Darkness Falls by Kyle Mills

been a long time," he said. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
    "It's not that . . ." she said, and then fell silent, realizing that she had no idea how to complete the lie.
    When the four of them had scuttled their boat and run for opposite corners of the earth, she'd been surprised at the powerful sensation of weight being lifted from her. Despite having spent a great deal of time working together and for a while having similar goals, she'd never been comfortable with Teague. And now, with the benefit of hindsight, she realized that she was a little afraid of him.
    "It is good to see you after so many years," Udo said, seeming to want to move toward her, but then deciding that he was close enough. His German accent had become more subtle since they'd last spoken, and he'd abandoned his comb-over for a much hipper buzz cut. His clothes were more expensive and carefully chosen, too, with the effect of transforming the forty-fiveyear-old biologist into something closer to a forty-five-year-old Cadillac salesman.
    In truth, during all the time Udo had worked for her, he'd never been anything but pleasant. And yet, there was something about him -- the way his polite smile always lingered a little too long, the way his eyes fixed a little too blankly -- that made her think everything she saw was just a carefully crafted facade.
    He jabbed his brother gently in the ribs. "Say hello, Jonas."
    Unlike his brother, Jonas hadn't changed at all. He was still spectacularly handsome, with smooth, almost feminine skin and dark eyes that always seemed to be looking at something horrible. Jenna knew very little about him and, frankly, preferred it that way. In her estimation, he had been born a true believer -- one of those rare people who craved a cause to lose themselves in and to justify following the voices in their heads. If he'd been Muslim, he'd be a member of al Qaeda. If he was African, he'd be leading a genocidal campaign against a neighboring tribe. But he wasn't. He was an environmentalist -- a path he'd undoubtedly chosen for no other reason than his brother's involvement.
    "You told me we'd never see or speak to each other again," she said. "That it was too dangerous. What's changed?"
    "How have you been adapting?" Teague responded, his tone reminding her that he didn't like to be questioned. "You have a lot of time. What do you do with it?"
    "I stay busy."
    He smiled and pointed behind him at a nine-foot-tall artificial climbing wall bolted to the side of her fireplace. "Going up and down on that like a rat in a cage?"
    "Sometimes," she said, though it was just another lie. Climbing had been one of her great passions, but now she couldn't remember the last time she'd so much as touched that wall.
    Faking their deaths by sinking that boat had been the only solution to the fact that the FBI was using terrorist paranoia to intensify its scrutiny of environmentalist groups. Teague had been overly vocal in his beliefs about global warming, and there was little question that he and his associates were being watched.
    Of course, he had planned their "deaths" with his normal efficiency, and it had gone flawlessly, allowing them to work without the fear of being exposed. But then she'd discovered one small detail that she hadn't considered: pretending to be dead wasn't all that different from actually being dead.
    Teague stood and wandered around the living room, looking at things she knew he had no interest in. His hair was still long and thick, with just a little gray to hint that he was nearing fifty. Pale skin suggested that he rarely ventured into the environment he was so concerned about, and his clothes still appeared to be chosen for no other reason than to highlight the enormous personal fortune he'd amassed.
    "We're getting reports that a number of rigs have been shut down in the Alaska wilderness," he said, finally.
    Her legs suddenly went weak and she reached out to a small table for support. When she regained her balance and