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his waking thoughts. Not being able to climb out of his skin and exist, without notice, often without harassment, cost more than he could bear to pay, lately. Was it really worth it? At least here, on this island, he would be left in relative peace. This was nothing. He scrawled his name on his faces, covering as much of each picture as he could with the black mark of his signature, obliterating his image as he autographed it. Ian finished the stack and pushed it toward Mr. Stanos. Now he’d have the truck to himself, and sold only a small part of himself for it. 
     
    Evening come, transport of trees concluded, Mr. Stanos got behind the wheel and dropped Ian off at a nearby, false location so even the hotel proprietor would be in the dark for the time being. Ian worked on preparing limbs in the cove after the short hike and descent into his little realm. He propped a tree up on two boulders and chopped it in half. A fire flickered off to one side. 
    The last rays of the sun had not yet retreated fully into the horizon. Long shadows stretched across the sand, darkening the scooped indentations of his footsteps. A scrambling sound warned him of someone scrambling down the rocks into the cove.

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    C LUTCHING THE PAPER , Jane ran off the drive, into the avenue. She crouched behind one of the wide protective oaks, and thought. What if it was someone deranged, someone after Ian, who hadn’t seen him here, so now was taking potshots—or stranger still, someone after her? She tried to focus on where the noise had come from. It had definitely been the cluster of trees by the gate. Close to where the birds had taken flight. She got her breathing under control and stuck her head out, squinting into the trees. 
    She argued with herself for an uncomfortable thirty seconds. She was damned if a phantom noise was going to scare her to ground on her own property. Was she going to start going around armed next, or hire a patrol? In seven years they’d never had a problem. That time when they first moved in hardly counted. This was ridiculous. Depositing the paper at the foot of the tree, she crept forward, darting from tree to tree in the avenue, closer to the gate. She still didn’t see anything. Was she crazy? What the hell was it? At last she was almost to the small grove of trees. She hid behind a bush near the beginning of the copse, parted some foliage, and looked up. Someone was perched, high up, in one of the old oaks. Electricity flashed through her, scalp to fingertips. She put her hand over her mouth.
    A gleam of light flashed from the tree, reflecting off a round, mirrored surface. Jane felt a click of recognition. Her shoulders dropped and she let her head fall forward. It was one of them . The moment of release was short-lived as she thought of confronting a stranger, throwing him off the property. He didn’t have the kind of weapon that shot holes in you. No. He had an entirely different device in his arsenal. There was no way out of it now. 
    She got up out of the bush and strode over to the big oak. She stood at the base of the trunk gazing up at the trespasser. Although he wore what looked like camouflage, his shape was ill-concealed once she knew where to look: the open, wide-reaching branches of the oak proffered few lower leaf clusters to disguise him, the cloud of leaves all concentrated at the ends of the great spreading branches. Sprawled lengthwise like a sunning Chilean jaguar, he must have snapped one of the branches while scrambling for a foothold on his limb. He wasn’t moving an inch. She stood staring up at him. He made a small grunt and gave up the pretense, starting a hesitant descent from his position twenty-five feet in the air. It was a huge-trunked, lofty tree, with comfortable forking branches at considerable height but without any footholds for climbing. Jane didn’t see how he’d got up there without equipment. Maybe he’d brought equipment. Unbelievable.
    As