TRISTAN EXCLAIMED. “NICE OF HIM TO SAY something now that I’ve finally figured out who I’m supposed to be.” “That was my first reaction,” Ivy replied. “But then I reminded myself that at least he kept your secret. It was Will, not Bryan, who told the police where you were.” Tristan wanted to pace. He wanted to snap branches in half and kick stones. He was starting to feel like a caged animal, but it was ten thirty at night and campers were still awake. On a night lit only by a slender peel of the moon, most people weren’t taking hikes, so they were relatively safe. But this morning, a child, bored by fishing, had wandered away from his family and found Tristan asleep. Later in the afternoon, in search of attention, the child had returned. It wouldn’t be long before the kid was boasting about his new friend. “The first time Bryan would have actually seen you was the night of the carnival,” Ivy went on, “the night before the police came for you. Until then, he’d only heard of you as someone named Guy.”
