"No. Just that they were in the woods," Lindsay said.

"I'd tell you not to do anything stupid, but it sounds like I'm too late for that," Warren said somewhat testily. "So just be careful, okay? I'll tell the cops down there that you're on your way. If you're heading to that area, you'll probably run into the guys out looking for them anyway. Link up with them, okay? Don't try to do this on your own."

"I love you," Lindsay blurted out. She had no idea where the words had come from.

There was a long pause before Warren replied. "Be safe."

Lindsay hung up and stared at the phone for a second, mouthing his words back to herself. Be safe? She realized that part of why she'd said what she'd said was that she wanted to hear the words reflected back to her right then. She was scared and worried, afraid for Owen and Jess, afraid that she and Mike might get themselves in over their heads. When they were dating, she rarely told Warren she loved him, but she'd reached out now. Sure, they were just words, but those words were extraordinarily comforting to say and to hear. Be safe? That had been his response to her declaration of love. Were they always doomed to do this reverse polarity dance of reaching out and pulling away at all the wrong times? She angrily pocketed her phone. There was no time to think about her relationship with Warren; she had to focus on helping Mike find Owen and Jess.

She looked at the little blue dot moving across the screen of the GPS, trying to get her bearings. The GPS indicated that they were racing along Route 211. She'd studied the Google Map image of this area a dozen times, trying to match the terrain to the historical area that had been known as the Burnt Island. The whole region was populated with names that referenced that time-Burnt Swamp School, Burnt Island Tires and Brakes. Some of these stood in areas that the Lowrie band would've recognized, but in this ever-shifting lowland landscape, who could say where the old Burnt Island began and ended anymore? Very few of the old structures remained. Poverty, hurricanes, and the ravages of the warm, damp climate ensured a constant battle against decay.

"The cross!" Lindsay suddenly yelled. "Turn left!"

Without hesitation, Mike followed her direction. He only asked why after they'd turned onto Old Whiteville Road.

"There's a big church on this road. I've seen it on Street View. You'll see it in a second. Oh my G.o.d, why didn't I think of it sooner?" Lindsay said. She was already texting Warren to let him know about her hunch. She wasn't yet certain enough to call the Sheriff and redirect the search efforts-after all, the authorities were basing their search on cell phone triangulation. Real data. All she had was the seed of an idea. Still, she asked Warren to let the Robeson County searchers know what she and Mike were up to. The idea of being shot in the woods like a deer was still very much at the forefront of her mind.

Mike pulled into the parking lot of the Antioch Baptist Church, a complex of red brick structures that stood on a lonely stretch of road across from dense forestland. "The cross," he whispered. They emerged from the car, their backs facing the church. Sure enough, across the street from the church stood a 10-foot tall white cross on a U-shaped patch of gra.s.s carved out from the surrounding forest.

"This church building is fairly new, but this congregation dates back to the 1800's," Lindsay said. "It was originally called Burnt Islands Baptist Church."

"Do you think this could be the place?" Mike asked. "X marks the spot?"

"I really don't know. But I think it's worth a look, don't you?"

They circled the large church building first, trying doors and peering in windows, looking for any trace that would suggest anyone was inside. The interior, though, was pitch-black, other than the glow from the illuminated EXIT signs. They could see nothing to suggest that the teenagers had been there.

They walked across the street, towards the cross. It was now nearly 1:30 in the morning. The air was thick with moisture, and mist clung to the trees like cobwebs. Though the low clouds blocked out the moon and stars, they reflected the terrestrial lights and made the wide expanse of the church parking lot abnormally bright. Still, as they approached the woods' edge, they could see that the light would quickly disappear if they entered the forest.

They pa.s.sed under the outstretched arms of the cross, looking along the ground for any signs that Owen and Jess had been there recently. Lindsay leaned on the cross, momentarily resting her weight against it.

"Owen said something about needing to hide. How will we find them if they're hiding in there?" she wondered aloud.

No sooner had she given voice to those words than the regular pattern of nighttime forest sounds-croaks and creeps and chirrups-was disturbed by the sudden noise of a flock of birds alighting from their roost deeper within the forest. The tiny birds irately chirped their distress as they swept out into the air over Mike and Lindsay's heads. They circled the high steeple of the Antioch Baptist Church before diving back into the canopy.

Lindsay turned to Mike. "I'm not really one for signs from heaven, but I'm also not one to stand around and wait for G.o.d to drop a big, flashing neon arrow out of the sky."

They strapped on their headlamps. Mike slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and began to move quickly ahead.

