“So what you’re saying is—”

“The cameras don’t run all the time. When a resident removes their microchip, for all intents and purposes, they become a ghost. Somehow, these Wanderers have figured out a way to game the system.”

“Show me.”

Ted brought up a new image, said, “Here’s the last thirty seconds we have of Kate on the night Alyssa was murdered.”

On the screens, a bedroom appeared.

Kate entered the room wearing a nightgown that fell to her knees.

Her husband followed.

They climbed into bed together, killed the lights.

The overhead camera switched to night vision.

The Ballingers lay absolutely still in bed.

After fifteen seconds, the feed went dark.

Next time it picked up, morning light filled the room, and both Kate and her husband were sitting up in bed.

“Reinserting their chips,” Ethan said.

“Yes. But all night, from approximately ten fifteen until seven thirty the next morning, they were ghosts. And in that period of time, Alyssa Pilcher lost her life.”

“This is why Pilcher really runs the fêtes, isn’t it?” Ethan looked at Ted. “Am I right? It’s not only because he wants the town to police itself. It’s because when someone removes their chip, he actually needs our help to find them.”

Ethan called for Marcus.

When his escort arrived, Ethan said, “I want to see Alyssa’s quarters.”

They climbed the stairwell two flights to Level 4.

Five steps into the corridor, Ethan knew which doorway opened into Alyssa’s room by the bunches of fresh flowers scattered across the floor. He wondered if Pilcher had sent someone into town for them. All around the doorframe the wall had been papered with notes, cards, photographs, banners.

Whoever and whatever else Alyssa had been, at least inside this mountain, she was a loved woman.

“Sir,” the escort said, “I got those reports you asked for.”

Marcus handed Ethan a manila folder.

“I’d like to go inside,” Ethan said.

“Of course.”

Marcus took out his keycard and swiped it through the scanner.

Ethan turned the doorknob, walked inside.

It was a tight living space.

Windowless.

No more than a hundred square feet.

A single bed had been positioned against the far wall. There was a desk. A chest of drawers. A wall of bookshelves, half of which held books, the other half framed photographs.

Ethan studied them, the photos all of the same woman at varying ages—young girl to fifty-year-old woman.

Alyssa’s mother?

Ethan sat down on Alyssa’s bed.

The wall across from the bookshelves was a masterful mural of a beach—palm trees, green water over dark reefs, white sand, a sky that went on forever.

Ethan leaned back into the pillows, kicked his boots up on the bed.

Smiled.

From this angle, when you stared at the mural it felt like you were there, reclining in the sand, staring off into that false line on the horizon where the sea touched the sky.

The folder was entitled “Mission #1055 Contact Log.”

He opened it.

Five pages.

Five reports.

Day #5293

From: Alyssa Pilcher

To: David Pilcher

Mission #1055

Contact Report #1

Subject: Resident 308, a/k/a Kate Ballinger

First contact made at approximately 1125 at the corner of Main and Ninth. Note slipped to Kate Ballinger that read, “Sick of being watched.” Brief eye contact made. No words spoken. No further contact was made on this date.

Day #5311

From: Alyssa Pilcher

To: David Pilcher

Mission #1055

Contact Report #2

Subject: Resident 308, a/k/a Kate Ballinger

Eighteen days post-initial contact, Ballinger approached me at the gardens and gave me a bell pepper. The pepper had been sliced open and there was a note inside that read: “Tracking chip on hamstring in your left leg. Cut it out in a closet, but keep with you until further notice.” Two potential rendezvous times were given for me to confirm I had removed the chip. The first at 1400 on Day 5312. The next at 1500 on Day 5313. If I failed to remove the chip by Day 5313, we would have no further interaction. No further contact was made on this date.

Day #5312

From: Alyssa Pilcher

To: David Pilcher

Mission #1055 Contact Report #3

Subject: Resident 308, a/k/a Kate Ballinger

At 1400, I passed Ballinger walking south on Main Street near the intersection of Sixth. I shook my head. No further contact was made on this date.

Day #5313

From: Alyssa Pilcher

To: David Pilcher

Mission #1055

Contact Report #4

Subject: Resident 308, a/k/a Kate Ballinger

At 1500, I passed Ballinger walking south on the riverside trail. I nodded to her. She smiled. No further contact was made on this date.

Day #5314

From: Alyssa Pilcher

To: David Pilcher

Mission #1055

Contact Report #5

Subject: Resident 308, a/k/a Kate Ballinger

Ballinger returned to my stand at the gardens with a second bell pepper. The note inside read: “Tonight. 1:00 a.m. The cemetery mausoleum. Leave your chip in your bedside table. Wear a jacket with a hood.” Will follow up with a new report tomorrow.

Ethan moved through the Level 3 corridor with his escort in tow.

Halfway down, he stopped at a pair of double doors. Through the glass, he saw a full-court basketball game in progress. Shirts versus skins. The impact of the ball on the hardwood. The squeak of shoes. For a millisecond, he had the mad thought of joining in the game.

They walked on.

“Mind if I ask you something, Marcus?”

“Shoot.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“And how long have you lived here in the superstructure?”

“Mr. Pilcher brought me out of suspension two years ago to replace a guard who was killed on a mission out beyond the fence.”

“Everyone in the mountain knew what they were getting themselves into when they signed on with Pilcher, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“So why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

Ethan stopped outside the doors to a cafeteria.

He faced Marcus.

“Why’d you throw your old life away for this?”