“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. I saw Tara.” Emily’s voice was hollow. “In the woods, running.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone you saw me?” Emily shot back.

“Because I wanted to protect you!”

“I was doing the same for Tara!”

The sisters stared at each other, both of their chests heaving, the air in the tiny office heavy with guilt and secrets.

Emily believed she was protecting Tara by staying silent.

“What did Tara do?” Madison whispered.

“I don’t know—I don’t want to know.”

Realization struck Madison like a hammer, stealing her breath. “That’s why you never searched for her.”

“I didn’t want to know what she had done.” Emily’s eyes were wet. “It had to be bad—why else would she leave?” She set down the photo as a struggle played out across her face.

“What is it?” Madison’s heart sank at her sister’s expression. “Tell me.”

“Zander found Tara this morning. I talked to her just hours ago.”

Madison’s mouth dried up, and her core turned to ice.

“Girls?” Dory stepped in the office, worry on her soft features, her hands in knots.

“What is it, Auntie?” Emily asked as calmly as if she and Madison had been discussing the weather. Madison was still speechless, Emily’s revelations ricocheting like a Super Ball in her skull.

Dory frowned, the lines around her mouth deepening. “I believe I just saw Tara.”

Emily rose out of her chair. “Where?” she gasped.

“Well, I think it was her. You know I’ve thought I’ve seen her a few times in the past.” Her gaze was uncertain.

True. Dory had directed them on a few wrong expeditions, startling confused young women.

“She looked right at me,” Dory continued. “She was older, of course, and her hair was short and brown, but I’m sure it was her.”

Disappointment filled Madison. Dory was confused.

“Brown hair?” Emily grasped Dory’s arm. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It was about this long.” Dory lifted a hand to her chin.

“Madison. That’s her.” Excitement filled Emily’s face. “She’s come back.”

“Wait.” Madison struggled to catch up. “You mean that’s how her hair looks now?”

“Yes. Is she in the diner, Dory?”

“No. I saw her in a car—well, one of those SUV things.”

“Where?” Impatience rolled off Emily.

“She passed me as I drove to town. When I looked in the rearview mirror, I saw her turn onto Seabound Road.”

“That road only goes to one place,” Emily said. She picked up one of the pictures, holding it for Madison to see. “This one.”

Their parents posed on the overlook.

32

Zander met Sheriff Greer in front of Leo’s home.

According to Isaac, Billy was hiding out three houses down from where he lived with Leo. A deputy had done a drive-by, but the house sat too far back in the tall trees to be seen from the road.

“How confident are you in your witness?” Greer asked Zander, holding his hat against the wind. Two deputies had joined them, forming a huddle in Leo’s driveway, out of sight of any cars that would pass.

Zander doubted anyone would drive down the road. The area felt deserted. Isaac had been right when he described it as isolated. Only the presence of gravel driveways that fed into the road hinted that homes even existed.

It was a good place to disappear.

He thought about how Isaac had struggled to tell him the news. As nervous as he was, Zander had seen certainty in his eyes. “He got pretty close. He was positive it was Billy.”

“The house is a rental. The owner says a young woman named Rachel Wolfe is the current renter.”

“That backs up Kyle Osburne’s suggestion that his brother might be with a girl.”

“Fifty-fifty chance that the renter was female,” Greer pointed out.

“But a young female?”

The sheriff grunted. “Wish I knew if he was armed.”

“There’s a good chance he is since he’s a suspect in Nate Copeland’s murder,” Zander said.

The two deputies muttered and shuffled their feet, shooting angry looks at the mention of their murdered coworker. The two men were young, probably in their midtwenties, and Zander hoped their emotions wouldn’t affect this outcome. The one named Daigle seemed familiar, and Zander realized he was the deputy who was to go to the beach with Nate the day he died.

“I’ve activated our SERT team,” the sheriff said. “I want them here if we confirm Billy is in that house, but it’ll take at least an hour for them to arrive. The team is made up of some of my deputies, a few Astoria officers, and Seaside officers.”

