Colleen had paced the backyard, to the dock and back again, but now stood with her sister and brother at the water’s edge, still in her drawstring-bottom and tank-top pajamas, her feet bare. Her wrist had swelled up to the size of a baseball, but she paid it no mind. She felt nothing but fear, an electric buzzing that filled her mind and body with panic. “He couldn’t have gone far.”

“Yes, he could have,” Hallie said.

“He knows these waters.” Shane ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time. “He knows them better than anything in his life.”

“He doesn’t know them anymore, Shane.” Colleen dug her toes into the dark soil, feeling the earth beneath her. “He doesn’t know what he used to know. The maze of these marshes, they aren’t like anything in the world. They change and shift. Dad has told us this a thousand times.”

“But he’s also told us that he trusts the river. He trusts it . . .” Hallie shuddered with the words.

“That’s the problem, Hallie.” Colleen’s voice sounded flat and uncaring even to her own ears; she knew she didn’t sound the way she felt. “He trusts the river, but the river, it can’t trust him anymore because he’s not Gavin. He’s not the same.”

“That makes no sense.” Hallie dropped to a metal folding chair that someone had brought along with an untouched picnic basket loaded with snacks and water.

They were all being taken care of, but there was no way anyone could make the situation better. The nieces were inside with Violet from next door. The Coast Guard was out. Food had been brought. Neighbors were on the water. A missing persons bulletin had been put out. They had fifteen hours of daylight—they would find him.

“You blame me.” Colleen looked to her sister. “This morning, you blamed me. Like I could have prevented this.”

“You could have.” Hallie stared out at the river, speaking to Colleen without looking at her. “You could have gotten out of bed and checked who was awake in the middle of the night instead of just rolling over and going to sleep.”

“Hallie.” Shane’s voice was deeper, already years older than he had been moments before.

“It’s true, though.” Hallie nodded, still not looking at them. “If she’d just gotten out of bed.”

“I thought it was you. You always used to get up in the middle of the night and look at the stars. It actually made me happy, thinking of you outside, remembering those days. I didn’t once think it might be Dad. I wasn’t being lazy. I wasn’t . . . being anything.”

“It’s not your fault, Lena.” Shane rested his hand on her shoulder. “Blame the cursed disease. And you, Hallie. Stop pointing fingers.”