When Sheriff Borg emerged from Stimpy’s place, she took off, pushing her bike through the woods, which was no easy task. She wound her way behind the lakefront cabins as quietly as she could. She didn’t stop until she reached Adam’s cabin. She hid her bike behind a tree and tapped on his window much in the same way she had done the night before.

He wasn’t happy to see her.

“I can’t come out,” he said. “My mom is mad. She wanted to know why the floor in my room was covered in mud.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her I got up early to fish, but the storm chased me inside.”

“Good thinking,” Caroline said, and then she added, “Our plan worked.”

“I know,” Adam said. “It’s all anyone’s talking about.”

“Okay”—she put her finger to her lips—“don’t say a word to anyone. No one. And they won’t catch us.”

Of course, this was before she had learned about the muddy footprints they had left behind on the dock. She hadn’t known then that Gram had replaced her sneakers with new ones, or she would’ve suggested Adam do the same. She wondered if she should risk another trip to his cabin to warn him and tell him to get rid of his old sneakers too. But then again, Adam had given his mother a solid explanation for the mud.

She pedaled across the yard, deciding to go to Megan’s like she had told Gram. She entered the dirt road and almost hit a car coming toward her. She braked hard and swerved to the side.

“Careful, now,” the sheriff said through the open window of the patrol car. He pulled up next to her. “Are your parents inside?” he asked.

She tried to swallow. “My grandmother’s home.”

“Good enough,” he said. “Why don’t you park that bike and walk me in?”

She did what she was told and got off her bike. She walked it into the yard on shaky legs. While she struggled with the kickstand, he stepped out of the car and put on his sheriff’s hat.

“Gram,” she called, and stepped through the side door that led to the kitchen. She was hoping to avoid her mother on the screened-in porch. With any luck, her mother had taken off.

The sheriff loomed behind her. He was twice her size and three times her weight. She thought she might cry.

Gram was standing at the kitchen sink washing a plate. When she saw the sheriff behind Caroline, she turned off the faucet and stuck her hand holding the wet towel onto her hip. It soaked the bottom of her shirt and the top of her favorite pants with the elastic waistband.

“What brings you by, Sheriff?” she asked. There was an edge to her voice Caroline heard her use only around people she didn’t care for.

He removed his hat and turned it around in his hands as he spoke. “There’s been some trouble down at the lake, and I was hoping you could tell me what you know about it.”

Caroline stood still.

“Did you find that little girl, yet?” Gram asked.

“No, I’m afraid we haven’t. Not yet,” he said. “But that’s sort of why I’m here. I got a complaint from some of the fishermen that a couple of kids messed with their traps.”

Before Gram could answer, Caroline’s mother walked into the kitchen. Her face drained of color, and the hollows in her cheeks looked deeper and darker than usual. If Caroline didn’t know any better, she would think her mother was the guilty one.

I did it, Caroline thought. Not you. She didn’t want to get into trouble, but why was everything always about her mother?

Her mother opened her mouth to say something to the sheriff at the same time Gram clutched her chest and leaned against the sink.

“Gram.” Caroline reached for her.

Her mother rushed to Gram’s side. “What is it?” she asked. “Your heart? Is it your heart?”

Gram kept her hand on her chest and slumped to the floor. Caroline’s mother sunk to the floor with her. “Just hold on,” her mother said, and looked at the sheriff. “Call an ambulance.”

The sheriff shot out the door to radio it in.

Caroline knelt on the floor at Gram’s side. “Gram, are you okay? Talk to me.” She touched her shoulder. “Please, tell me you’re okay.”

Gram didn’t speak. She pinched her eyes closed and kept her hand splayed over her heart.

“Don’t crowd her,” her mother said. “Give her air.”

Caroline did as she was told and sat back on her heels, thinking she did this to Gram. She gave her a heart attack. “Please be okay,” she begged.

Gram opened her mouth, trying to talk.

“Shhh,” her mother said. “It’s going to be okay.”

The sheriff returned and announced the ambulance was on its way.

“You did this,” her mother said to him, and glanced at Caroline as though she read her mind, letting her know she wasn’t to blame.

The sheriff stood perfectly still, his face void of emotion. And Caroline hated him for not showing his concern for Gram, the one person Caroline loved more than anyone.

“Why can’t you leave us alone?” her mother asked him, and turned back to Gram. “Hang on,” she said. “Help is on the way. Hang on.” Her eyes were teary.

Caroline’s own tears dripped from her chin. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother cry, and the sight of her tears and Gram on the kitchen floor terrified her.

*   *   *

Caroline heard the sirens long before the ambulance arrived. The sheriff had gone outside to greet them. Two men in uniforms entered the kitchen with a stretcher. The EMT examined Gram, listened to her heart, took her pulse, and asked her basic questions: her name, age, where she was born. He strapped a breathing device around her mouth and nose. “Oxygen,” he said.

Caroline had been standing to the side, watching, shaking, wiping her eyes. The two men put Gram on the stretcher and lifted her.

“I’ll be right back.” Her mother rushed to Gram’s bedroom to grab her purse and insurance card. While her mother was out of the room, Gram reached for Caroline’s hand.

Caroline leaned in close and kissed Gram’s cheek, her skin was thin and dry. “I love you,” she whispered. “Please don’t die.”

“Stand back,” one of the men instructed.

As she stepped away to let them carry Gram out, she saw a familiar twinkle in Gram’s eye. The next thing she knew, Gram winked at her. Caroline looked around to see if anyone had seen what she had seen, if anyone had been paying attention. But the sheriff had left to get the door, and the two men carrying the stretcher were busy watching where they were walking.

Her mother rushed back into the kitchen with Gram’s information.

“I’m ready. Let’s go,” her mother said.

As the shock wore off, Caroline realized Gram was faking it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

For the first time in Patricia’s life, she lied.

She had told Jo and anyone who asked about her husband, Kyle, that he was a workaholic, that it was the reason he had left her alone at the lake even though Sara hadn’t been found. It sounded cruel and it was, but the real reason wasn’t anywhere close to being kind. For Patricia the real reason was much, much worse.

“Where are you?” Kyle asked on Patricia’s first day there, hours before she had taken Sara to the beach, to the lake, hours before Sara had gone missing. Patricia had been unpacking the groceries in the Sparrow when the cabin’s old rotary phone rang.

“You leave me this number, but don’t tell me where you’re going. What am I supposed to think?” he said.

“You’re supposed to think I left you.” She had planned the trip to the lake months ago, packing small items at a time, things they would need there but not at home: extra towels, old linens, books, and art supplies. Nothing Kyle would miss.

“Did you call a lawyer?” There was a hint of panic in his voice.

“No,” she said, her own voice cool and even.

“Good,” he said. “Good. We can handle it ourselves. There’s no need to get a third party involved. I know all those bloodsucking lawyers anyway.”