“People are growing paranoid. They’re not trusting their friends, their neighbors. Relationships are being permanently ruined.”

“My hands are tied.”

“What’s it going to take for you to see how bad this is going to get?”

“Frank-”

Frank slapped the map. “I’m going to the alley off Gordon Street.”

“Wait. Let me get some volunteers together to-”

But Frank didn’t wait. He couldn’t. He had to find this girl if it was the last thing he did. Ever.

Damien’s entire body shivered as he made his way inside his home. The heated air enveloped him when he shook off his coat. Unwinding the scarf from his neck, he took his first deep breath since he’d left the house hours ago.

He still trembled but from the inside out. Even as he sought to reassure anyone he could, dread seized every word. Nobody was reassured. Not even him.

Quietly, he turned the light on above the stairwell and tiptoed toward the top, hoping not to wake anyone. He’d left to cover the story and ended up joining a team searching for Gabriella. They marched through a field high with weeds, calling out her name, flashlight beams bouncing around like pinballs. It felt haunting, frantic, but slow and methodical. At one point, he’d stooped down, catching a glimpse of a shoe. Turned out it was an old farmer’s boot. But his emotions swelled, and it was all he could do not to show them.

He topped the stairs and stood looking at the closed doors of his children’s rooms. Both said Keep Out. But he longed to check on them, make sure they were okay. He grabbed the doorknob to Hunter’s room. His door always squeaked. He gently pushed his body against it and it popped open. Hunter stirred in his bed but didn’t wake.

He used to check on the kids several times a night. When they were first born, he’d stand over their cribs, watching them breathe. When they were toddlers, he’d stand over their beds and pray. Then one day, they didn’t want nighttime stories read anymore, and they didn’t come downstairs for good-night kisses. The routine vanished, and now they all simply slept and didn’t think about one another until the morning.

Damien tried to shut the door quietly, then felt someone grab his arm. He jerked around to find Kay in her pajamas, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t sleep.”

Damien wrapped an arm around her and led her to their bedroom. “Have you been crying all this time?”

She nodded, wiping the tears. “I kind of freaked out earlier, after we got home from handing out flyers, and told the kids they weren’t walking by themselves in the neighborhood. And I told Jenna she couldn’t drive by herself. Then I made some stupid remark about her skirt… They’re both mad at me.”

“They’ll get over it.”

They sat at the edge of the bed. Kay put her head on his shoulder, blotting her face with her hands. “I just can’t believe this is happening. What terrible thing has happened to this poor girl?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying not to think about it. They sent us home tonight and said we’d resume in the morning. Maybe if you came with me, it would help you feel like you were doing something. Rather than sitting here worrying.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I want to help.”

“Let’s get you to bed.” He pulled down the covers.

Kay scooted back and lay down, her body sinking into the sheets. She suddenly started crying harder.

Damien turned, rubbing her shoulder. “Sweetie…”

“They called me a slut.”

“What? Who?” Damien sat straight up. “On the Web site?”

Kay turned over to face him, her hands tucked between her cheek and the pillow. “In high school. It was painted on my locker one day after school. I couldn’t scrub it off.” She broke down, burying her face in the pillow.

Damien didn’t know what to say. Kay had never mentioned anything like this.

“I used to wear these really short skirts. They were kind of the style. But then these rumors started going around about me. They weren’t true but…”

“Why haven’t you ever told me this?” Damien said, taking her into his arms.

“I was so embarrassed. It hurt me so much. My friends stopped talking to me. I was totally alone. I had nobody. All because of a stupid rumor. And now I see our daughter…” Kay clutched his chest. “Don’t you see that string around her wrist? Don’t you know what that means? And those blouses she wears? I feel like I’m living a nightmare with her. In her.”

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

“I just don’t want her to end up like me. I don’t want-” she covered her mouth for a moment-“anyone to ever call her a…”

She cried for a long time. Damien held her until she finally fell asleep. He put her gently on her pillow.

In the darkness, he sat on the edge of the bed and listened to her breathe until each breath was slow and deep and he was sure she was in a deep sleep.

He rose, walked to the bathroom, shut the door, and kept the light off. He slid to the floor and stared into the darkness.

Frank walked alone, shining his light up and down, side to side, hoping to see something other than an alley cat. His hands tingled from numbness and his nose dripped.

This was his town. His town to serve. His town to protect. He wasn’t losing a girl to a crime like this. As innocent as Marlo was-or once was-he knew there were shadows, cast long and harsh against its streets. Long and harsh and old. The curse was not new. Just forgotten.

He called the girl’s name. It echoed against the buildings in the town square area. The crisp night air did nothing to stifle the rotten odors that fumed from the Dumpsters.

“Come on, Gabby. Where are you?” Frank whispered. He stood at the end of the last alleyway. Maybe he would go to the river tonight on his own and search.

Suddenly his phone vibrated against his hip. It was his personal cell. Who would be calling him in the middle of the night? He quickly snatched it up and looked at the caller ID. It wasn’t a number he recognized. “Frank Merret.”

“It’s Jenna.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to meet with you.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just need to talk to you.”

“Where are you?”

“Meet me at the park on the north side, where the bell is.”

The phone went dead. Frank checked his watch-3:45 a.m. What in the world was Jenna doing out at this hour? Did Damien know? He started to dial Damien’s cell, then stopped. He should meet Jenna first, see what was wrong. She called him for a reason.

Frank got in his car and hurried to Marlo Park, the only park in town. It reminded him of a perfectly groomed woman-manicured, brushed, coddled, coifed. Large silver maples boasted their color in the fall. Bright tulips spelled out Marlo in the center of the park in the spring.

Frank pulled into one of several small parking places and got out. His mind flashed back fourteen years to a warm Sunday afternoon. He and Angela strolled through the west side of the park, where five weeping willows marked a path that led to a small, man-made waterfall. There was nothing out of the ordinary that day.

Except that day, near the sound of the rushing water, with the birds singing their songs in the trees, he had knelt down and opened a small, black box. Inside, a tiny ring with a tiny diamond that had cost him an arm and a leg barely glimmered. It was small, but it didn’t seem to matter to her. She adored it as if it were of great value.

It seemed like yesterday.

Frank had yet to get warm. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and searched through the darkness, trying to find Jenna. There, on a bench.

She watched as he walked toward her. She looked cold and tired. And scared.

He sat down, his body aching and weary. He turned to her. “You’re okay?”