In time he would teach him that there was nothing to fear about the night, about small spaces, tall peaks, and secret nooks—but first he must learn how to silence the child’s cries. He had seen the women in the village do it and tried to imitate the way they would rock their arms back and forth, their gentle cooing—though the noises that issued from his own lips sounded more like gruff howls.

He dipped a piece of cloth in water and brought it to the child’s mouth. The boy sucked on it greedily. Though he couldn’t see his face, the child had learned by now to recognize his voice and would stop crying when he spoke.

Those tears stirred something in him, inside his chest, where the muscle that pumped life through his limbs beat faster and faster. It was a new sensation, something that urged him to cradle the baby in his arms and shield it from anything that might frighten it. He knew that every creature on earth had been a cub once—and that included him. He wondered who had soothed his tears when he was little, who had chased away his fears, whose face had leaned over his bed at night and watched over him as he slept.

He couldn’t remember, and he felt alone again.

-70-

-70-

What if we never find this child, or what if the forest gives us back nothing more than his lifeless form? What will become of me then?

I’m afraid, so afraid that all my other fears have disappeared. I can cope with anything, but I can’t cope with losing another child.

The search had continued until sunset, but had yielded no results. It had been twenty-four hours since the abduction. Teresa did not see how it was possible for Andreas to come as close to them as he had—close enough to watch them at work—only to seemingly vanish, leaving no trace, not even a trail that the dogs could follow. How could he move around so often and so fast when he had the child to carry? Teresa was almost sure he wouldn’t have left the baby behind, hidden in some secret recess; Andreas knew the perils of the forest better than anyone, and he wouldn’t put the young life he was taking care of at risk.

But what if I’m wrong? What if I’m romanticizing the actions of a killer?

It was a possibility Teresa couldn’t allow herself to dwell on. Now more than ever she had to believe in herself, in spite of the exhaustion and confusion that periodically assailed her. She had to fight back. The face of the forest was shifting again as it became shrouded in shadows. Now was not the time to give in to doubt and fear.

“We’re all here, Superintendent,” Parisi informed her.