Hallie went running for the house. Her slippers had fallen off, one left on the grass halfway to the river and the other on the dock. Her hair flew behind her, tangled and matted with sleep. Colleen fled after her and they both burst through the kitchen door to find Rosie and Sadie standing in the kitchen, gazing at the broken eggs on the floor.

Colleen grabbed her phone and dialed 911. It took two rings, two eternal rings before someone answered, the voice nonchalant, casual as though Colleen were calling to report a lost stuffed animal. “Send help. My dad, Gavin Donohue, disappeared in the middle of the night in his boat on the river. He has Alzheimer’s . . . he’s lost.”

“Can you give me your address?” the voice asked so robotically that Colleen wanted to reach through the line and shake the woman.

Colleen rattled off the address and added, “Send someone now. And the Coast Guard needs to be notified. There’s no time to waste. He might have been out there all night.”

“All night?” It was Sadie’s voice wailing so loudly that Hallie dropped to her knees and pulled her daughter close.

“It’s okay. We’ll find him. He knows these waters better than anyone. He can’t be . . .” Hallie looked at Colleen, just realizing the most important part. “You heard him.”

“What?” Colleen took one step toward Hallie, oblivious that she’d stepped into the broken eggs, lurching forward as her bare feet slid along the slick egg whites. She wavered, trying to catch her balance, then lost it and fell hard on her bottom, her hip grazing the corner of the cabinet with searing pain. She landed on the floor, her legs askew and her left wrist catching the fall. Another sharper pain shot through her wrist and arm.

Colleen let out a cry, drew her knees to her chest and dropped her head. She wouldn’t scream in front of the girls. And it didn’t matter, her silly klutzy fall; all that mattered was finding Dad.

“Are you okay, Aunt Lena?” Rosie rested her hand on Colleen’s head, wiggled her little fingers on her scalp. “Are you hurt?”

Colleen looked at her niece and nodded. “I’m okay. I’m fine.” She crouched before she stood and ignored the dull ache in her left hip, the knife pain in her wrist. “Hallie, call Shane.” Then she ran outside as police sirens sounded in the distance, drawing near.

It took forever and only minutes for everyone to gather and work through the details. Kayaks and boats were sent out. Neighbors joined in and helped spread the word. Within thirty minutes, if there was a boat in Watersend, it was out looking for Gavin Donohue.