Page 66 of I’ll Find You

I don’t wait for an answer because I’m already turning. “We need Watson.”

A few minutes later, my parents arrive with Watson. I drop to one knee beside him at the edge of the trail. His head tilts one way, then the other, listening for something no one else can hear. His ears perk up, his tail giving a low, uncertain wag as a soft whine escapes him.

“Hey, buddy,” I murmur, gripping his collar lightly. My hands feel less shaky when I touch him. “Find her,” I say. “Find our Rose.” For a second, he just stands there staring into the forest. His nose is twitching. Then his nose dips. He sniffs once, then again. His whole body goes still, tail stiffening as his focus locks onto something. He pulls forward, hard, lunging sharply toward the trees.

“Okay,” Ezra says under his breath. “He’s got something.” Watson takes off, straight into the trees. He veers off the trail, and I follow, being pulled by him for a change. Branches snap beneath our feet as we push through some brush. We lose the trail almost immediately, but Watson never hesitates, following his instincts.

“Rose!” I shout louder this time. My voice carries through the trees, mocking me. Still no response. Only the sound of Watson ahead of us on his leash. Then he stops abruptly. A sharp bark breaks from him. My chest tightens as I push forward, breaking through the last line of brush, and I see a dog tied to a tree. Its leash is wrapped tight around the trunk as another beagle whines, pacing in a tight circle.

Callie lets out a sharp, horrified breath. “Oh my God…” She trails off. I slowly step closer at what appears to be drag marks. There are too many footprints.

“This shit isn't random,” Ezra says, voicing what I was already thinking, and coming to the same conclusion. Watson pulls again, harder this time. A sharp, urgent sound leaves him now, just as desperate to find her as we are.

He’s leading me further away from the trail and deeper into the woods. I tighten my grip so I don’t lose him. “She’s in danger,” I say. Because now, there’s no doubt left. Nobody just wanders this far off the trail. Someone planned this.

Dad, who has been trailing behind us with Mom, looks toward the dark stretch of woods ahead before his attention comes back to me. I already know what he's going to say. Regardless, I'm going after her whether anyone tries to stop me or not.

“Go,” he says simply.

Mom glances at him with fear clear in her eyes. “Vic⁠—”

He cuts her off. “Watson looks like he’s got something, and they have the best chance of finding her quickly,” he says, already pulling out his phone. “We’ll stay here and see if we find anything else. It’s time to get the police involved.”

Watson barks and pulls hard, lunging forward. The second he picks up the trail, we don’t hesitate. We run. “This way,” I say, already moving. Branches whip past us as we push deeper, the ground sloping unevenly underfoot. The air grows colder, damper. I hear the sound of running water and see…

Movement.

Rose is there, backed up against the rocky embankment. Her chest heaves, clothes soaked through. Her eyes are wide with fear, but she’s alive. Chelsea stands between Rose and the path back to us, calm and eerily composed as she calculates her next move.

Rose glances behind her for only a second, taking in the slick rocks sloping down toward rushing water below. There’s nowhere left for her to go.

“Don't,” Chelsea says softly. The word carries more warning than mercy. Everything feels suspended in time as I watch. Watson gives a sharp, sudden bark, blowing our cover. Chelsea’s attention turns toward the sound, looking toward us hidden in the trees, and that brief distraction is all Rose needs. She moves fast, shoving Chelsea hard with both hands to her chest. Caught off guard, Chelsea stumbles backward. One foot slips on the wet rock near the edge, throwing off her balance.

Her head hits first, making a sick, dull crack against the stone. A wrong angle is all it takes as her body goes limp instantly, folding awkwardly as she tumbles into the shallow water below. The current tugs at her hair. The dark strands drift across her face as the water moves around her.

She’s still. Silence falls over everything as the water continues to rush past her. Watson whines low beside me. I step forward slowly, my pulse hammering in my throat, and my mind still struggles to catch up with what just happened. Rose doesn’t move. She just stares at Chelsea’s body, tense and frozen to the spot, waiting for the moment every horror movie warns you about—the killer suddenly gasping for breath and coming back to life the second someone lets their guard down.

Ezra exhales beside me, shaking his head as he takes it all in. “Well,” he mutters after a moment, cutting through the silence, “that was…anticlimactic.” No one responds. He glances at me, then back at Chelsea’s body. “All that build up,” he adds, almost under his breath, “and she doesn’t even get a decent villain’s death.”

Callie lets out a shaky breath that almost turns into a laugh before she clamps it down.

Rose finally blinks, just coming back to herself. “I didn’t—” Her voice breaks. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn't have a choice,” I say, stepping closer to her and pulling her into an embrace. She’s cold. God, I have to get her out of here. The water keeps moving around Chelsea, washing over the rock and the blood that stains it.

A few minutes later, the sound of sirens reaches us through the trees. It starts faint and distant, growing louder as flashing red and blue lights streak though the darkness at the trail’s entrance. The once-quiet woods transform as the sound of car doors slamming, followed by crackling radios. Flashlights beam through the thicket as officers move carefully through the forest toward us.

“Over here,” I say loud enough for them to hear me.

Someone pulls Ezra and Callie back while another officer heads toward Chelsea’s body near the riverbank. Watson moves closer, nuzzling against my leg and whining softly.

Rose still hasn’t let go of me. She’s shaking in my arms, soaked through and ice cold, her fingers clutching the front of my jacket, afraid something will pull her away again if she loosens her grip. I hold her back, just as tightly, and I’m never letting her go again. Mom’s beside us immediately with a calm voice as she brushes wet hair away from Rose’s face. Dad speaks with one of the deputies a few feet away with a tight expression. Everything around us blurs together after that. But through all of it, one thing stays painfully clear in my mind. She’s alive. I found her.

Epilogue

Rose

Spring didn’t arrive until almost May. It never comes all at once in New England. The snow melted slowly, clinging to shaded patches long after it should have, until the last traces finally disappeared. The ground softened as the cold air lost its bite, one beautiful sunrise at a time. Nature was beginning again. And somehow, so were we.