Frank only stared. He couldn’t say anything. He felt tears trickling down his cheeks.

“You’re going to be fine,” Grayson said, stepping up to her as he glanced at Frank, giving him an odd look.

“Let’s get an IV started,” one of the EMTs said.

Frank moved away and let them tend to her. Within two minutes, they had her loaded into the back of the ambulance. The sirens wailed into the night. Officers wound crime scene tape around the trees.

Grayson slid up next to him. “This could’ve ended much, much worse.”

Frank nodded, trying to get himself under control.

“You okay?”

“I meant to say Gabby, not Meredith.”

Grayson gestured at his legs and arms. “I meant those cuts all over you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Who’s Meredith?”

An EMT offered to inspect Frank’s legs but he waved him off. “This kind of thing doesn’t happen in our town, Lou.”

“You got a lead off that tip?”

“Let’s go.”

Restlessness, inky black and suffocating, turned Kay over and over in her bed. She kept her eyes closed, trying to force sleep upon herself. But it came in short spurts, and then her body would jolt awake, her heart pounding as if it were twice its size, like she’d been running from something she couldn’t see.

She opened one eye. The clock glared at her. Five thirty in the morning and she’d barely slept. Then something caught her attention. A white note sat perched against her lamp. By the glow of her digital clock, she read it: They found her alive. Be back later. D.

Kay propped herself up on one elbow, emotion filling the emptiness that was there just moments before. Tears dripped down her cheek, and she fell back into her pillow. It cradled her. Moments before, it had tormented her. She turned over, hoping for another hour’s sleep.

But gasped.

She scrambled to a sitting position, reaching behind herself and yanking at the lamp cord. Jenna? She grabbed her shoulder. “Jenna? Are you okay?”

Jenna moaned and rolled over. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

Kay sat there, her hand on her chest, staring at her daughter. The last time she’d crawled into bed with her was when she was six years old. Kay studied her face, still dainty and innocent, especially without the makeup and the attitude. Kay stroked her hair, combing it out of her face. She turned off the lamp, then slowly, quietly, slid back under the covers. She wrapped her arms around her baby girl and fell into a deep sleep.

Frank stood with Grayson outside Gabriella Caldwell’s hospital room. Nurses shuffled in and out for thirty minutes. Then the doctor stepped out.

“How is she?” Frank asked.

“Stable. She’s lucky she was found when she was. It took us a while to get her body temperature back up. She should make a full recovery.”

“Can we talk to her now?” Grayson asked.

The doctor nodded. “But make it short. She seems… traumatized. I know you guys want to catch this person, but take it easy on her, okay?”

Frank and Grayson opened the door and entered the room. A woman sitting by the bed stood when she saw Grayson. “I’m Beth Caldwell. This is my husband, Ted.” They all shook hands.

“I’m Captain Grayson. And you know Sergeant Frank Merret.”

Frank moved closer to Gabby’s bed. “She looks good. Color back in her face.”

“Thank you so much for all you did. I can’t imagine-” Beth’s voice cracked-“what she’s been through. Who would do this?”

“That’s what we want to find out. Can we ask her a few questions?”

Reverend Caldwell walked to the bedside. “Gabby?”

Gabby opened her eyes, blinked slowly.

“Gabby, can you talk to the police?”

Her eyes widened as she spotted them. “I don’t want to.”

The reverend looked confused. “What? We’ve got to find who did this to you.”

“I didn’t see anything.” She shook her head. “I don’t know anything.”

Frank fingered the railing of the bed, trying to find the right approach. He pulled up the stool the doctors normally sat on. As he sat down, he patted her arm. He could tell she recognized him. “Remember me?”

She nodded.

“Do you remember my name?”

“Frank.”

“That’s right.” He smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Warm, I bet.”

“Yeah. Warm.”

“Gabby, do you know how we found you tonight?”

She shook her head.

“Somebody came forward, told us that they suspected someone from your class did this to you.”

Gabby gazed out the window on the other side of the room. The sun, plump and dark orange, had lifted just above the horizon.

“Maybe this is too much,” her mother said, stepping next to Frank.

Frank held up a gentle finger. “The person that came forward risked a lot to tell us where you might be and who might be responsible for this. I know this is scary. You feel threatened. But we can’t let them get away with this.”

Ted stepped to the other side of the bed. “He’s right. What this person did is horrible. You could’ve died.” He took her hand. “We’re here for you. Nothing is going to happen, I promise.”

Gabby remained expressionless, seemingly staring straight through her father. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything.”

Damien stood at the printer, his fingers tapping against its white, plastic top. The paper couldn’t come out any slower. It had already jammed twice.

“Come on,” he muttered.

He took a deep breath and turned away from it for a moment. The large east window showed the glory of morning. Soft-hued light spread over the horizon, melting into the dark sky like watercolor.

Damien walked to the window, pressing his hands against the glass, looking over the town from the eighth floor of the tallest-and newest-building in Marlo. It seemed cradled, trees and rivers swaddling it on all sides. Safe. Pure. Beautiful.

“Hey.”

Damien turned. Bruce stood behind him, a grim look on his face.

“Hey, Bruce. You’re in early.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m about to drop dead.”

Bruce stared at him, his face strangely absent of emotion. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

“Say to you?”

“Yeah. Say to me.”

“No, what’s on your mind?”

“I just believe that if there’s something you want to say to someone, you should say it to them.”

“I believe that also,” Damien said, starting to bristle.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you need to say to me?”

“I’m positive. What’s this about?”

Bruce glanced away as if he needed a moment to settle himself down. “I read something on that Web site. Someone doesn’t like how I write my articles. Doesn’t like my use of vocabulary.”

Damien groaned. “It wasn’t me, okay? I mean, is my name mentioned?”

“No. Neither is mine.” His gaze fixed on Damien. “But sometimes you gotta read between the lines.”

“And sometimes you have to trust that a friendship is more powerful than a few words you read on a Web site.”

Bruce looked caught between relief and indignation. So he just turned and left.

Damien took a moment to compose himself. After the night he’d had, this was what he had to deal with?

Damien returned to the printer, grabbed the pages, and walked to Edgar’s office.

What he didn’t expect to see was Edgar’s startled face as he pushed himself away from the computer and leaned in to quickly punch a button. His face, red and flustered, remained expressionless as he looked at Damien. “Yeah?”

“Here’s our headline,” Damien said, holding up the pages.

“‘Found Alive.’ Perfect.” Edgar stood and stretched his back. “Do you know the last time we put out a special evening edition was when that bank was robbed? Nothing bad ever happens here, which makes for a great place to live and a horrible place to be a newspaperman. The only controversy around was those op-ed pieces you wrote when you were in a bad mood.” He took a breath as he skimmed over Damien’s paper. “Did you hear?”