“If someone’s out there, why haven’t we seen him?” asked Elaine.

They sat awake late in the night, alert to every creak, every rustle. On the sofa, Grace slept deeply, unaware of their tense whispers, their anxious speculation. When Maura barred the door and propped a chair against it, Grace had assumed it was to keep out the wolves. But tonight it wasn’t four-legged predators that Maura and Elaine were afraid of.

“The prints are recent,” said Maura. “Any older than a day or two, and the wind and blowing snow would have covered them.”

“Why haven’t we seen any other prints?”

“Maybe he’s managed to erase them. Or he’s watching us from a distance.”

“Which means he doesn’t want us to know he’s out there.”

Maura nodded. “It would mean that.”

Elaine shivered and looked at the hearth. “Well, he’d certainly know we’re here. He could probably spot our light from a mile away.”

Maura glanced at the window, at the darkness outside. “He could be watching us now.”

“You could be all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a snowshoe.”

“It was, Elaine.”

“Well, I wasn’t there to see it.” She gave a sudden, hysteria-tinged laugh. “It’s like you’re making up some crazy campfire story, just to freak me out.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“She would.” Elaine pointed at Grace, who slept on, unaware. “And she’d get a kick out of it. Was this her idea, to play a practical joke on me? Because I don’t think it’s very funny.”

“I told you, she doesn’t know about it. I didn’t want to scare her.”

“If there is someone out there, why doesn’t he just come up and introduce himself? Why’s he hiding out in the woods?” Her eyes narrowed. “You know, Maura, we’re all going a little crazy out here. Arlo’s seeing ghosts. I can’t find my purse. You’re not immune. Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you, and those weren’t snowshoe tracks. There’s no watcher in the woods.”

“Someone else is in this valley. Someone who’s known about us since we arrived.”

“You only found those tracks today.”

“There’s something else I haven’t told you about. It happened the first night we got here.” Maura glanced at Grace again, to confirm that the girl was still asleep. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I woke up in the middle of the night and there was snow scattered on the floor. And a footprint. Obviously, someone opened the door, letting in the wind. But all of you were sound asleep. So who opened that door, Elaine? Who came into this house?”

“You never mentioned this before. Why are you only telling me about it now?”

“At the time, I assumed that one of you had stepped outside during the night. By the next morning, the footprint was gone, and there was no evidence left. I thought maybe I’d dreamed the whole thing.”

“You probably did. You’ve built up this paranoid fantasy over nothing. And now you’re freaking me out because of some footprint you thought you saw in the woods.”

“I’m telling you this because we both need to be alert. We need to watch for other signs.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. Who else could possibly be out here, the abominable snowman?”

“I don’t know.”

“If he’s been inside this house, if he’s been skulking around watching us, why haven’t any of us seen him?”

“I have,” a soft voice said. “I’ve seen him.”

Maura had not noticed that Arlo was awake. She turned and saw that he was watching them, his eyes dull and sunken. She moved closer to him, to speak in a whisper. “What did you see?” she asked.

“I told you yesterday. Think it was yesterday …” He swallowed, wincing with the effort. “God, I don’t know anymore how long it’s been.”

“I don’t remember you saying anything,” said Elaine.

“It was dark. Face looking in.”

“Oh.” Elaine sighed. “He’s talking about those ghosts again. All those people he keeps seeing in the room.” She knelt beside Arlo and tucked in his blanket. “You’re just having bad dreams. The fever’s making you see things that aren’t here.”

“Didn’t imagine him.”

“No one else sees him. It’s those pain pills. Honey, you’re confused.”

Again, Arlo tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry and he couldn’t quite manage it. “He was there,” he whispered. “Saw him.”

“You need to drink some more,” said Maura. She filled a cup and tilted it to his lips. He managed to swallow only a few sips before he started coughing, and the water dribbled down the sides of his mouth. Weakly he pushed the cup away and collapsed back with a groan. “Enough.”

Maura set the cup down and studied him. He had not urinated in hours, and the sound of his breathing had changed. It was coarse and rattling, a sign that he was aspirating fluid into his lungs. If he grew much weaker, it would be dangerous to force him to drink, but the alternative was to let him sink into dehydration and shock. Either way, she thought, we are losing him.

