Will radios for help from the ranger station and works to assemble every available man for the search-and-rescue mission while I study the map with sickening stabs of self-doubt. There’s an area north and east of my cabin, deep into the green swath of reserve land, that might be right. But is it? Did I cross a service road that day? Is the river that far from the highest ridgeline? Is the elevation right?

“You have the coordinates?” Will asks from behind me.

“Here.” I point at the area I’ve found, hoping to God I’m not mistaken. “The county road will get us within a few miles, but the rest we’ll have to do on foot, splitting into teams with walkie-talkies. Each team will need a photocopy of this sketch I’ve done of the Pomo shelter, along with the coordinates and the plate number of the white Toyota pickup truck registered in Caleb’s name.”

“Got it,” he says. Then his eyes narrow. “You okay?”

“Of course.” I try to breathe. “I’m ready.”

—

Within half an hour the convoy sets off in silence from town, dozens of vehicles churning up mud along Little Lake Road toward the main entrance for Jackson State Forest, the rain spattering the windshield. With each winding turn, I feel a similar twist deep inside, wondering if we’re already too late.

Will and I ride together without speaking. The sky is so dark it might as well be night by the time we reach the service road, the end of the line for vehicular travel. From there we connect with the rest of the team, all of us in black ponchos that become slick before we’ve even switched on our walkies to set off on foot. I take the lead, trying not to think at all or to let my anxiety cloud my instincts, hoping that my body knows exactly where it’s going and can take me there by feel. But the stakes are so high now it’s hard not to let panic slip in.

We hike for a mile, two miles, twenty-five searchers in a line or sometimes a tight V until the terrain makes that impossible, all of us soaked to the skin. Even when we pull out our flashlights, the heavy atmosphere makes visibility a challenge, the vegetation dripping in one thick mass around us, the hills and valleys growing more and more slick and steep, impenetrable in places. Each time I come to a fork in the trail, I look desperately for landmarks, any sort of sign that I’m on the right track, but it all looks different in the rain. I can’t be sure I’ve ever been here at all, but fight to keep my fear and doubt from showing. The team needs to believe I know the way. I need to believe it even more.