She ducked behind a thick growth of a stickery green tree, caught the hood of her jacket on a branch that dragged at her for a second, then snapped away.

Clancy stopped a few yards away; she could hear him breathing, talking to himself under his breath. There was a footstep, then another, coming closer. Slowing near where she hid…whispers…laughter under his breath, as if this was all such fun for him. It made her mad.

She saw the toes of his grungy running shoes when he reached the stand of trees. She opened her mouth, breathing as shallowly and quietly as she could, but her heart pumped so hard, she felt sure he could hear the thrum of it in her chest.

And still he whispered. Like a crazy person. Which he was. Mad with cravings for the drugs that kept him high.

Doriann was never doing drugs. Never.

He fell silent for a moment, and Doriann held her breath. Then she heard his laughter, dark, wicked, evil…barely a few feet behind her.

She yelped and plunged from the cedar blind, into the woods where blackberry brambles scraped her face and hands and grabbed her jacket, as if trying to slow her down so he could catch her. But he wasn’t going to catch her. No way!

She raced and stumbled past trees, through thickets, to a hillside with a tiny waterfall running down it. She scrambled over it and down the hill. There she found a stretch of road.

She didn’t dare take time to stop, but she looked both directions as she crossed. This was the Katy Trail! But there weren’t any people on the trail. No surprise.

The road and the river couldn’t be far away.

Clancy plunged from the thicket she’d led him through, and he was angry now, not whispering but cussing out loud. There was no one to help her. She was alone.

She paused long enough to grab up some sandy gravel from the trail. Both hands full, she turned and flung the gravel into his face. With a cry of surprise, he stumbled backward, hands covering his eyes as he spewed his bad words.

Doriann threaded her way into the trees and ran as fast as she could, stumbling over roots, ripping her clothes on thorns, slipping in mud.

She couldn’t tell if he was following her, and couldn’t stop long enough to listen for him. She just ran deeper into the trees and prayed he wouldn’t be able to get the sand out of his eyes and come after her.

Tyrell was in his mother’s car, on his way back to town, when his cell phone jingled its tune from his shirt pocket. He was wishing he’d allowed Jama to talk him into a Bluetooth earpiece when his mother’s voice reached him over the airwaves.

“Tyrell.” It was soft. Dead soft.

He nearly missed a turn. “Mom? What’s wrong? Is it Dad? Has something-”

“Monty is sleeping peacefully. I took a walk around the hospital for some exercise, and I just happened to pass a waiting room with a television.”

No. Oh, no.

“There was an announcement about a child abduction in Kansas City early this morning,” she continued. “The child is still missing and the kidnappers are still at large.”

Tyrell could not speak.

“These abductors are on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. Killers.”

He swallowed. “Mom, what-”

“The child was described as a preteen with red hair and a purple jacket, abducted in the neighborhood where Heather, Mark and Doriann live.”

“Kansas City has a lot of redheaded-”

“I don’t know why, but something disturbed me about the announcement. Maybe it was because of the way you and Jama wouldn’t look me in the eye when you left, or maybe it was because that maintenance man who removed the television from the room couldn’t tell Monty what was wrong with it when he asked.”

“Mom, it’s been a hard day for you and Dad-”

“I just called Heather.”

He felt sick.

“She started crying, told me they had to keep that line open, then hung up. Tyrell, I want you to tell me what’s happening, and I want you to tell me now.”

Doriann’s toe caught on a fallen limb and she fell headlong, her face landing in a soft bed of pine needles. Stickery pine needles. She rolled over, looked behind her, scrambled back to her feet, and then stopped. Listening.

A breeze whispered through the pines. A bird sang somewhere above her. It sounded like a mockingbird. She didn’t hear anything else.

But the wind and the birdsong could be masking other sounds.

She looked up into thick clouds. She couldn’t tell where the sun was in the sky. How long had she slept outside that barn, and how far had she run? Would it be twilight soon? It could get dark before long, and yet she knew her sense of time and direction were both wacko.

She didn’t know which way to run. So she didn’t. She looked around for the tallest pine tree with limbs low enough for her to reach. She saw one across a narrow, rocky creek bed. She crept to the tree and ducked beneath its branches, then reached up and began to climb.

Tyrell turned onto River Street toward the clinic as he explained to his mother what might have happened to Doriann, and then, because he wanted so badly to be able to convince himself, he said, “Mom, nothing is certain. I know how it looks. I want to believe that this is all some big mistake, and that Doriann will come walking home any time after a day in the park.”

“But we both know that probably won’t happen.”

He shifted his cell phone to his other hand to signal a turn.

“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, Tyrell. She may be strong-willed and impulsive, and she may be desperate for some downtime, but she wouldn’t worry her family like this. Not all day. She would know her parents would call and check on her frequently during the day.”

Tyrell knew this far too well. He’d been driving himself half crazy with this knowledge. Denying the obvious did no one any good, but what else could he tell his family? That if Doriann had fallen into the hands of killers, she was most likely already dead? And yet…he prayed this wasn’t the case.

“Doriann is a very mature child,” Mom said. “She’s bright and capable.”

“She is.”

“If she is in a bad situation-”

“Worrying won’t help us right now.”

Another silence, this one longer. “I want to know where my granddaughter is, and I want to know now.” She could no longer hide the tremble in her voice.

“Mom, you’ve got to hold it together for Dad’s sake.”

“I…I know.” There were tears near the surface; he could hear them.

“This is an impossible situation for you,” he said. “Jama did all she could to keep you from having to go through it.”

“But I needed to know. Don’t you understand? I need to be praying.”

“The news about Doriann right now could slow Dad’s healing, even set him back.”

Silence.

“That’s why we tried to keep this under wraps until we had more information,” Tyrell said.

“I understand, but Doriann’s my flesh and blood. She’s your father’s oldest grandchild, and he would be livid if he knew he was being coddled this way.”

“Let him be livid later,” Tyrell said. “Right now, he needs to heal. Do you think you can keep mum until he’s out of the woods a little further?” Tyrell pulled into the clinic parking lot, relieved to see only two cars. The patients hadn’t arrived yet. Jama would have time to give him a quick orientation.

More silence from Mom. Longer this time. “I can do this, honey,” she said. “Dad’s going to be fine.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Not before it’s necessary. He’s the worrier of the family, you know.”

“The stroke he had when Amy-”

“I know. Let me handle him. And please, Tyrell, keep me in the loop.”

“Do you have to go back to the room for a while?” he asked.

She sighed. “No. I can have a nurse tell Monty I’m tired and decided to get a room. Tyrell, you do understand I’m serious about this. I want every update. I’m going to glue myself to the waiting-room chair and watch for every television announcement.”