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I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “I have to take that chance. I’m not going to stand here doing nothing when my husband has disappeared into thin air. Not when we have that note, and you consider her condition.” I nodded toward Jordan.

“What we should do first,” Keith said, “is tell Jordan we want to see where she found the rabbits. If she takes us there and we see that she buried them, we’ll know she’s telling the truth. We’ll know Patrick is fine.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

SAMANTHA

Keith and Emily left me standing alone as both of them strode over to where Linda was now almost dragging Jordan back to their house.

I heard their voices but couldn’t make out their words. Maybe they didn’t want me to hear. Just as I’d accused Jordan of being unstable, maybe they were now doing the same to me. They might be telling her that I was losing my mind because I was so freaked out that my husband hadn’t been there when I woke that morning. They might be begging her to show compassion, to help me get out of my frantic mindset by taking us to the burial site, even if it was hard for her after such a traumatic experience.

When Jordan shoved her mother’s constantly touching hands off her arms and started walking toward me, I was stunned. Linda looked hurt at the rejection. I wanted to run to her and offer a hug, but my attention was on Jordan. After the way she’d spoken about the rabbits, I would have expected her to say she never wanted to return to that place again, that she couldn’t bear the sadness. Instead, she was walking faster now, as if she couldn’t wait to take us there.

Could her willingness mean Patrick truly had helped, as she’d said? Otherwise, would she be so willing, almost eager to show us the spot?

Jordan was standing so close now, I could smell her breath—something sweet. “Why don’t you believe me?” she whispered.

“I told you, it feels like⁠—”

“You don’t even know me. What right do you have to decide whether I’m telling the truth? Like you’re some kind of judge? You’re so full of yourself.” She breathed her words into my face.

I stepped back, but she moved closer again.

“Why should I show you where they are? I shouldn’t have to. Your disrespect is astounding.”

“I respect you. I just thought your upset over some wild animals was a lot.”

Tears filled her eyes, dripping down onto the streaks that were already there. “They were innocent little rabbits. They wouldn’t hurt a soul.”

“But coyotes are predators, and you can’t help that. It’s just how things are,” I said.

“It was brutal! You weren’t there, so don’t tell me that’s just how it is. How would you like to die that way, when you’ve never hurt another living creature?” She gave me a hard, angry stare. “Or maybe you have hurt living beings.”

“No. I’m sure it was awful. I…” Continuing to tell her how the natural world worked wasn’t going to get her to show me the spot. I needed to calm her down. “I’m really worried about Patrick. If you could just show me the place. Maybe he’s still there or⁠—”

“He left.”

“But he might be nearby.”

“You have a strange relationship if your husband doesn’t even tell you where he’s going.”

Emily and Keith had finished their conversation with Linda and were walking toward us. Trying to explain the nature of my marriage to Jordan was also not going to get me where I wanted to go. We’d wasted so much time already. I needed to see where she’d buried the rabbits and try to figure out where Patrick might have gone. I needed to see if there was a grave at all.

“Let’s go,” Keith said.

“I don’t see why I should. You’re so disrespectful. Calling me a liar.”

“We’re not,” I said.

“I didn’t mean disrespect,” Keith said.

“Fine.” Jordan began walking to the end of the driveway.

I hurried after her. Emily and Keith circled around so one of them was on each side of me. I appreciated their reassuring presence.

Jordan turned onto the street, walking more quickly now. She didn’t check to see if we were following. She walked about two hundred yards to a small dirt road I’d seen but had never tried to maneuver my car onto. It was narrow and overgrown with vines, lined by small trees on both sides. The dirt was packed hard, but when we started walking on it, puffs of dust billowed around our feet.

Jordan continued up a slight rise and down a rather steep dip. She turned off the road onto a path that was barely visible—just worn grasses and what would be considered weeds at home but looked natural and right growing here. Since it didn’t have the appearance of a well-used trail, I wondered if she was the one who had created it, her footsteps the only ones occasionally paving the way. I was losing hope that Patrick would be anywhere in the area. This didn’t look like a known hiking spot, and if he had helped her, he’d probably gone on toward his planned destination.