"Mike!" Lindsay called. "Slow down and look where you're going, okay? Do you think the snake that bit Jess is the only nasty thing out here?"

The role of the prudent protector was an unaccustomed one for Lindsay. Usually, she was the one running headlong into danger, heedless of risk, while her father or Warren cautioned her to look before she leapt. An old thought returned, one she'd had before, when she first met Mike. If the two of them ever got together, which one would be the grown-up?

She followed along after Mike, picking her way over tree roots and underbrush. Despite her warning, he'd barely slackened his pace, instead crashing ahead like he was being chased by a grizzly. They couldn't have penetrated more than a half a mile into the forest, but it felt like they'd traveled to another world. The land was almost completely flat; the trees close-packed and interspersed with an understory of bushes, fallen branches, and scrubby pines. Even in the dark, Lindsay could sense slight differences from her own familiar forest in the Piedmont. Although pine trees were plentiful here, even the smell was not quite the same as the fragrant pine forests that surrounded Mount Moriah. It was spring, but the air around her had a murky, earthy smell, like an unventilated bas.e.m.e.nt.

Mike had now moved out of her range of vision. She was alone. Although she often ran on forest trails during the daytime, staggering through the woods in the darkness was an entirely different proposition. There was no discernable trail, meaning that every step required an unaccustomed degree of thinking and planning. These nighttime woods felt looming and oppressive, like a vast ocean that might sweep in and drown her. She suddenly became aware that if her headlamp went out, she'd be able to see nothing at all. Nothing except the shadowy visions conjured up in her imagination.

Lindsay stopped walking, out of a mix of caution and tingling fear. Pausing allowed her to take stock of her surroundings. Although she'd initially been glad that she was wearing running clothes that allowed for easy movement, she was beginning to wish she'd dressed more appropriately for the terrain. Her running shoes and leggings were spattered with sandy mud and soaked through, and her thin running vest wasn't doing much to ward off the chilly evening air. She heard rustling in the trees overheard and looked up, but she could see nothing beyond the halo of light given off by her headlamp. Still, she felt certain that the birds had alighted from and returned to a spot somewhere near where she stood. She turned off her headlamp, closed her eyes and listened. There was no sound except the rustle of the birds overhead and the rhythmic vibrations of insects.

She leaned against a tree, took her phone out of her pocket and checked the signal. One feeble little bar of service. On a whim, she tried calling Owen, but the line wouldn't connect. She typed out a text telling him she and Mike were in the forest and pressed Send. It seemed to go through. It was a long shot, but often a text could be transmitted when a call wouldn't go through. She felt she had to try. Next, she dialed Mike and then Warren, but faced similar disappointment with the lack of connection. This whole thing was ridiculous. How was stumbling around blindly in the woods going to help? They still didn't really know what had happened with Jess and Owen. Had they been kidnapped or were they just lost? And what would happen if she and Mike got lost? They'd be diverting police resources away from the search for Jess and Owen. Although she'd been stealing glances at the compa.s.s app on her phone as they went and still felt confident that she could find her way back to the road, she couldn't guarantee that she'd be able to keep her bearings if she went any deeper into the woods. She turned around. It was time to put an end to this.

Suddenly, the sky almost directly over her head exploded in a burst of orange light. The flare from Mike's emergency pack. The deciduous trees weren't yet in full leaf, so it was possible to make out a bit of the arc of smoke the flare had given off before it exploded. Lindsay hurried in that direction, calling out Mike's name. She'd gone only a few yards before she heard her own name being called.

"Lindsay! I found them!" She could see the light of Mike's headlamp bouncing through the trees as he rushed out to meet her. He caught her up in his arms and buried his face in her hair. "They're alive, but Jess is in bad shape."

He took her hand, half dragging her along. To speed her up, he hooked her arm over his shoulder and wound his arm around her waist, which, due to their height difference, allowed her to propel herself along as if she were in a three-legged race.

Mike began speaking quickly, in something akin to his usual mile-a-minute style. "Somehow I knew where they'd be. Like, I felt it. Maybe it was the birds. Maybe it was G.o.d. You'll probably think this is crazy, but I was praying to Saint Anthony. He's the patron saint of lost things, and Drew and I were raised Catholic. Our mom was big on saints. Monica, if somebody was having marital problems. Francis, if the dog got sick. That kind of thing. Anyway, I just started calling out and they were right in front of me. Jess has been bitten by a snake. I think she's in shock. But they're alive."

