“I do. Mark tells me not to jump to conclusions. The man stole Mark’s prescription pad, then tried to have a script filled at a pharmacy. The pharmacist checked it out-saw something wasn’t right. Mark called the police, and the thief, Clancy Reneker, was arrested. He went into a rage, broke away from the officers, and then he and a woman went on a rampage across Kansas, Missouri and Illinois.”

Tyrell couldn’t bear the thought of his beautiful, precocious niece in the hands of drugged killers, especially someone bent on revenge.

“I don’t think I can take this,” Heather whispered. “If those people kill my daughter, I’ll die with her.”

“Now stop that,” Tyrell said gently. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Just go with what you know. You’ve prepared yourselves for the worst. Let’s back off a little and think where else she might be. Might she have just gone to the zoo and forgotten to charge her cell phone?”

“She charged it last night.”

“Okay, then, what if she’s still so upset over your argument the other night that this time she went against character and intentionally turned it off.”

“She wouldn’t-”

“She’s eleven. She’ll be a teenager before you know it, and you know how she thinks she can conquer the world.”

Heather was silent for a moment. “Renee fosters that concept, you know.” There was a return to poise in Heather’s voice.

“Of course.”

“Mark and Renee and Chet are all at the zoo looking for her now. The police are conducting a massive search of the area.”

“Then I hope we’ll hear very soon that Doriann has been found and is in deep trouble with her parents. I’ll have a few things to say to her, myself.”

There was a soft sigh. “Glass half-full, right?”

“Cup overflowing.”

“I love you, Tyrell. I wish you were here. I’m just so…very scared.”

“I know.” Me, too. Terrified.

“Tell me how Dad’s doing.”

“We haven’t seen him yet, but I guess you’ve been told he’s out of surgery. Thanks to Jama, they caught the problem and it should be fixed now.”

“Jama’s the hero of the day. When’s she going to become my sister-in-law?”

“That hasn’t been decided.”

“Tell her I want to be matron of honor.”

Tyrell understood her need for the small talk. “Renee already spoke for it.”

“I feel a good catfight coming on.”

Ordinarily, Tyrell would chuckle politely at the continued, loving rivalry of his twin sisters. He couldn’t work up a smile, and he was glad Heather couldn’t see his face.

“Don’t tell Dad about this, Tyrell.”

“Not until you’ve found Doriann and it’s all over.”

“Are we going to find her?”

“Any minute.”

“From your mouth to God’s ear.”

“You realize, don’t you, that we can’t tell Mom, either,” Tyrell said. “If we do, it’ll be like telling Dad.”

Heather’s silence stretched into infinity. Being a son who had long ago stopped confiding every thought and action to his parents, he couldn’t identify, but he could sympathize. Possibly more than all the other Mercer siblings, Heather depended on her family for emotional support. She and Mark were devoted to each other, but their schedules were demanding and often staggered. Heather needed to talk to her mother about what was happening.

Tyrell knew this.

“Then we don’t tell Mom, either,” she said in a wobbly voice.

“For Dad’s sake,” Tyrell said. “We can fake it for a few minutes.”

“Or a few hours.”

“Whatever it takes. I’m here for you, sis.”

The small amount of information Jama had heard pounded through her ears. Her heart pumped with such force that she could feel the rhythm of it as she breathed in and out. She tried hard to remain calm.

Tyrell’s shoulders slumped as soon as he disconnected the call, as if he had been holding himself erect for the sake of his sister even though she couldn’t see him.

“I got the gist of the conversation,” Jama told him. “Fill me in.”

His face grew paler as he explained. A deep chill settled in the pit of Jama’s stomach as she listened.

Tyrell leaned his elbows against the table, his face more ashen than Jama had seen it in four and a half years.

Witty, lively Doriann, too intelligent for her own good, filled with faith and joy, was the delight of the whole Mercer clan. She could beat her grandpa at chess, she had a tender heart for the wounded, animal or human. One of her best friends in the world was Monty’s hunting hound, Humphrey.

Fran was proud that her brilliant, redheaded granddaughter looked just like her at the same age. And had the same assertive and gregarious personality.

Tyrell continued to recount Heather’s side of the conversation, numbing Jama with helplessness as she took it all in.

“I’m still clinging to the hope that Doriann is at the zoo and just hasn’t been found yet,” Tyrell said.

“You could be right,” Jama said, in spite of her conviction to the contrary.

Tyrell reached for her hand, clasped it in both of his.

“She’s resourceful.”

He swallowed hard, squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath. “But she’s still a child.”

“The FBI suspects the couple is on the way to St. Louis?”

“It’s only a suspicion. They could be anywhere now.”

The anxiety in his expression and his voice matched Jama’s own, and she knew she had to make another attempt to be strong-something at which she had failed so far today.

“You know,” Jama said, “so many times these past years as we’ve grieved over Amy, Fran has reminded me not to look back at what could have been, because that’s wasted energy.”

He nodded. “Mom’s always said that.”

“And the unproductive remorse only interferes with the optimism that needs to be the driving force of our lives.”

“That sounds great in theory, but it doesn’t work when my niece may be in the hands of desperate people. I want to call out the National Guard.” Tyrell punched the palm of his hand and got up to pace.

“Was there any suggestion about what we can do to help search?”

“None,” he said. “Prayer is our only option.”

“We can do that, and we can spread the word to churches in River Dance.”

“If we do that, someone is sure to let it slip to Mom, and even Dad, and I worry about how that will affect his recovery.”

“So do I, but don’t you think prayer is more important right now than silence?”

Tyrell nodded, reached for Jama, enfolded her in his arms and held her close. She tried hard to stop her trembling. He didn’t need to know how frightened she was. And how much comfort she felt in the circle of his strong arms.

Doriann skittered behind a tree at the edge of the woods and stood listening for a moment before peering around the trunk. The old barn looked as if it had been punched in the roof by a giant fist, and both ends of the peaked roof leaned toward the broken middle. The siding had once been red, but years of weather had washed it to gray-pink.

Doriann had her jacket zipped up to her neck, and her hood covered her hair-she’d made sure to tuck every red, wet strand underneath the muddy cloth. She wasn’t taking any chances.

Clancy hadn’t stopped cussing and raving since he and Deb left the river, but it was hard for Doriann to hear anything now because the barn stood half a field away from where she hid. She needed to hear. What were they planning to do? Were they really going to sleep in there?

Doriann studied a stand of bushes halfway between the tree and the barn. It was the only cover she would have if she tried to get closer. She studied the building, and saw cracks in the weather-worn wood. Could Clancy or Deb see through those? Would they even think about looking?

The left end of the barn didn’t look so bad.

Clancy’s voice suddenly rose again. For sure, he and Deb wouldn’t be peeping through the cracks to see if anyone was there if he wasn’t even bothering to keep his voice down. And so Doriann ran across the open field, past the brush, all the way to the left corner of the barn. As quietly as possible she dropped to her knees while Clancy ranted a drugged tirade. Tirade? Yes, that was the word.