Charlie swung the spotlight in the direction of the trees. The light illuminated the silver bumper of a small SUV. He slammed on the brakes, causing the seat belt to squeeze his chest. It was Lane’s Jeep.

“Radio dispatch and tell them we’ve found Lane’s car.” Charlie got out of the vehicle and hurried toward the Jeep, afraid of what he was going to find. His steps slowed as he inched toward the driver’s side. A breath escaped his lips. It was empty.

“They’re on their way.” Frost jogged up behind him carrying a first aid kit. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” Charlie looked around. “Maybe someone found her? Took her to the hospital?”

“Or she walked?”

“To the hospital?”

“No.” Frost shook his head. “Into the woods.”

Charlie’s gaze went to where Frost was looking. A set of footprints crossed the tread left behind by the Jeep’s tires, indicating that whoever made the impression did so after the Jeep skidded to a stop. The prints led into the woods. “You got your flashlight?”

“Yes, but shouldn’t we wait?”

“There’s no time.” Based on the condition of her Jeep, there was no way Lane had walked away. But if she had, they needed to find her before shock set in and killed her.

With Frost close behind, the two of them started for the woods. The underbrush scraped his pant legs with each hurried stride toward the river and the bridge. Charlie swung the beam of his flashlight back and forth looking for any sign of Lane.

“Ouch!”

Charlie pivoted to his right. Frost was on the ground. “What happened? You alright?”

“Yeah. I tripped on a stump.” Frost pushed himself up. “Dropped my glasses—ew. It’s wet.”

“Stop.”

Frost froze. “What?”

With his flashlight trained on Frost’s legs, Charlie looked closer. He ran his hand over the wet spot and turned his fingers over. Red. Blood. A chill ran down his spine.

“Is that blood?” Frost’s voice sounded weak.

The sound of sirens broke in the distance.

“Lynch?”

“We need to call Search and Rescue.” Charlie swallowed against the dryness in his throat. “Water rescue too.”

“Lynch.”

The sky shrouded them in a blanket of stars as the moon cowered behind a copse of trees. The darkness mocked Charlie. He had to find her. He wouldn’t stop until he did. He couldn’t let her down. Not like he did Tate.

“Lynch!”

“What?” Charlie spun around to face Frost, who was still on the ground. “What is it?”

Frost stood up and lifted his hand. He held something. “These aren’t mine.”

Charlie took a step toward him, staring at the glasses. “Those are red.”

“Only one person I’ve ever seen who wears red glasses.”

Footsteps and voices echoed behind them.