“Listen,” I say. “Do you think you could do a favor for me? My dog is at the sheriff’s office in Mendocino. Can you get her and make sure she has food and water, and bring her here for me?”

“Oh.” Some heaviness shifts from his eyes as he sits up straighter. “Yeah. I can definitely do that.”

—

When I open the door to Cameron’s room, the blinds and privacy curtains have been pulled closed. In her bed, Cameron sits propped against pillows, her knees drawn up beneath the blankets as if she’s trying to become smaller while a nurse swabs the lacerations on her hands and wrists. Butterfly tape marks her right cheekbone and the center of her chin where she’s had stitches. Through all of this—wounds and bruises, invisible and otherwise—she’s beautiful. She’s alive.

Cameron looks at me. “Your name’s Anna,” she says weakly.

“That’s right.” I step closer. “Anna Hart.”

She closes her eyes and opens them again. “You saved my life.”

The nurse looks back and forth between us, registering the emotion. “I’m just going to step outside for a minute. I’ll be back soon.”

When she’s gone, I take the chair she was occupying, just a few inches from the head of Cameron’s adjustable bed, the bland white sheets. “You saved your own life,” I say as my throat tightens with feeling. “You did everything.”

She looks at me unsteadily, as if she might cry, too. “Thank you,” she says in a small voice.

“You’ve been through so much, but I’m going to have to ask you just a few questions. Do you know who took you? Would you recognize a picture of him?”

She looks away.

“Can you tell me what happened, Cameron?”

She shakes her head, still facing the wall.

“Do you have any idea where he might go?”

No answer.

“I know this is hard for you. But it’s really important if we’re going to stop him.”

Again she says nothing.

I take a deep breath, trying to meet her where she is, which is utterly shut down. “It’s okay. We can talk later. Are you cold? Can I get you another blanket?”

The bruised side of her neck twitches. Her beating pulse. Somehow I have to find a way to reach her, but now is not the time.

“I just want you to know that there’s nothing you could tell me that would make me think less of you. You’re very brave, Cameron.”

She half turns to look at me. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“You did, though. You could have given up.”

—

Will is in the hall when I come out of Cameron’s room.

“Anything?” he asks.

“She’s not ready.”