I threw up my hands in the classic referee’s T position. “Stop,” I said, laughing. “If even half of that is true, you’re forgiven. You can tell me the whole story later, but right now I have to get going.”

“Sorry again,” Hunter said, handing over the cat carrier.

I told him I’d come up with a suitable punishment and wished them both a happy weekend.

“You have to come with me,” I said to Eddie as I clicked my car’s seat belt around his carrier. “There isn’t time to take you back to the house.” As it was, I barely had time to pick up Ryan and get settled into the far parking lot. I drove to the road where we’d decided to meet. I gave the prearranged signal—a quick double honk—and waited.

No Ryan.

That was odd. I was late. He should have been waiting.

I tapped the steering wheel, thinking, then turned and drove down the narrow road until the track petered out to nothing. I jumped out of the car and ran all the way to the clearing, legs pumping, lungs burning.

“Ryan?” I called out as I crossed to the cabin. “Ryan!” The door was shut and I banged it open.

Inside, the dim light showed a dirt floor empty except for a slight Ryan-shaped hollow that marked the spot where he’d slept. But there was no sleeping bag, no tidy stack of food, no small set of dishes, no lantern. And no bicycle.

He was gone.

*   *   *

I pelted back to the car and flung myself behind the wheel. Heaving out great panting breaths, I started the car, dropped it into reverse, and made a three-point turn. In days gone past, I would have taken a turn like that in fits and starts, but time spent driving a bookmobile was useful in a myriad of ways.

“Hang on,” I told Eddie, and roared down the two-track, back the way we’d come, only twice as fast, which was hard on the car, hard on me, and hard on my poor cat.

“Mrr!” he protested at each bump. “Mrr!”

“Sorry, buddy. I really am, but—ow!—we’re almost there, okay? Almost—”

And then the car’s front tires reached asphalt. With a screech of rubber, we pulled all the way onto the road. I slammed the gas pedal to the floor, pushing my little car’s acceleration to the limit.

“Hope that seat belt is tight,” I said as calmly as I could, which wasn’t very calm, but at least I was trying. “We have to hurry. I don’t know where Ryan is, and I have a horrible feeling that he’s riding his bike out to the park.” All by himself, which was really, really not a good idea.