CHAPTER TWENTY
Zero maintained as brisk a pace as possible as he hiked to Indian Head Point, despite his aching limbs and the increasing pain in his broken hand. Attempts to distract himself by thinking proved generally fruitless; his thoughts kept coming back to the myriad unanswered questions that were swimming through his mind. How much time did he have, if any? Had he made any headway in convincing Pierson? Why had the CIA declared him dead? Did his girls safely arrive in Nebraska with Alan?
None of them were questions he could answer alone in the woods in the middle of the night.
At long last he reached the ridge and the small park that accompanied it. It took some searching, but he found the gray sedan, about a decade old, on a dirt pull-off at the head of a hiking trail. He didn’
