There’s a long pause on the other line. “No, I don’t know. I’m just trying to spend a little time with my son, Brooke. You know, the one I haven’t seen in ten years and I didn’t even know existed.”

“Shane,” I breathe. “Listen—”

“No, you listen, Brooke.” His tone is clipped—I have destroyed any advantage I had. “I missed ten years. Ten years. You didn’t even tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” I say softly.

“A little late for that, isn’t it?” He snorts. “But don’t worry. Now that I’m here, we’re going to be making up for some lost time. And maybe you’ll see what it’s like to miss out.”

“Shane…” I stand up from the chair, my heart pounding. I hurry in the direction of the door to the farmhouse. “What are you talking about?”

“I think you know, Brooke.”

I get outside the front door of the farmhouse. I squint into the woods, in the direction Shane and Josh disappeared. I can’t see anything—just blinding white. Where did they go?

“Could we please talk about this at home?” I beg him. “I understand how you’re feeling, but we can work this out. I just want to be a family again.” I reach into my coat pocket for the keys to my Toyota. “Tell me where you are and I’ll come pick you guys up.”

I’m going to drive along the road until I see them. I’m going to find them if it’s the last thing I do.

Except where are my keys?

“I think it will be hard for you to pick us up,” Shane says, “since I have the keys to the Toyota.”

“But…” I keep checking my pockets, certain he’s got to be wrong. All I can find are balled-up tissues. “Why?”

“I think you know why, Brooke.”

This can’t be happening. I can’t be the one responsible for having unleashed this monster and letting him wander into the woods with my son. This is going to be another one of those dreams that I’ll wake up from in a cold sweat.

Wake up, Brooke!

I race down the steps to the front door and slip on the last one. My legs slide out from under me, and a sharp pain jabs my right ankle. My phone has fallen out of my hands and is lying beside me in the snow. I snatch it up.

“Shane,” I gasp. “Please… let’s talk about this.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll be back eventually.” Before I have a second to feel relieved, he adds, “After all, I need to make sure you suffer for what you did.”

“Shane…”

“I wonder,” he says, “if you’ll scream louder than Tracy Gifford did.”

My mouth drops open. I try to speak but no words come out.