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immediately obvious when he sees that the call came in earlier during that time when he was busy agonizing and then acting on a plan to remove the body. The message is harsh, almost cruel, as if she had spit the words out.
I’m not coming out tonight, or any time soon. And don’t come back to town. I need some space. We need some separate time away from each other. Don’t call. I’ll be in touch when I think it’s time to talk.
    That’s it. Just a few lousy sentences. The words at first have the effect of instant paralysis. His throat tightens and his hands shake in uncontrolled frenzy. He sits without moving while the engine idles and he feels the heat in her voice. He plays the message over. Then again. One part of him might even have expected something like this after the way things were going, but not today. God, not today. He doesn’t want to go back to the house, but he has to. He can’t follow her back into the city much as he’d like to. He’ll have to wait till she’s ready. And maybe he’s forgotten to clean up something back at the house. He drives back in a state of semishock, yet calms down enough to rationalize that it’s better this way, isn’t it? What would he say to her if she was here? If he told her the truth, she wouldn’t believe him in a million years, not after all her recent suspicions. No, it’s better this way. Just as long as it doesn’t last, but he can’t worry about that now.

    Three hours earlier, Amos had driven east to a scenic overlook parking area nearly three miles past the village of Montauk, a right-hand turnoff on the road to Montauk Point State Park. The overlook had views of the water and dunes, but at seven o’clock on an early May evening, dusk had begun to settle. A stand of pine trees at one end of the parking area had already morphed the asphalt into dark shadows when Posner pulled his car into the area.
    The lot was empty. He drove to the darkened end where the car was largely hidden from the main road. He shut off the engine and rolled down the window. A few stray birds hooted into the dusk, but otherwise everything was quiet. This was the last moment he had to decide. He could still change his mind, but he had already thought everything through. There was no turning back.
    He chose a level site more than a hundred feet away from the lot amidst a dense thicket of woods. The ground was covered with pine needles and other forest debris. This was why he brought the rake as well as the shovel. He worked quickly, as there was always the odd chance that his car mightbe spotted. He raked an area clean and then began to dig. The ground was soft from spring rains and he surprised himself when he managed to excavate to a depth of nearly three feet in only a half hour. His clothes were covered with soil and sweat stains by the time he walked back to the parking area. He almost expected to see a police cruiser waiting alongside his car, and slowly peered around a set of pine trees at the edge of the lot, but the area was quiet. Darkness had already fallen heavily across the overlook.
    He opened the trunk and stared at the silver plastic package. That’s all there is now, he told himself, just a package to be disposed of. The form was much heavier, much more rigid than when he first moved it to the car. He needed to partially squat to prop the body on his back. At first he staggered under the unbalanced load. He teetered backward three steps before he somehow switched his weight forwardand stumbled ahead until he bumped into the open trunk. He steadied himself and cautiously shifted the weight across his right shoulder until he felt secure. He closed the trunk and began to walk into the woods, but his gait was uncertain. He wobbled as if drunk, barely able to control his motion until he realized that he could manage his movements far better by going from tree to tree.
    He stopped after ten feet, leaned against a tree, and pulled the flashlight from his left-hand pocket to