The moon glinted off all the white and made it feel less dark. She ran eight miles, and only one car passed her. It was difficult to gauge the width of the road’s shoulder, and also, she imagined the car couldn’t see her, and she’d jumped down in a ditch as it drove by. As she got back, she felt much better, resolved to be better: to Kate, to Josh, to Martin; all five of the children. She resolved to do what she knew Helen would want. Kate is in pain, she convinced herself by mile six, she’s sad and misses her mom and she’s tired because Josh is useless, because whatever bit of security his money used to offer them is gone. By mile seven, she’d convinced herself that she should use all the energy she uses hating Josh being more generous to Kate and all the kids instead, that she should consider, at least, what they want.

But now her son is gone, and there is nothing else but that.

When she left an hour ago, both kids were still passed out on the air mattress. She’d taken a picture of them with her cell phone: the two of them so peaceful, bodies close to one another, still.

Now, it’s only Stella. Tess has searched the whole upstairs. She runs downstairs but quiet, barefoot, as if, if she doesn’t wake up anybody else, Colin won’t actually be gone. She checks the bathroom. She will not get frantic. She’ll find him, she feels sure, and she doesn’t want to later hear from Martin about how overly anxious she always gets. Inexplicably, she checks the kitchen cabinets. She whisper-calls her son’s name throughout the ground floor of the house.

She walks down to the basement. It’s unfinished. She checks the bathrooms, puts her shoes back on, a coat over her sweaty shirt and tights, and heads outside.

“Colin,” she yells, not caring any longer if she wakes the others. “Baby,” she says, quiet. She wants to break into a run again but reminds herself that that won’t help, that she wouldn’t know which way to go. The woods loom behind the house, acres of them, looking cold and dark. The highway sits on the other side. The snow is deeper back here, and her shoes are soaked, as are her tights up to her thighs.

“Colin,” she says, louder now, but all she sees are trees and snow, and she bounds toward the street calling his name.