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Across the parking lot Ashley shakes hands with the paramedic who first arrived on scene, before moving toward them. She wipes a hand across her forehead, huffing a sigh.

“As fucked up as this night was, it was also oddly exhilarating,” she says by way of greeting.

She turns to look at the county coroner’s vehicle, where four zipped-up black bags now sit inside, stacked one on top of the other. “I just wanted to say goodbye before I leave with Evan,” she tells them. “Also to say that Jane talked to Jackson. We’re all in agreement about what happened here tonight.”

Kimi shakes her head thoughtfully. “The people on this mountain love a good story. I honestly don’t know what they’ll believe.”

“I’m sure as hell not sticking around to find out,” says Ashley, glancing out at the swarm of officials snapping photos of various patches of blood. “Well.” She glances between Thomas and Kimi, eyes watering slightly. “Happy Thanksgiving,” she tells them.

“The happiest,” Kimi agrees.

As the woman walks across the lot toward a police officer holding open the passenger door to his cruiser, Thomas calls out her name.

When she turns, he offers a small smile. “My money’s on New Year’s,” he says, nodding at her stomach.

Ashley’s face hardens slightly, and she returns a tired wave before slipping inside the car. The siren chirps once before the cruiser makes a wide right turn. They watch the car start on its bumpy path down the access road, until it disappears amongst the trees.

“What about you, Thomas?” Kimi asks. “What will you do now?”

It’s not the first time he’s been asked this question, though it might be the first time he’s heard it. He stretches out his right arm, stiff and aching from the sudden overuse.

“I have no idea,” he says beneath Kimi’s intense gaze. “Right now, I think I’ll just go find my sister.”

—

Jane follows alongside the gurney, listening as the paramedic tells her what hospital they’ll be going to.

“And you’re sure he’s going to be alright?” she asks, for at least the fifth time in the past twenty minutes.

“If I say yes, is there any chance you’ll believe me?” Jackson offers from where he lies on the gurney. His head is wrapped up with a thick white bandage covering the first gash in the back from Jim’s gun, along with the new split down the front from when his Jeep flipped.

“He’s in good hands, ma’am,” the paramedic answers.

Jackson squints at the name tag on the man’s uniform for a few seconds too long. “Could you give us a quick minute, please?”

The paramedic looks between him and Jane, then glances around at the swirl of other passing emergency responders. “Just a minute,” he tells them before stepping back a few feet to give them privacy.

Jackson looks up at Jane with tired eyes. “I’m starting to think you’re worried about me,” he says.

She thinks of him crawling out from the upside-down Jeep, coughing against the billowing smoke and fire that used to be Jim’s truck. He had barely been conscious as she and Thomas hauled him away from all the combustible engines, trying to hold their breath against the smoke and fleeing for the coverage of the store for an entirely different refuge.

“I figured you would have discovered by now that I tend to always be worried,” she says, smiling slightly.

His laugh quickly dissolves into a cough. “You always care, Jane,” he says, clearing his throat. “There’s a big difference.”

She doesn’t try to hide the heat rising to her cheeks. “Your brother is going to come pick up Winnie from us once everything at the hospital is settled,” she tells him, and at the sound of her name, the German shepherd jumps up from the ground. Winnie leans forward, trying again to lick at Jackson’s bandages.

His grin grows, revealing his dimple, and Jane wonders how she didn’t realize it before when the Mimic was pretending to be him—you cannot replicate a smile like this.

“I’ll take care of her,” she promises, then before her brain can process the movements, she grabs his hand and squeezes it.

Her body remains steady as the paramedic wheels him away toward an ambulance, where he is loaded inside. Winnie’s barks turn into a string of high-pitched whines as the doors slam shut.

“Come on, girl,” Jane says, coaxing the dog toward the store.

She plops to the ground in the destroyed entryway, wrapping the blanket the paramedics gave her tighter around her shoulders. Winnie follows, resting her head across Jane’s lap.

The cold air has a bite to it this early, causing Jane’s breath to puff out in clouds in front of her. Still, it feels good to be outside—to see that, even though shadows sprawl from the edges of the forest, dawn is quietly smothering them.