CHAPTER THREE

Caitlin felt something cold and wet on her face, and slowly opened her eyes. Disoriented, she was looking at her living room, sideways; she realized she had fallen asleep on the chair. The room was dim, and from the muted light coming through the drapes, she realized day was just beginning to break. The sound of pouring rain slammed against the glass.

Caitlin heard whining, and felt something wet on her face again and looked over and saw Ruth, standing over her, licking her, whining hysterically. She was prodding her with her cold, wet snout, and she wouldn’t quit.

Finally Caitlin sat up, realizing something was wrong. Ruth wouldn’t stop whining, louder and louder, then finally barking at her—she’d never known her to act this way.

“What is it, Ruth?” Caitlin asked.

Ruth barked again, then turned and ran from the room, towards the front door. Caitlin looked down and in the dim light made out a trail of muddy pawprints all over the carpet. Ruth must have been outside, Caitlin realized. The front door must be open.

Caitlin hurried to her feet, realizing that Ruth was trying to tell her something, to lead her somewhere.

Scarlet, she thought.

Ruth barked again, and Caitlin felt that was it. Ruth was trying to lead her to Scarlet.

Caitlin ran out the room, her heart pounding. She didn’t want to waste a second by running upstairs to get Caleb. She tore through the living room, through the parlor, and out the front door. Where could Ruth have possibly found Scarlet? she wondered. Was she safe? Was she alive?

Caitlin flooded with panic as she burst out the front door, already ajar from Ruth, who had somehow managed to get it open, and out onto the front porch. The world was filled with the sound of pouring rain. There was a soft, rumbling thunder, and a flash of lightning in the breaking dawn, and in the soft gray light, the torrential rain slammed down to earth.

Caitlin stopped at the top of the steps, as she saw where Ruth had went. She flooded with panic. Lightning filled the sky, and there, before her, was an image that traumatized her—one that lodged in her brain, one that she would never forget as long as she lived.

There, lying on the front lawn, curled up in a ball, unconscious, naked, was her daughter. Scarlet. Exposed to the rain.

Pacing over her, barking like crazy, Ruth looked back and forth between Caitlin and Scarlet.

Caitlin burst into action: she ran down the steps, tripping over them as she went, screaming out in terror as she ran for her daughter. Her mind raced with a million scenarios of what might have happened to her, where she might have went, how she might have returned. Whether she was healthy. Alive.

The worst possible scenarios all flashed through her mind at once, as Caitlin ran in the muddy grass, slipping and sliding.

“SCARLET!” Caitlin shrieked, and another clap of thunder met her cry.

It was the wail of a mother beside herself with grief, the wail of a mother who could not stop whaling as she ran to Scarlet, knelt beside her, scooped her up in her arms, and prayed to God with everything she had that her daughter was still alive.