She entered the park, took the trail along the grassy hills and brushwood, found a branch to use as a walking stick and began calling out. “Tug! Tug!”

Kayla was torn. Her heart told her that she should be looking for Tug in the park, at the spot where they scattered her mom’s ashes.

Holding back her tears, Kayla whispered a prayer.

Tug, please be safe and please come home.

Kayla checked her phone. Still no response from the college.

What’s taking them so long? They could have the proof I need for Dad to take off his love-blinders and see Emma’s been lying to him.

Right now, Kayla had to seize the opportunity she had, being in the house alone, because she was close, so close, to finding out what Emma was hiding from them.

Dad needs more proof and I’m going to get it.

She went in search of Emma’s journal.

“Come on, Tug! Tug, come on!”

Emma climbed the twisting path along the rising slope. Deep in the park now, she was suddenly wary of that strange fan of Ben’s—Del Brockway—who’d practically stalked them here.

Could Brockway be tied to Marisa and the notes? Could he be helping Rita in extorting me?

She couldn’t let herself get overwhelmed. That’s not going to help.

What was that noise?

Emma stopped. Held her breath. It sounded like a bark. Faint. Distant.

“Tug! Tug!”

Rooted in place, Emma listened. Another bark. Closer this time.

She didn’t know if it was Tug, but she moved in the sound’s direction calling for him, stopping to listen. For a minute, maybe more, she picked up the pace, repeating her call, then stopped and listened again.

She heard metallic tinkling, then panting, then she saw him trotting toward her on the trail.

“Tug!”

Kneeling down, Emma took him into her arms, welcoming his happy licking.

“Where have you been?”

He nuzzled her hand for the cookie. Giving it to him, she slid off her pack, poured water into a bowl for him.

She was thinking of texting Kayla when a tiny glint at Tug’s neck drew her attention. Running her fingers along his neck, she found his tab key—and something else.

It was new, round, attached to the dog tag clip of Tug’s leather collar.

A skull ring.

Ice coiled up Emma’s back.

Emma unclipped the ring to examine it in her palm. It was a death’s head, relatively new. No markings or engravings. Turning it over and over, her heart beat faster, her mind raced through a million horrors.

This is Rita Purvis’s ring and it’s a message.

Tug jerked his head up, turned toward the forest below. His ears went forward, twitched, and he barked. That’s when Emma saw a microflash of yellow in the distance amid the trees.