They came to a large tulip poplar. Jess lay against the trunk, with Owen crouched over her. As Lindsay got closer, she could see that he had opened the first aid kit Mike brought and was rummaging through the contents.

Owen looked up at them, his face streaked with dirt. He seemed to be on the verge of tears. "I don't know how to help her."

Lindsay crouched down next to him and put her hand on his back. She smiled rea.s.suringly.

"Jess, honey, can you hear us?" Lindsay asked, gently stroking the girl's silken cheek. Her fingers trailed down to Jess's neck, where she could feel a weak but steady pulse.

Even in the yellowish light of Lindsay's headlamp, Jess looked ghastly pale. Her eyes were closed, and her breath was rapid and shallow. Her eyelids fluttered briefly at the sound of Lindsay's voice, but she didn't seem able to respond. Lindsay had taken the basic first aid and CPR training that was free to all hospital employees each year, but she, like Owen, wasn't entirely sure about the correct treatment for a snake bite. Owen had already removed the mud-covered ballet-style shoe from Jess's grotesquely-swollen foot, and rolled up the ankle of her pants. Lindsay shined the light from her headlamp on Jess's ankle. There were two clearly-defined puncture wounds surrounded by a sickening crimson and purple bruise. Large, pus-filled blisters were rising along the edges of the colored area. The whole area was spattered with mud, increasing the wound's grotesque appearance.

"Oh my G.o.d," Mike whispered, covering his mouth with his hand. "Do you have an idea what kind of snake it was?"

Owen shook his head. "We didn't see it. She just stepped on a pile of leaves when we were running and felt something bite her. She kept going for a while, but then she fell behind. I lost her for a few minutes in the dark and when I backtracked I found her like this."

"Probably a coral snake," Lindsay guessed. "I think that kind of venom can take awhile to kick in." She had a vague recollection that a bite victim should be kept still as much as possible to prevent the venom from travelling through the body and causing shock. Well, too late for that, she thought grimly. She looked more closely at Jess's ankle. The swollen flesh was being compressed by the tight hem of the girl's blue, metallic cigarette pants. Lindsay's mind flashed back to her experience with her engagement ring.

"Do y'all have anything sharp?" she asked. "I think we should cut the bottom of her jeans; they're cutting off her circulation."

Mike produced a Swiss Army knife from his pocket, and Lindsay began carefully cutting away the fabric from the bottom of Jess's leg. As she worked, she glanced at Owen and asked. "What happened? How did you end up out here?"

"I was on my way to the hotel in Raleigh to pick her up, but I got a text saying to meet her in an alley near the hotel instead. I thought she was just trying to save me from having to park and come in, so I didn't think anything was weird. But when I got to the place, she stepped out of the shadows with Adam Tyrell, that guy who drugged you."

"What?!" Lindsay and Mike said in unison. Lindsay almost let the knife slip. She took a deep breath and tried to keep her hands from shaking.

"He was kind of disguised, like with a hat and gla.s.ses, but I recognized him from the news and stuff. Jess said he had a gun and we needed to do what he told us. He told Jess to tie me up with duct tape. She kept crying while she was doing it and saying she was sorry. Then they put me in the trunk of my car and we drove for what seemed like a really long time. The next thing I knew, Jess was letting me out of the trunk and telling me we had to run and hide."

"But why would he kidnap you? I don't understand the connection," Lindsay said.

"I don't know, either," Owen replied. "There wasn't any time to talk. I don't understand it at all. I thought I was going to give Jess a ride home from Raleigh, and next thing I know, I'm running through the woods escaping from some psycho. I don't know how Adam found Jess or how she escaped. We just ran into the woods, and then she got bitten, and we ran a little while longer, and then she collapsed. I carried her as far as I could."

"It's okay. You did all the right things. You're alive, and that's all that matters right now," Mike said, putting his hand on Owen's shoulder.

"Oh G.o.d," Lindsay said. "Whose phone did you call from before?"

"I don't know," Owen replied. "Adam took my phone when they tied me up. I found this one in Jess's pocket after she fainted. It's not hers, so I guess it's Adam's."

"That's why I recognized the number. It's the one he called me from. I even wrote it down, but I still didn't recognize it," Lindsay said. Her mind was racing. Adam had kidnapped them. All along, it had been Adam! If she'd just been paying closer attention, she could've recognized the number, and told Warren about Adam's involvement while they still had phone service.

