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Of course. The grass was thick enough that it showed very little.

Dad moved in a widening circle.

Riot went the other way.

Chief still watched the trees.

I watched him.

He looked like a statue. Bare shoulders. Gun held low at his side. Head tilted slightly.

Listening. The image made something cold crawl through me.

“Declan.”

His head turned immediately. Old reflex.

My name was all over his face even before he spoke.

“What?”

“Come back.” It slipped out. I hadn’t planned it.

Something changed in his expression. Then he came. No question. No hesitation.

He crossed the grass toward me.

Clayton looked between us but said nothing.

Chief stopped a few feet away. Close enough. Not touching. Never touching.

My heart hurt anyway.

Dad and Riot stayed near the woods another ten minutes.

They found nothing. No tracks they trusted. No torn grass. No damaged fence. No open gate.

No evidence anyone had crossed through.

Nothing. Again.

Dad finally came back with my phone. He held it out.

I didn’t take it. I stared at it.

“What?”

“There’s nothing on it,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“No damage. Still locked. Battery’s at sixty-two percent.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Dad waited.

I couldn’t explain. I shook my head. It looked normal. That bothered me. A phone carried from my bedroom to the edge of the woods in the middle of the night should have looked different.