Fallon was two blocks from the used bookstore when she saw the jacket. Navy peacoat, brass buttons, collar turned up against the cold. She knew the shoulders before she saw the face. Her breath caught. She turned into the nearest doorway and pressed her back against the brick. The figure stopped at the corner. Fallon watched through the glass. In one hand, the person held a stuffed bunny. It was torn and flat on one side, missing an eye. Fallon recognized it. She had given it to someone years ago, before she burned everything down. Before she became someone else. The bunny was proof. Whoever held it knew exactly who she was. Fallon slipped out the back of the building and walked fast toward the edge of town. She had mapped the routes months ago when she first arrived. The cabin sat past the tree line, fog rolling thick around its walls. She had chosen it for the fog and the distance. For the single road in and the dozen ways out through the woods. She could disappear again if she had to. But the missing volume was here, somewhere in this town. She had traced three separate references to a collector who lived within fifty miles. Leaving now meant losing the search. Fallon reached the cabin and locked the door. She would have to decide how much she was willing to risk.