"We have to find him!" Emily jumped off her chair. "Grandpa Walt loves him! He'll be so sad!"
"Sweetheart, stay here. I'll go look. I'll be right back."
He grabbed a flashlight and his rain jacket and stepped out into the storm.
The backyard was a river. Water streamed across the grass toward the drainage creek that ran behind the row of houses, a creek that was usually a trickle you could step across. Tonight, Daniel could hear it roaring.
He searched for ten minutes, calling Biscuit's name, sweeping the flashlight across the fence line. Nothing.
When he came back inside, soaked to the bone, the kitchen was empty.
The candles were still burning. The stuffed rabbit was on the chair.
Emily was gone.
Her rain boots were gone from beside the door.
Daniel Carter had been in situations that would have broken most men. He had been ambushed in mountain passes. He had lost radio contact behind enemy lines. He had carried a dying friend for two miles through the dark.
None of it had ever made his heart stop the way it did in that moment.
"Emily!" he roared into the storm. "EMILY!"
The wind threw his voice back in his face.
Then, through the rain, he saw headlights. A car skidded to a stop in front of his house. Blake jumped out, followed by Richard.
"We saw your flashlight!" Blake shouted over the wind. "Power's out on the whole street. Is everyone okay?"
"Emily's gone," Daniel said. His voice was steady, but his hands were not. "She went after the dog. Toward the creek."
Blake's face went pale. But only for a second.
Then something settled in him. The thing Daniel had spent all summer teaching him.
Breathe. Stand still. Choose.
"Dad, call 911," Blake said. "Then go get Mr. Hayes and wake up the neighbors. We need flashlights. Lots of them." He turned to Daniel. "Which way?"