Has it been another year? So much time in these mountains. It passes indifferently. I should be discouraged I've not yet found him after so much time. After his taunting audio tapes and the murder of so many more people... I should have disappeared again, the way I did after the towers fell, after my name was read at countless memorials, my wife and children weeping with so many others. I shouldn't still have this rage, this focus, this drive - should I? Is this insanity?

I don't care. I don't exist, anyway, so why should the definitions of sanity and insanity apply? I watched them bury my 'remains', put up a headstone, say their goodbyes. It's what I wanted. I wanted them to think I was dead. There was no life prior to September 11th worth living afterwards. I'd stolen and betrayed and consumed without regard for anyone but myself. I'd created shadow accounts, stashed away millions that no one missed, while maintaining a restricted, conservative suburban life most people would have been pretty happy with. I miss my sons. I miss my yard. I imagine my wife has met someone else by now. I hope she has. The secrets I've kept from her are too numerous to count. I wish there was another way. But in death I gave them so much more than I was willing to in life.

I've spent nearly three years trying to redeem my betrayals. I live in the truth, day to day. There is no other way to live up here. Perhaps that's why he found the caves and craggs of these mountains so perfect: He can live his truth to its full extent.

My truth requires that I kill him.

And I'm closer than I've ever been...