“Understood.” Impatience swamped Zander. Calling in the specialty team was the right thing to do. They knew how to handle a possible standoff or hostage situation.

“But I don’t want to wait around for them to find out the house is empty,” said Greer. “I’m always in favor of an old-fashioned knock on the door. Ninety-nine percent of the time it solves the situation.”

Zander eyed the two deputies in their heavy vests, belts, and coats. A door knock was simple, but it could turn deadly in a split second. The men looked confident, a hint of adrenaline in their eyes. Zander felt it himself. “I’ll grab my vest.” He popped the trunk on his vehicle, stripped off his coat, and strapped on the vest. He grabbed his jacket with FBI emblazoned across the back and put it on over the vest. The evening was approaching, and he didn’t want anyone to arrive at the scene and mistake him for a suspect.

“Daigle and I will do the door knock. I’ll park in his driveway,” Greer said. “You and Edwards cover the back in case we flush him out.” Greer keyed the mic at his shoulder and relayed their plan to dispatch.

Zander and Edwards jogged down the road to get in place behind the rental home before Greer pulled in the driveway. Before they reached the third driveway, they darted off the road and into the firs that filled most of the large lot. The tree branches whistled and swished high over their heads, and the air smelled of wet dirt, that subtle odor of earthy decomposition. They silently hustled between the trunks until they sighted the back door of the home. The door opened onto a small wood deck with three stairs that led to a cleared space behind the home.

“I’ll move to the other side and let Greer know we’re in position,” Edwards said. He jogged off, and Zander stayed in position behind a fir, the door in sight. A sporadic rain of pine needles peppered him, and small branches clattered as they landed on the home’s roof. Somehow this small stretch of homes still had power. He doubted it would last long.

Lights swept over the house and trees as Greer drove up the driveway. Two car doors slammed.

Zander waited, alternating between watching the back door and watching a window on his side of the home. He listened hard, wishing he could hear voices from the front to indicate whether the operation was going smoothly or not. Edwards wasn’t visible, and Zander assumed he was covering the windows on the far side of the home as well as the back door.

Only the wind in the firs and the plinking sounds on the roof were audible.

The back door opened, and Billy Osburne took two running steps across the deck, leaped over the stairs, and made a break for the woods.

“Runner! We’ve got a runner!” Zander sprinted after him.

The ground was rough, and visibility was limited. His chest heaved as he raced as quickly as he could without tripping. He hadn’t seen a weapon in Billy’s hand, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t armed. He kept Billy in his sights, his white T-shirt a blessing in the dim woods. Ahead and to his left, he saw Edwards barreling between tree trunks. The deputy was closer.

Edwards would have notified Greer he was running. They’re probably somewhere behind us.

“Stop! Police!” Edwards shouted.

Billy paid no attention and continued his mad scramble. Zander turned up his momentum, choosing speed over safety, praying he didn’t fall.

Edwards shouted another warning.

Then Zander lost sight of Billy. He pushed forward, not slowing his pace. Ten yards ahead, Edwards rapidly covered ground in the direction where Billy had vanished.

Zander’s toe caught, and he slammed to the ground and tasted dirt. He was instantly back on his feet and scrambled to make up lost time, his hip and ribs aching where they’d landed on a rock or root. He spotted Edwards and accelerated, his breaths loud in his head.

A white blur knocked Edwards out of Zander’s view.

Billy.

He spotted Edwards on his back, Billy on top of him, his fists slamming the deputy in the face. Edwards wheezed and moaned, making no effort to stop the blows.

Got the wind knocked out of him.

Billy yanked on the officer’s weapon, and Zander dived at the man, knocking him off Edwards. Zander landed on top of Billy, slamming his stomach and head to the ground. The air in Billy’s lungs escaped with a deep woof, and he struggled to force Zander off his back.

Zander grabbed his wrist, swung his arm back until it was straight up, and twisted. Billy froze.