The shadow was gone, but a pair of headlights flickered once at the end of the driveway, then went dark.

“We can cut the power,” Walter said. “We can do a lot more than that.”

Suddenly, the basement door behind me clicked open.

I gasped, pulling Owen tighter against my chest and stepping back into the shadow of the refrigerator.

A tall figure stepped into the kitchen, smelling of cold wool and falling snow.

“It’s me,” Jake whispered.

He had his service pistol in his right hand, his face pale in the faint light from the window.

He reached out and gently took the phone from my hand.

“I’m here, Walter,” Jake said into the receiver.

I heard a muffled, humorless laugh through the phone speaker.

“You always did have a habit of staying in the dark, Jake,” Walter said.

“What do you want?” Jake asked.

“I want what is mine,” Walter said. “The trust. The land. Your silence.”

“You declared me dead,” Jake said. “You stole everything I worked for.”

“A minor administrative error,” Walter replied smoothly. “One we can settle tonight, or we can let your family suffer the consequences of your stubbornness.”