She kept her gaze on the shaking beams of light that were approaching. She held her hand to her head and again tried to will away the unbearable pain pulsing through her temples. She tried to run, but it made her head spin in pain. She took another step and then another. She went faster, ignored the pain and the yellowish light that flickered in front of her eyes. She approached a fallen tree, charged directly toward it and jumped. She landed hard, rolling in the snow, and came to her feet. She saw her own and Danilo’s white tracks and ran in them, not looking back, concentrating on counting her steps, trying to gain some idea of how many yards she had put between herself and the police.

When she came to one hundred twenty, she couldn’t run anymore. The ground ended and the pier began. She approached slowly and stepped up onto it with silent steps. She didn’t want her drumming footsteps to reveal her presence. She went the whole way out to the end of the pier and saw Isra. She had been able to get up out of the water and was huddled there, shaking and crying.

Jana turned around, intending to run back to the boathouse, but she now heard steps approaching. The police were here already and their voices were coming closer.

There was no possibility of coming onto land and hiding. She had to turn around and go back out on the pier. She rubbed her frozen hands together and knew she had only one option for getting away without being seen.

She took a deep breath and dove straight down into the water, which surrounded her with a sharp, paralyzing pain.

* * *

Mia Bolander moved quickly, her pistol drawn, past the boathouse and out onto the pier. She felt the small pricks of ice-cold snow against her cheeks. She stopped, looking over the water, around the forest behind her, and toward the water again. Squinting, she saw someone lying in the fetal position far out on the pier. She aimed her pistol in that direction and continued, hearing the planks creaking under her shoes.

She tried to hold her weapon still as her breaths came more quickly. Ten yards away, on the frozen planks of the pier, was a girl she assumed was Isra. Her clothes were wet and her dark hair had frozen hard. The scar on her forehead shone white.

Mia holstered her pistol and shouted to her colleagues at the boathouse.

“I’ve found her! Call an ambulance! Now!”

She felt the icy cold creeping in through her shoes and gloves. Isra lay on her back, her eyes still open, but she barely reacted.

Mia sank to her side, took off her jacket and laid it over the girl. She felt for breath and searched for a pulse before beginning CPR.

* * *