“Tell me again,” she said. “What you saw.”

“Faces.”

“People in the room?”

He took in another rattling breath. “And in the window.”

Is someone there now?

An icy breath whispered up her spine, and Maura spun around to look at the window. All she saw beyond the glass was darkness. No ghostly face, no demonic eyes stared back at her.

Elaine burst out in scornful laughter. “You see? Now both of you are losing it! I’m beginning to think I’m the only sane person left in this house.”

Maura crossed to the window. Outside, the night was as thick as a velvet drape, concealing whatever secrets lurked in the valley. But her imagination filled in the details she could not see, painting with splashes of blood and horror. Something had caused the previous occupants of this settlement to flee, leaving doors unlocked, windows open, and meals uneaten. Something so terrible it had caused them to abandon cherished pets to cold and starvation. Was it still here, the thing that drove them from this place? Or was there nothing at all out there except her own dark fantasies, born of fear and isolation?

It’s this place. It’s playing with our minds, stealing our sanity.

She thought of the relentless sequence of catastrophes that had stranded them here. The snowstorm, the wrong road. The Suburban’s slide into the ditch. It was as if they were fated to end up here, lured like innocent prey into the trap of Kingdom Come, and any attempt to flee would meet only with more misfortune. Hadn’t Arlo’s accident proven the folly of trying to escape? And where was Doug? Nearly two mornings ago, he had walked out of the valley. By now, help should have arrived.

Which meant he had not made it. Kingdom Come had not allowed him to escape, either.

She gave herself a shake and turned from the window, suddenly disgusted with herself for entertaining thoughts of the supernatural. This was what stress did to even the most logical minds: It created monsters who didn’t exist.

But I know I saw that print in the snow. And Arlo saw a face in the window.

She went to the door, pulled away the chair she’d propped there, and slid open the bolt.

“What are you doing?” said Elaine.

“I want to find out if I am imagining things.” Maura pulled on her jacket and zipped it up.

“You’re going outside?”

“Why not? You’re the one who thinks I’m going insane. You keep insisting there’s nothing out there.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Arlo saw a face at the window. It hasn’t snowed in three days. If someone was standing outside, their prints might still be there.”

“Will you just stay inside, please? You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“I’m proving this to myself.” Maura picked up the kerosene lamp and reached for the door. Even as she grasped the knob, she had to beat back the fear that was screaming at her: Don’t go out! Lock the bolt! But such fears were illogical. No one had tried to harm them; they themselves had brought on all their misfortunes, through a series of bad decisions.

She opened the door and stepped outside.

The night was still and silent. No wind blew, no trees rustled. The loudest sound was her own heart, pounding in her chest. The door suddenly opened again and Elaine emerged, wearing her jacket.

“I’m coming, too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“If you find any more footprints, I want to see them for myself.”

Together they circled around to the side of the house where the window faced. They had not tramped this way before, and as Maura scanned the snow by the light of the kerosene lamp, she saw no footprints, only unbroken snow. But when they reached the window she stopped, staring down at the unmistakable evidence revealed by the lamplight.

Now Elaine saw it, too, and she sucked in a breath. “Those look like wolf tracks.”

As if in answer, a distant howl pierced the night, followed by an answering chorus of yips and wails that sent shivers racing across Maura’s skin. “These are right under the window,” she said.

Elaine suddenly burst out laughing. “Well, that explains the face that Arlo saw, doesn’t it?”

“How?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Elaine turned toward the woods, and her laughter was as wild and uncontrollable as the wails coming from the forest. “Werewolves!”

Abruptly, the howls ceased. The silence that followed was so complete, so unexplainable, that Maura felt her skin prickling. “Back inside,” she whispered. “Now.”

They ran through crusted snow, back to the porch and into the house. Maura slid the bolt home and dragged the chair against it. For a moment, they stood panting, saying nothing. In the hearth, a log collapsed into the bed of glowing ashes, and sparks flew up.

Elaine and Maura suddenly stiffened and looked at each other as they both heard the sound, echoing through the valley. It was the wolves, howling again.