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That night, 4:36 a.m.

“There’s someone in the cave,” Dave says flatly.

Emmy stands and instinctively walks away from Cassie’s body, toward the dark cavity at the base of the bluff. Her fingers graze her service weapon. For a moment, everyone remains still, even Sofía, her arm poised beneath Cassie’s neck. They all stare at the pit of blackness, wasting precious time. Still, no one moves. They all sense it. Fear it. The presence of another person.

Suddenly, someone charges out of the dark, knocking Emmy over and darting across the boulder to the coast behind. Rocks clack against each other, followed by the sound of someone crashing against the ground and bounding back up as the person runs toward the beach.

Emmy breathes into the pain where her hip pounded the rocks.

“Jesus, who was that?” the plastic surgeon says.

“They’re getting away,” the GI shouts.

Dave bounds up like he might chase after the person, then freezes when Emmy shouts to him, “Don’t.”

“Are you okay?” Sofía calls over to Emmy.

“Fine,” Emmy says as the plastic surgeon—she still doesn’t know his name—helps her stand. Her hip throbs. She’ll likely have a nasty bruise, but nothing’s broken.

“Em?” someone shouts. “Emmy, you there?”

“We’re here,” she shouts to Sam, who appears on the boulder, the board tucked under his arm.

“Did you see that man run by? Nearly bowled me over.”

“He was hiding in the cave,” the GI says.

“You need to find him,” Dave shouts. “He might have—he could have hurt—” His voice cracks, and he cannot finish his sentence.

Emmy ignores him and reaches for one end of the board. She helps Sam set it beside Cassie’s body.

“What are you doing? Go after him!” Dave screams.

“Sir, our priority right now is getting your wife breathing and out of the water. Once she’s safe, we’ll see about the man in the cave.”

“But he’s getting away,” Dave wails.

“Ready on your call,” Emmy says, wincing as she squats down beside Sofía to get her hands under Cassie’s shoulders. An icy wave crashes against her back. She doesn’t feel it any more than Cassie likely does.

“You’re letting him get away.”

Sam stands as if to heed Dave’s words, but Emmy stops him.

“No,” she says. She’s the cop, not him. The one with the badge. And the gun. “I’ll deal with it later.”

It’s protocol: tend to the injured before chasing the perpetrator. Emmy shivers with the realization that if they were hiding, if they ran away with such haste, they must have been involved in Cassie’s fall.

Sofía stops Emmy as she begins to squat down again. “There are plenty of people here who can help.”

Sam’s floodlight illuminates their faces, and Emmy stares at Sofía, the two women communing without words. Emmy is in charge. Sofía’s patience confirms this, particularly considering she has no time to waste.

“Go,” Sam urges her.

Without another moment’s delay, Emmy takes off over the wet, uneven rocks to find the man who may know what happened to Cassie. The man who may have caused her to fall.