Please, please, help me, she thought to the guardian angel.

And maybe the angel heard. Because when she bobbed once again to the surface there was no sign of the creature. She finally touched the muck of the stream bottom with her stockinged feet—she’d lost her shoes in the dive. She paused, catching her breath, trying to calm down. Slowly she struggled toward the shore, up a steep incline of mud and slick sticks and decaying leaves that eased her back a foot for every two that she managed to stagger forward. Watch the Carolina clay, she reminded herself; it’ll hold you like quicksand.

Just as she staggered out of the water a gunshot, very close, split the air.

Jesus, Garrett has a gun! He’s shooting!

She dropped back into the water and sank beneath the surface. She stayed for as long as she could but finally had to surface. Gasping for breath, she broke from the water just as the beaver slapped its tail once more, making a second loud crack. The animal vanished toward its dam—a big one, two hundred feet long. She felt a hysterical laugh rise up in her from the false alarm but managed to control the urge.

Then Lydia stumbled into the sedge and mud and lay on her side, gasping, spitting water. After five minutes she’d caught her breath. She rolled into a sitting position and looked around her.

No sign of Garrett. She struggled to her feet. Tried to pull her hands apart but the duct tape held tight, despite the soaking. She could see the burnt chimney of the mill from here. She oriented herself and decided which direction to go in to find the path that would take her back south of the Paquo, back home. She wasn’t that far from it; her swim in the creek hadn’t taken her downstream much from the mill.

But Lydia couldn’t will herself to move.

She felt paralyzed from the fear, from the hopelessness.

Then she thought of her favorite TV show—Touched by an Angel—and when she thought of the program she had another memory, of the last time she’d watched the show. Just as it was over and a commercial came on, the door to her town house swung open and there was her boyfriend with a six-pack. He hardly ever dropped by for surprise visits and she’d been ecstatic. They’d spent a glorious two hours together. She decided that her angel had given her this memory just now as a sign that there was hope when you least expected it.