Up until that point, Mike had been pacing back and forth in a tight circuit, but now he stopped in his tracks. "We're going to have to carry her out of here. Somebody might've seen that flare. Maybe the police, but maybe not. I don't think we can wait. She really doesn't look good. And if the police didn't see it and Adam did... Either way, we can't stick around."

"Do you know the way back?" Owen said. "I didn't pay attention."

Mike's eyes widened in panic. "No. Oh my G.o.d. No."

"It's okay," Lindsay said. "I can find it. You two lift her and I'll lead the way."

They hurriedly packed up the first aid supplies. Mike took hold of Jess under her armpits and Owen stood between her legs and lifted her under her knees.

"On the count of three," Lindsay said, "One, two, three."

As they hefted Jess into the air, she gave a moan of pain and her eyes opened momentarily. "Don't let him take it," she said.

"Do you mean Adam? What's he trying to take?" Lindsay asked, but Jess had already slipped back into unconsciousness.

Chapter 23.

Although Jess's unconscious body was a dead weight, Owen and Mike were strong enough to move quickly through the forest. They moved so quickly, in fact, that Lindsay could hardly keep pace. Adrenaline spurred them ahead. Lindsay reckoned that it was less than a mile from the tree where they'd found the teenagers back to the church. Every few dozen yards, she checked her phone to be sure they were headed in the right direction. Luckily, the app continued to work despite there still being no signal for calling or texting. They'd been traveling for about 10 minutes when Lindsay finally saw two bars of service appear in the top corner of her phone's screen.

"I've got a cell signal," she said triumphantly.

She began to dial 9-1-1 as she continued to walk. Before she knew what was happening, her foot caught on a fallen branch and she found herself sprawled face down on the damp ground at the base of a tree. She rolled onto her back, clutching her knee to her chest. She had torn the meniscus in that knee the previous summer, and the hard blow immediately aggravated the underlying injury. She clutched her knee and gritted her teeth, trying not to cry.

Owen and Mike quickly laid Jess down and hurried over to Lindsay.

"Are you okay?" Mike said, lifting her into a half-sitting position.

Lindsay ignored the question. The wind had been knocked out of her and she struggled for breath. "My phone," she gasped. "The call was connecting."

Owen lifted it from the mud where it had fallen. "h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo? This is Owen Checkoway. I'm in the woods, and I'm with Jess Philpot and Mike Checkoway and Lindsay Harding." He paused, listening to something the dispatcher said. "Actually, I don't know where I am. Hold on." He handed the phone to his father.

"Yes, this is Mike Checkoway. We're in the woods, making our way toward Antioch Baptist Church on Old Whiteville Road. Jess has been bitten by a snake; we think a coral snake. They were kidnapped by Adam Tyrell. h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo?" He looked at the phone's screen. "d.a.m.n."

"Do you think she heard what you said?" Owen asked.

"I hope so."

Owen looked at Adam's phone. "The battery's gone on this one. I was using it as a flashlight before when I was trying to help Jess."

Mike looked at his own phone. "Nothing. Let me see if I can put it on roaming. Maybe I can pick up another network."

From her place on the ground, Lindsay could see that Jess's lips had started to take on a bluish tinge. Her closed eyelids looked shiny and swollen. "There's no time," Lindsay said, her voice tight with tension and pain. "Just take her and get to the road as fast as you can. Take my phone. Keep going north and east and you'll hit the road. It's gotta be only another ten minutes or so."

"We're not leaving you out here by yourself," Mike said, pushing a stray curl out of Lindsay's eyes.

"You have to. I'll slow you down."

"But you might get lost without the compa.s.s."

"I won't get lost because I'm going to stay right here. When you get to civilization, tell them I'm about a quarter mile from the road, southwest from the cross. They shouldn't have any trouble finding me. I'll be listening out for them. Go!"

"I'll carry you and Owen can carry Jess," Mike said.

"That's crazy," Lindsay said. "She's in bad shape. She could die if you don't hurry. I'm fine."

While they were speaking Owen had already pulled a granola bar and a little foil pouch of water from the duffel bag and put them down next to Lindsay. "She's right, Dad," he said. "The longer Jess is out here, the worse it's going to be for her."

"Here, take my phone then," Mike said.

"And take this, too." Owen pulled a handgun from his pocket. Lindsay and Mike both recoiled from it, startled.

"Where did you get that?" Mike asked.

"Jess had it tucked into her waistband," Owen replied. "She must've taken it from Adam."

"I don't want it," Lindsay said. "I'd probably end up shooting my foot off. You two keep it."

