He was reaching out a small, inconsequential hand. There was another hand, an adult hand, reaching back. It held some kind of doll. An Action Man, perhaps; Frank could see its combat fatigues and heavy black boots. He and Jake had a pair just like them at home. He could also see dark hair on the back of the adult hand. Long fingers reaching out for his son. He followed the arm, hoping to see a friendly face, but the body was hidden by a clutch of trees, intent on disclosing only that long arm. Those bony fingers. That dark hair. He watched, paralyzed, as his son began to laugh, and he felt every muscle in his stomach contract. His brain was screaming at him to move, but the sight only fifty yards away was like the money shot in a horror film. He was mesmerized by it. He watched, frozen to the spot, as his son claimed the doll. He saw those covetous fingers briefly close over his son’s tiny hand, and he screamed. He screamed until every last breath was torn from his burning lungs.

“Jake!” he yelled, terrifying Cindy into a volley of panicked shrieks. “JAKE!”

He watched the hand slowly withdraw and saw Jake turn around in alarm. His brow was creased and he looked slightly irritated that his adventure had been cut short.

“Daddy?” he said.

Frank looked at the boy’s puzzled face and broke into a run. Whatever dread had possessed him moments earlier, he was now fully charged with the fury of a stricken parent. He hurtled through the long grass and collected Jake in his arms, Cindy only a heartbeat behind.

“Here,” he said, handing Jake to his mother, breathing hard. “Check him all over.”

He set off through the trees in search of the hand. When he found it, he swore to himself, he would cut the fucker off. Hell, given half a chance, he’d bite it off. Make the man it belonged to howl like a dog.

Frank stopped for a moment to collect himself and ran a search along the horizon. The far side of the hill was denser than the side they had ascended, the long grass giving way to trees and gorse that thickened as the ground fell away. The idea of tracking the fleeing man over such unmanageable terrain was far from appealing.

“Fuck!” He ran a hand through his hair and breathed deeply, scanning the bank of trees. How could the man who had made Jake laugh−

Stop it. Don’t think like that. Don’t think of that sick fuck making your boy laugh. It’ll tear you apart.

−how could he have disappeared so completely? Frank had been no more than fifty yards away from Jake; hardly much of a head start.