Now that I had something to focus on, the tightness in my stomach slowly unwound. Saskia was a flash of white in the wilderness, running from the riverbank to the tree line, weaving in and out, over rocky ground. She looped back to me often enough to make sure that I was keeping up.

Nightfall drew closer.

Cady would never let me search on my own past dark—not in unfamiliar territory. Not in a 750,000-acre wilderness that could swallow an adult nearly as easily as it had devoured Bella.

As the countdown clock ticked down, Saskia and I pressed on. I made sure she stopped for water breaks and did my best to stay hydrated as well. Thirst was an old acquaintance—dry lips, head pounding, each breath hot in my throat. Pushing back against the memories, I let myself crouch down on the forest floor. Cady had said that Sierra Glades had some of the tallest trees on the continent, but this part of the forest wasn’t filled with those giants. As I looked up into the branches, the dying sun caught the leaves just so. My fingers sank into the dirt, and I closed my eyes.

Bella was nine years old. She’d been missing for almost forty-eight hours. Her trail had dead-ended in the river. In all likelihood, she was dead. But that was what Cady had been told years ago when the authorities had asked her to help search for me.

I opened my eyes and took out my radio. In an area where cell phone reception was spotty—sometimes nonexistent—a two-way radio could be a lifesaver. For a moment, my dirt-smudged fingers hovered over the power button. If I turned it off, I wouldn’t hear them telling me to report back to base camp.

If I turned it off, the sun’s descent didn’t have to mean I’d failed.

Saskia ran toward me. She didn’t bark, didn’t indicate that she’d found any hint that Bella had made her way out of that river and into the woods. I pictured the current in my mind, the water, whitecapped against the rocks. I could feel the sharp bite of uneven stones tearing into tender flesh.

Bruises and blood. Lying on my back. Can’t…can’t…

Saskia bumped her nose against my hand. I stood. “Good girl,” I told her, keeping the energy in my voice high. “Good girl, Sass.”

Bad things happen to bad little girls, a voice whispered from the dark place.

I forced myself to breathe. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven.