107

Asher

The lake is frozen solid, blending into the land. Everything covered by a uniform blanket of snow. The only markings on the surface are the triangular tracks made by geese and other animals in search of food. My own boot-prints cross on top of them as I make my way slowly over the ice.

I'm cold enough that I can't feel the tips of my ears or nose. But I don't mind. The mild pain is worth it. This weather is clearing my head. My bare hands clench in my jacket pockets, feeling for my phone, trying to summon a call from Jonah or Mila or, God willing, Camila.

Camila... please be okay. You have to be okay.

If she's still wearing the prayer beads, I should be able to track her location. But I can't do that from my cabin. The cops need to get away from my mansion. I can't do anything until they're off my back.

A sharp honk echoes through the air. Craning my neck, I watch as a flock of geese, their black heads contrasting against the white clouds, soar overhead. I marvel at how effortle