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great to me, too.”
    “I’m on it.” Laughing, Tony headed back toward the cabin.
    The breeze picked up and rustled through nearby trees. Kevin zipped his nylon jacket to his chin. His stomach rumbled. Coffee and bacon would hit the spot. Maybe when the wind died down, they’d land a few fish. They still had five more days of Man Week, but Kevin wanted his son to land a trout. This week was special to the Dougherty men. “Come on, Hunter. Let’s get some food.”
    “Can we try again later?”
    “Of course. We have nothing else to do all day.” Kevin packed up their stuff. Hunter led the way, heading up the narrow trail that serpentined back to the cabin. A shiver swept over Kevin as they walked into the shadow of the forest. A dozen yards into the woods, an itchy sensation between his shoulder blades pulled his eyes to the path behind him. Empty.
    Something splashed in the river. Probably the trout mocking them.
    A scraping sound, like metal over rock, lifted the hairs on his arms. He glanced backed again. Nothing. But he moved closer to his son.
    They continued up the trail. What was his deal? Sure, upstate Maine was a hell of a lot different than the North Jersey suburbs. That’s why they drove all the way up here, to get away from thehorns and the exhaust fumes and the cell phone that buzzed 24/7. To relax. To bond with his son. Usually, Kevin loved the solitude of the deep woods, but this morning it didn’t feel as empty as usual.
    Or as empty as it should.
    Something moved in the underbrush.
    Putting a hand on his son’s shoulder, he quickened his pace. What kind of predators lived up here? Bears? Wolves? A figure stepped out from behind a tree.
    “Tony?” Kevin squinted.
    The man moved forward, closer to Hunter, out of the tree’s shadow. Not Tony. This guy was tall and wiry. His khakis and jacket were new, at odds with the scraggly blond hair and beard. His piercing blue eyes had this weird look in them. Fanatical? Or feral.
    “Can I help you?” Kevin pulled Hunter behind him. His spine tingled with inexplicable discomfort. The guy was probably just a lost fisherman or camper. It happened, especially to guys not accustomed to the wilderness, like Kevin and his brothers.
    He glanced up the trail. The stranger was between them and the cabin.
    “Yes, I think that you can.” The stranger pulled something out of his pocket. Oh, shit. A gun! Kevin blocked Hunter’s body with his own. No, wait. It was black and yellow. What the—? Something buzzed. Tiny darts flew from the point. Every muscle in Kevin’s body went rigid at once. Paralyzed, he fell over like a downed tree. Unable to fling a hand out to break his fall, his body crashed to the hard earth.
    “Dad!”
    In Kevin’s mind he yelled at Hunter to run. But the air whooshed from his lungs, and his throat refused to obey his command. His limbs wouldn’t respond either. Hunter was no dummy and took off down the trail, yelling, “Uncle Tony, help!”
    But he was no match for the stranger’s longer legs. The tall man had the boy around the waist in seconds. One hand clamped over Hunter’s mouth, silencing his shrieks.
    All Kevin could do was twitch and watch in agony as the stranger hauled his kicking and writhing son toward the water. His soul screamed as they disappeared from sight. The stranger returned in a few seconds. He pulled a sack over Kevin’s head and tied his hands together. Blinded and bound, panic rose in his chest. Where was his son? Hands grabbed his ankles, and his helpless body was dragged through the dirt. His torso bounced off rocks and exposed roots. The ground smoothed out, then water lapped at his clothes. He was lifted, and his body landed on something hard. Metal echoed, and the scents of river water and fish flooded his nostrils. A canoe or kayak? He managed a slight roll and came up against a small body. Hunter?
    The vessel rocked as his captor pushed off and climbed in.
    Kevin moved his feet. The connection between