Seeing Meg with Declan was an education. It’s this glimpse into who she was before she came to the UP and crashed into all our lives. Meg strikes me as someone who has no problem speaking her mind, but I now realize it’s a recent development. At least when it comes to her parents. From what she’s told me, I can see why, but it blows my mind how far she’s come in such a short time.

Seems like it’s blown Declan’s mind a bit, too. But in a good way. I wasn’t sure what to expect from Meg’s stepdad. Not a lot, truthfully. She’s barely talked about him, whether it was because she was hurt or ambivalent. Turns out, she was definitely hurt by him and his disappearing act, but unlike some people I know, she is ready to forgive and move forward.

Mostly.

There’s this underlying tension that speaks to how fresh and raw it still is. Things have yet to marinate and settle down. Declan had to return downstate this morning, and Meg hasn’t talked to her mom yet, but I think she’s found a little more peace.

“Want to get dinner after work?” I ask, dropping her off for her shift.

She shakes her head. “Sorry. Can’t. Uncle James said he needed to talk to me about something youth group related.”

“Okay, I’ll text later.”

She presses her lips to mine in a lightning-swift move and closes the door behind her, hurrying through the heavy snow to reach the back entrance before I can pull away from the curb. I drive around the block to park in the public lot, and since I have twenty minutes before I’m supposed to start, I pull out my phone right when the alert comes through.

Fuuuuuuuuck.

0900 EST Monday—Missing person report filed for recent parolee out of Manistee, Michigan. Suspected runaway. Silver alert. Has connections in Marquette County. Missed check-in with parole officer. After follow-up, it is suspected man ran away of own volition but might be in danger. Looking for assistance in Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore and surrounding vicinity. Weather advisory. Rapidly decreasing temps and heavy snowfall/high winds expected. Canine rescue preferred.

I jump out of my car, running to the store and whipping open the front door. Duke regards me with startled eyes but is thankfully in the store alone because all I can say is, “Fuck! Fuck that fucker!”

I reach for the landline with shaking fingers and dial into headquarters, reporting in. My training officer, Cliff, answers on the first ring.

“Micah Allen reporting in.” I hear the rustle of Duke coming alongside me. I pass him my phone.

“Micah. I wasn’t sure if you were working—”

“It’s my dad, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

I swallow down the curse sitting at the back of my throat. “They’re sure he’s up there?”

“He left a note.”