“He says you hit your head on the railing,” George Samson said. “He says you were trying to jump over the edge, and you slipped. Is there any way that could have happened?”

“No, no! I don’t think so. He was trying to hurt me,” I said.

George Samson said he’d call the police in Lindenberg and check in with them about Emily. “And I guess we’ll bring him in for the night.” He looked at Dr. Brent as if she’d know more about police protocol than he did. “I guess we’ll find him and bring him in for the night and question him.” He began to sound a little more sure of himself. “I definitely will want to question him, if we can find him.”

“You won’t find him,” I said.

“You just get some rest,” George Samson said, “and let us catch the bad guys.”

Sean Alameda drove Lucas and me home, down the inland road. Dark branches hung over the road, fir branches, sweeping and dipping whenever a gust blew through. I kept looking out the window at the dark trees, thinking I saw a figure ducking behind each trunk.

I let out a laugh, and Lucas jumped, startled.

“I didn’t know there were bad guys,” I said. “Not here. Not until he came.”

“There aren’t,” Lucas said.

At home, I saw someone in the bushes by the kitchen window, peering inside. My heart raced, and my hands went heavy with fear. But it wasn’t Cole. I recognized the mane. It was Tuck.

Sean Alameda stopped the car and let us out. Tuck came loping over.

“What the hell happened?” he said.

“What happened to you?” I asked. “You’re soaking wet.”

He took my hands. “Is that blood in your hair?” he said.

We went inside and Tuck dripped all over the kitchen floor. His pants and T-shirt were drenched, and he was barefoot.

Lucas said, “Would someone please just tell me what is going on tonight?”

“Let’s warm up first,” I said.

Tuck got in the shower, and Lucas found a set of clothes for him to wear. Cole and Lucas were both considerably smaller than Tuck, so Lucas had to search the attic for a box of my dad’s clothes. He pulled out a long underwear shirt, a sweater, a pair of corduroy pants. They had a faint musty smell but weren’t as bad as you’d think. I set them on the bathroom counter for Tuck to put on when he came out. Then I stood outside the bathroom door, wrapped in the old chenille blanket, waiting for him.

“Why don’t you lie down or something,” Lucas said.

I shook my head.