Before I can stop them, memories from a year ago rush into my mind. The doorbell rang and the guard handed me the red leash still attached to a bedraggled and confused Cash. It was just before sunset, May 20, last year.

“We found him outside the back gate, Mrs. Harris. Poor fellow seems really frightened,” the guard said, patting Cash’s head.

Before I could do the same, Cash darted past me and into the house. No doubt thirsty and tired. “Thank you. I thought he was on a hike with my daughter. I don’t know why he’s alone.”

“Well, it’s just a good thing he was at the back gate, not one of the Pacific Coast Highway entrances. Lucky fellow seems unharmed, just scared.” The guard tipped his green The Cove baseball cap and climbed back into the white pickup truck, The Cove Security printed on the side.

An hour later, Betsy had walked through the gate into the courtyard. Since Mary had returned from college almost two weeks earlier, the girls barely came through the upstairs part of the house anymore, opting for the side stairs and a quick escape. And they seemed closer, as if Mary’s year away at college had been good for their relationship. Even though Betsy still had a few more weeks before school was out for the summer, they’d reconnected.

As for me, it was like I had tenants who I never saw.

“Thank God,” I’d said, rushing to my daughter, pulling her into a hug. “Are you okay? Where’s Mary?”

Betsy looked strange, distant. “I wasn’t with Mary. Why?” Betsy was dressed in hiking attire. Gray shorts. Tennis shoes. White T-shirt. Actually, to be fair, it was an outfit you could wear anyplace in May at the beach. She could have been anywhere. Betsy’s face had flushed, or did I simply imagine that. “I haven’t seen her since breakfast.”

“Cash turned up, alone, at the back gate. He left for a hike with your sister, hours ago. He’s shook up.”

“Poor guy. Where is he?” Betsy followed me in the house, the first such visit for her in a while. Cash cowered under the kitchen table.

“What’s wrong, puppy?” Betsy cooed, crawling under the table, petting his head.

As I stepped closer to them I thought I heard a low growl. “Be careful. I think he just growled at you.”

“I think that was directed at you,” she snapped, helpfully.

I took a deep breath, smoothed the front of my tennis dress. “Look, I’m worried about your sister. It’s dark. Please, if you’ve seen her, tell me. Tell me the truth.”

Betsy ducked back under the table with Cash.

David walked in the door then, supposedly from work. It had been hours since Cash was returned to our home, hours that I’d been calling his phone, and he’d ignored me.