Jason was remembering how Luigi had picked him up. It was the second or third day after he’d arrived in Australia. He remembered making love with Luigi, and how vulnerable and fragile Luigi had seemed afterwards, as they lay in bed. It had been the first time since Brent had died that he’d made love, and he’d forgotten how good it felt to bring pleasure and comfort to another and also to receive pleasure and comfort from another. He remembered how Luigi had wept after sex and how he’d persuaded the other man to tell him about how he feared that straight macho-acting men like Jason would win his heart and then desert him. Luigi hadn’t told Jason then, but he’d been thinking of Cody when he talked about how straight or bisexual men weren’t to be trusted. The whole disaster of Luigi’s relationship with Cody had only emerged later. Jason remembered how their fragile friendship had strengthened and deepened, until Luigi had become one of the people in his life who were truly important to him. Two of the most important people in my life are in this car, he thought. And another is on the mountain up ahead terrified for his life. He was so afraid that Luigi would be killed. He’d been angry with the ineptitude and homophobia of the police, but now that was gone. Instead, his anger and rage had hardened into ice, a determination that he would do whatever he could to save Luigi, without letting his anger make him do stupid, ineffective, impulsive actions. He would save Luigi and Cody and he would deal with the Killer. Even if right now he had no idea how he was going to do this.