Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up in bed. A cool breeze pulled the curtains against the window screen. Light from the moon cut across the floor and the far wall. She could hear her father snoring in the room next door, the sound comforting. She had been dreaming. It was only a dream. But it wasn’t.

She leaned back against the pillow, too afraid to close her eyes, fearing the images that swam behind them in the dark. She wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight. Willow’s branches scratched against the side of the cabin, beckoning her to come out and play.

She tossed the covers aside. After making sure her bedroom door was closed tight, she lifted the screen and climbed out. She crawled into the crook of the trunk between two big branches about a third of the way up the tree. It was big enough for her to fit comfortably, stretching her legs on the thick branch in front of her and maintaining her balance in the pocket. It was better than any deer stand that had been constructed in the woods on the other side of the colony in the open field far from the cabins.

In summers past she and Megan, the twins, and Adam would hike to the field and play games in the deer stands. They’d use sticks for guns and knives, pretend to track animals, play King of the Mountain. Other times they’d hike farther into the woods where a tree had fallen across the creek that fed the lake. They’d swing on vines, balance on the fallen tree, and hang out far away from the jeering of Johnny and Chris’s gang and where the grown-ups could never find them. They’d catch crawfish and salamanders and frogs. They’d make mud pies and build stick huts.

Caroline wished they were doing those things again this summer. What she wouldn’t give to go back to the way things were between her and Megan, before Megan went all girly and goofy over boys.

She thought about Chris and felt funny inside, warm and icky at the same time. The way he looked at her when she caught the line drive down the third baseline made her heart flutter. It was as though he were seeing her for the first time, and it made her cheeks burn.

She willed herself to think of something else and pulled her legs to her chest, resting her chin on top of her knees. The willow’s long fingerlike branches rocked in the breeze. The leaves rustled softly, gently lulling her. She leaned back against the trunk. Her thoughts settled. Her eyelids grew heavy. She fought to keep them open for a moment or two before giving in. What could it hurt to rest her eyes for a few minutes?

She was unaware of time passing. The wind picked up and the swinging branches roused her. She wondered how long she was asleep when she heard the sound of footsteps.

Who’s there? she asked.

A twig snapped.

Hello? she said, squinting into the shadows below.

A little girl appeared underneath the tree. She was wearing the same yellow-and-pink polka dot bathing suit as Sara had worn that day on the beach. Water dripped from her braids down the front of her chest. Bits and pieces of her arms and legs were missing as though someone had taken an eraser to her limbs. Sara?

Caroline rubbed her eyes. She must be dreaming. Her spine pressed into the cold hard trunk. Her right leg tingled from sleep. The wind blew her hair across her face, the strands sticking to her lips. She swiped them away from her mouth.

What are you doing here? Everyone is looking for you.

Don’t let them find me, Sara said in a whispery voice that seemed to blow with the wind.

Who don’t you want to find you?

I want my mommy.

Caroline’s body shivered from the breeze. She was confused. Was she dreaming? Wake up, she told herself. You need to wake up.

Sara, she said, hearing her voice inside her chest just before she felt herself falling, the kind of falling that happens in dreams. She hit the ground with a thud. The air in her chest burst from her lungs in a whoosh.

When she opened her eyes, her arms were splayed in front of her. Her left cheek was pressed in the dirt. Her legs were spread wide. Leaves and twigs stuck to her skin. She sat up, feeling dizzy. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her chest constricted. She sucked in, once, twice, and finally, finally, her chest opened and her lungs filled with air.

She looked up at Willow. She had never fallen from the tree before. She had never had the wind knocked out of her. Slowly, she stood and rubbed her sore shoulder before brushing off the debris from her hands and knees. The hem of her nightgown was torn and hanging on the ground.

It was almost dawn. The leaves were covered in dew. She had been in the tree for longer than she had thought. She slipped back through the window, pulled her nightgown over her head, and shoved it into the back of a drawer. Trembling, she put on a T-shirt and shorts and crawled into bed. It wasn’t until she was buried under the covers that she curled into a ball and thought about what she had seen and heard in her dream. It had felt so real. The fall had been real. Her torn nightgown and aching shoulder were proof.

She was scared, but she couldn’t tell Gram or her parents what had happened. They would be angry with her for crawling out of the window in the first place. They would say she was stupid for falling asleep in a tree. And what if her father insisted on fixing the screen? Or worse, what if he forbid her to ever climb the tree again?

And even though she was frightened, her mind raced ahead, turning over the dream and what Sara had said. She couldn’t let Stimpy and his men follow the snappers and do to Sara what they had done to the eel.

She closed her eyes. Somehow, someway she’d help Sara find her mommy. And maybe in the process, Caroline would find her mother too.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The lake turned into a spectacle of rowboats, motorboats, and canoes. Every local fisherman and their kin were out on the water. Stimpy and his men must’ve trapped two dozen or more of the turtles overnight. It was the only sense Kevin could make of the scene.

Day four of the drowned little girl, and all that remained of the original recovery team was the single watercraft and three crew members. The rest of the team was called to another location in the Poconos, another tragedy, this one occurring along the Delaware River. It had been all over the eleven-o’clock news. A couple of teenagers had been tubing down the Delaware when one of them got sucked under by the current. Kevin had been watching TV with Gram in the cramped living room. Jo had already gone to bed. It had been an early night for everyone after the drama on the beach with the fishermen and the eel.

The word at the lake was that the underwater recovery unit from the next county over would’ve pitched in and covered the Delaware River drowning, but they were tied up in another recovery farther north.

Welcome to summer in the Poconos, Kevin thought, where the water was refreshing and cool—and deadly. He shoved his hands into his pockets. He was standing on the dock next to the parking lot for a little more than half an hour. The sun burned the tops of his feet and the tips of his ears. Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades. His T-shirt was moist and sticky.

The lake water rocked with chaos. The ducks honked their grievances. Men shouted when they felt sure they had found something. Stimpy and his crew scrambled from fishing boat to fishing boat, pulling up drudge and carrion off the bottom, but nothing of the little girl was recovered. It was midafternoon, and they had been at it for several hours. All the while, the underwater recovery team went about their search methodically, professionally.

The Pavilion doors were flung open. Songs played on the jukebox, and bells rang from pinball machines. Two or three families sat on the beach and played in the sand with their young children. The floating pier was surrounded by boats rather than teenagers. The diving boards were empty. And yet, the strangest part was that on a day as hot as today, not one person entered the water. Heil could open the beach, but he couldn’t force people to swim.