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snapped.

    “You can dream all you want,” Trudy whispered, her breath hot in Rhonda’s ear. “But at some point, someone’s gonna turn on the goddamn light.”

     

    THE HILLSIDES WEREsearched all day and no sign of Ernie was found. Then, the next morning, a volunteer fireman discovered a pile of bones hidden in a cluster of rocks. The forensic team was called in and quickly identified the fragmented bones as animal: deer, most likely. The fireman had discovered the den of a coyote. The news cameras filmed a shaky Trudy with Pat clinging hard to her arm like she was keeping Trudy from floating away. The volunteers went home at the end of the day, everyone convinced that Ernie Florucci, wherever she may be, was not in the state forest.

     

    RHONDA AND WARRENwent back to Pat’s to check if any new information had come in. The phones were being manned by a grouchy old Cecil, who had a bad hip and couldn’t join the search team at the state park.

    “Not a damn thing. Phone didn’t ring once. The most excitingpart of my day was when that little Katy brought me these goddamn brownies.” He gestured spitefully at the tray of goodies. “I ate about half of them—whichI’m not supposed to, with my sugar. Doc put me on pills, maybe I’ll just take an extra tonight.” He sighed, ruminating on his misfortune for a moment. “Oh, and she dropped this off for you.” He handed over a manila envelope withWARREN & RHONDA scrawled on the outside in pink marker.

    “Damn shame you didn’t find anything in the forest. Watching it on the news at noon, I felt almost as bad for Patty as for Trudy. She’s taking it real hard.”

    Warren nodded. “She’s doing all she can.”

    “You know, I was on the fire department back when Rebecca was killed,” Cecil said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “I was one of the first on the scene. I’m the one who grabbed Patty and took her away. She didn’t need to see her sister all messed up like a bunch of dog food.”

    “Rebecca?” Rhonda asked. Nothing about this story was familiar to her.

    “My mom’s and Pat’s little sister,” Warren explained. Rhonda remembered the photograph in Pat’s office, the littlest girl on the end, her hair in ribbons.

    “Hit by a logging truck back in ’73. I’m no headshrinker, but know what I think?” Cecil asked. “I think Patty’s always blamed herself. I mean, she was the only one at home that day with Rebecca. She was supposed to be keeping an eye on her. But little girls can be as slippery as snakes—weren’t her fault and nobody ever said it were. Just the same, all these years later, here’s a chance to save another little girl. And she jumps on it. Throws herself into it like it’s her life’s calling. Right?”

    Warren nodded.

    Two lost girls,Rhonda was thinking.

    Cecil got up to leave. “She was holding one of Rebecca’s littleshoes when I found her. A white sneaker stained with blood. Wouldn’t let it go.” He pulled on an old VFD baseball cap. “Damn shame,” he mumbled. They thanked Cecil and watched him go.

    “I can’t believe I never heard the story of Rebecca,” Rhonda said.

    “It was a long time ago,” Warren said. “And one of those things people don’t talk about, like cancer or something. I barely know the story myself and it was my own family.”

    Rhonda nodded, thinking of the secrets in her family.

    “So, what do you think?” Warren asked. “Is it worth sticking around or should we go for beer?” He opened the envelope from Katy and shook it to let the paper fall out.

    “I vote for beer. It’s been a hell of a long day and it’s not like the phones have been ringing off the hook.”

    She glanced down at the paper on the table. It was a color photocopy of Ernie’s drawing of Rabbit Island. Attached to it was a sticky note:Worried the original might get confiscated, so I made a copy. Thought you might want one too. I still say it’s some kind of park with a stone garden or something. K.

    Warren turned the drawing to face him, and Rhonda was looking