“Where’s Rae? It’s been thirty minutes. This is no time to make us stew.” Max was irate, irrationally so, the way a father is when he’s worried and hovering on the verge of panic.

Kellen tried to soothe him. “She doesn’t want to make us worry. She probably went too far and is headed back right now.” But her mind leaped to Rae as she had been once before, hurt from the jump, limping toward the house and crying.

They went out on the front porch and looked for her.

Luna went with them, sat beside Kellen, thumped her tail hard on the boards and growled softly.

Kellen smoothed Luna’s head. “You can’t go out there. You’ll hurt your paws.”

The dog strained, looking out as if she knew something they did not.

Kellen had to ask. “Do you think Rae found Jamie?”

Max swiveled to face Kellen. “What a horrible thought.”

“That would scar her for life. I was surprised she wanted to leave the house. Do you think she went looking for her?” Kellen ran through all her concerns, her fears. “Is there a chance Jamie is alive?”

Max shook his head. “Dylan is too frightened.”

Max and Kellen waited thirty-five minutes, then forty. At forty-five, Luna launched herself off the porch. As she raced across the lawn, nose to the ground, she ignored their calls, and in moments she had disappeared into the tall grasses.

“She’s following Rae’s scent,” Kellen said.

“Right. You follow her, I’ll circle wide.”

They set out in opposite directions, riding their bikes, searching, shouting. They were united in their task, but alone in their searches.

After two hours, the wind had increased in strength and volume. The grasses rolled and tossed seeds into the air. The oaks moaned. Sea gulls screamed. Foxes and falcons huddled close to their dens and nests. The first tendrils of rain clouds sent brief gray curtains of rain across the ocean and across the island, drenching Kellen.

She had been riding without fear, without considering the speed she used to race down the island paths. Now she stopped, straddled her bike, and wished she and Max had some form of communication with each other. Tin cans, walkie-talkies—anything.

At last, she heard it—a dog’s wild barking carried on the wind. She fought her way toward the source of the commotion, and found Rae staggering around in ever decreasing circles, muttering to herself.

She caught Rae and placed her on the ground, looked into her eyes and saw the wide pupils and the manic terror.

Rae seemed unaware of Kellen, of her surroundings. Over and over again, she said, “I liked her. I wanted her to know. Why would she hurt me? I don’t take drugs. This isn’t right. I need to get home.” Her voice rose to a shriek. “Don’t stop me.” Then again, and softer, “Why would she hurt me?”