"Take it for protection," Mike urged. "What if Adam's out here? Owen and I have each other for protection."

"No, I don't want to hold a gun ever again." Lindsay thought back to her conversation with Rob. She'd turned it over in her mind a hundred times since then. Maybe G.o.d had spared Swoopes's life for her sake. Or maybe she was just a terrible shot. Either way, she realized that guns just weren't something she wanted in her life. "I couldn't shoot somebody just to save myself. I couldn't live with the guilt if I did."

"When we get back, I'm going to buy you a Taser, okay?" Mike said, with a half-smile. He squeezed her shoulders and kissed her gently on the top of her head. "You look really beautiful when you're being stupidly idealistic."

"Dad, we've got to go," Owen said.

Mike nodded and carefully eased Lindsay into a more comfortable sitting position. He took off his jacket, put it over her shoulders, and then rose to his feet. He and Owen lifted Jess from the ground and, with only a quick backwards glance, headed off through the forest. Lindsay listened for a few moments until the sounds of their footsteps faded and she was alone. Again, the beam of her headlamp revealed nothing but the tangled forest. She scooted to a drier patch of ground, mindful of places where snakes might be hiding, and took a deep breath. The fall had left her shaken, but when she pulled up her leggings to examine her knee, she was relieved to see that it wasn't in as bad a condition as she feared. She flexed and relaxed it a few times and found that the initial, excruciating pain had subsided.

Looking around the dark forest, she wondered if she'd made a mistake by not going with Owen and Mike. Maybe if she hurried, she could still catch up with them. Instead, she twisted open the little plastic spout on the pouch of water Owen had left for her and drank it down in one big gulp. She then proceeded to work her way through the granola bar. She hadn't eaten anything since lunch and was suddenly starving. When she finished, she pocketed the trash and she hugged her knees to her chest. Mike's jacket was so large on her tiny frame that she was able to zip her whole huddled body inside it. She kept the beam of her headlamp on and ducked her head inside the jacket. It illuminated the s.p.a.ce-her own little flashlight in her own little tent.

In the stillness, Lindsay fought the urge to bargain with G.o.d. It was something she'd seen so many times with her patients. Christian, Muslim, Jewish-it didn't matter. The instinct was universal. When people were frightened, they'd propose all sorts of deals to their Maker. If you just let me live, I'll be a better person. If I just get out of this okay, I'll go to church every week. She didn't want to engage in that. Instead, she took deep breaths, inhaling the damp scent of the springtime forest-simultaneously decaying and regenerating. She just had to trust. Mike's rash plane journey, a giant roadside cross, a flock of shrieking birds, and a desperate prayer to Saint Anthony had led them to Owen and Jess. If that all happened according to some divine plan, then G.o.d certainly had a whimsical streak, not to mention a pretty warped sense of humor.

She heard a nearby rustling that sounded like footsteps. She popped her head out of her coat tent and listened carefully. Nothing could be heard but the sound of her own shallow breathing. It was so easy to get lost in s.p.a.ce and time out in a place like this. There was nothing around her to mark the location, no hint of modernity.

In the gloom, she could almost see the events of the previous century play out before her. She could envision the fateful night of the big heist. The Lowrie gang gathered around a campfire in the murky depths of the forest. After years of abuse and persecution, after the terrible years spent enduring the deprivations of the war and its aftermath, they'd pulled off a major coup against the county's elite. All eyes would be on the quietly charismatic Henry Berry, his young deputy, Boss, at his side. Although they were all young men, they'd be careworn from their years as outlaws, unshaven and poorly-clad. The men would be celebrating their clever victory, counting their treasure, making plans for Henry Berry's escape from the lawmen that so relentlessly pursued him. She pictured Donahue McQueen-the red-headed, half-Scottish Lumbee who never quite fit in-hiding nearby, preparing his ambush.

"Who's there?" she heard a familiar voice, very close by.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she scrambled up to a standing position. She reached up to shut off the light and ducked behind a tree, trying to decide if she should run or scream.

The beam of a flashlight raked over her body. "Lindsay? Oh my G.o.d. What are you doing out here? Are you okay?"

Although she couldn't clearly see who was speaking to her, she recognized the voice immediately. Adam Tyrell was directly in front of her, not ten yards from where she stood.

She decided it was no use trying to escape. Even without her injury, she was utterly exhausted. The tank of adrenaline that had been keeping her moving all night was down to fumes. "Adam," she said simply. She was surprised at the evenness of her own voice. It was almost as if she was now too tired to be scared anymore.