond won’t know that. He’ll look at Henry and see a misspent youth spent boosting cars.

Henry goes to open the door and …

It’s locked.

When Caleb and Noemi did this, Henry gave them the benefit of the doubt, telling Ellie that they probably just automatically locked it. But with Raymond, he’s sure that was intentional. God forbid someone steal his briefcase full of business shit.

Henry strides to the roadside and grabs the first rock he sees. Then he hefts it, looks at Raymond’s car and smiles, and pauses to savor something else he never allows himself to feel. Malicious glee.

Even without his parents’ lessons, Henry wouldn’t have grown into a bully. It’s just not in his nature. When that little boy died and John was fired, Henry hadn’t felt even a flicker of satisfaction. A child was dead, and seeing justice done didn’t bring him back.

But now, he savors the moment. He thinks of Raymond, a guy who’d only seemed an everyday sort of asshole, but had still jumped—jumped—at the chance to sacrifice others to save his own skin. Henry wants to look at Raymond and see evil, but for some people self-preservation burns away every shred of altruism. Like John, who wouldn’t even try to save a boy’s life for fear of screwing up and getting fired. He’d been willing to sacrifice a child for his job.

Things like that should be called evil, and they’re not. What Raymond is doing now should be called evil, and it’s not. Even on a smaller scale, what Henry’s ex-girlfriend had done, lodging a false complaint that could have put him in jail, well that was just life, wasn’t it? So-called ordinary people out for themselves, fine with hurting others if it helps them, even if it’s just helping soothe wounded pride.

Henry lets the rock fly and it smashes the driver’s-side window with such force that he jumps. Then he takes a moment to exhale before he steps—

Something grabs at his back foot, and he spins, fists clenched and raised. He might never have fought, but his body—or maybe his brain—knows the moves, and he’s ready in a heartbeat, gaze zeroing in on whoever is behind him …

No one’s there.

He looks down at his foot, which is fine and unencumbered.

After checking over his shoulder, he backs toward Raymond’s car.

Remember the point of this exercise.

Not to actually start the car, but to lure Raymond out of the forest.