TWENTY-ONE SEARCH PARTY

The sun ostensibly rose the next morning, but the clouds kept it hidden. Finn used the dimness to her advantage, slipping out of bed while Zadie was still asleep. It was six A.M. She had an hour—two if she was lucky—to do what she needed to do.

She pulled on a pair of hiking boots, slipped past a snoring Joel, and made it all the way down the squeaky staircase without his waking (his snores were so loud, she could hear them from the floor below). As she cut across the yard, the main house appeared on her left, and with it, a rip current of memories. She hurried past, head down. Parallel to the shore. That’s what her surf instructor had told her two summers ago.

She turned onto the trail and was almost at the top of the hill when her phone dinged in her pocket. It was Kathy.

WHAT TIME WILL YOU BE HOME TODAY?

Shit. Not only was Finn apparently forgetting her own name, but she’d forgotten what day it was. Kathy was not going to be pleased when she told her they were at least two days’ drive from home. It was not a conversation she was prepared to have right then, however, so she switched her phone to silent and left it and her boots under the maple tree.

Barefooted, Finn approached the crooked pine. “Hi, Mrs. Van Houten.” She probably could have called her Amy, but she figured good manners couldn’t hurt. “It’s just me today. I hope that’s okay.”

A sudden breeze made Amy’s tree’s needles shake like rattlesnake tails. Finn shivered. She raised her voice so it would carry over the wind. “It must have been nice to talk to your kids again.” As expected, the conversation so far was one-sided. She knew she wouldn’t be able to communicate directly without Rowan there, but she still had one card she could play.

“I’m not sure if you can hear me, but if you can, I have some questions I’d like to ask you.”

If Amy understood, she didn’t show it. Finn placed her toes in the dirt like she’d seen Rowan do. She looked back up into Amy’s twisted branches. “My name is Finn. You knew my mom. She told you her name was Wren, but it wasn’t. It was Nora Wilder, and I’m trying to figure out where she went.”

The wind died down and Amy’s branches stilled. Finn felt an earthworm wriggle against her big toe.

“I know she probably didn’t tell you where she was going, but if you know anything that might help me…”

Finn waited. Minutes passed. The soles of her feet began to feel clammy. The wind picked up again and hurried pewter clouds across the sky. She pulled the painted rock from her pocket, squeezed it until its cool surface began to feel warm in her fist.