Fiona ran over to Al’s trailer half hoping that although she’d never done it before, Natasha had gone there for some reason of her own. But when Al answered the door expecting his supper, she charged in breathless and said, “Is Natasha here?”

“What? What?” he said in confusion.

“NATASHA! She left with her binoculars and she hasn’t come back. We think she’s lost in the woods.”

“Oh no,” said Al, and sat down on the couch.

“And we need you to come over. Our principal, Miss Webster, is bringing people to help search and we are worried questions will be asked. You have to come over and pretend to live with us.”

Al nodded and put on his shoes. Then they started out the door and down the road. But he could not keep up with Fiona, who was practically running while he stumbled, none too steady on his feet.

Oh, great, she thought. People are going to find us with a grown-up but a drunk one.

But this was such a small worry compared to Natasha’s disappearance that she gave it no more thought and began to call Natasha’s name again.

People arrived constantly after that. Miss Webster and Mr. Pettinger were the first but slowly people they didn’t even know were pulling up in cars. The whole of the girls’ driveway and both sides of the road were lined with the cars of people who had heard about the lost little girl. Finally, Miss Webster decided it was time to call the volunteer fire department, Search and Rescue, and the police, all of whom arrived almost immediately after being phoned. Al did his part pretending to be the official spokesperson although Fiona caught one officer making a face of disgust as he smelled the beer on Al’s breath. But at such a time no one was going to say anything admonishing to anyone. One Search and Rescue worker even patted Al reassuringly on the arm and said he was sure they’d find Natasha, not to worry.

But two hours passed and Natasha had still not been found. Then began a steady drenching West Coast rain. Searchers came into the house to warm up, telling the girls not to panic, Natasha wasn’t the first person lost in the woods. They were always found. Everyone seemed to have a story about an aunt or cousin or friend who went missing for two days, six days, a month, and returned alive. Fiona found some comfort in these stories and the kindness of the people telling them. It kept her hopeful between bouts of wondering where in the world Nat could be and the niggling thought, Yes, your cousin returned but that doesn’t mean it will be the case this time.

People searched until they were drenched and then they drove home to change and return. Others arrived with food and put it on tables and counters all over the house. One woman brought a large coffee urn from the community hall and kept it full. All that the girls could hear from the house, from which they were not allowed to stray, was Natasha’s name being yelled over and over through the woods and up the sides of mountains that made the backdrop of the property. To Fiona it was the terrible silence it was met with that was the worst. Not to be able to imagine what had befallen Natasha or where she was or why she was not answering. Not knowing if something terrible had already happened to her. To hear her name and the following silence like the silence of her parents after their death. They might call to them too but there would never again be an answer.