“My sister Evelyn’s.”

“Does she know what’s happened?”

“Not yet.”

“Call her this minute.

And Jessi — listen to me — do not, under any circumstances, go back to that property alone tonight.” I heard her already typing, the machinery of my rescue beginning to turn.

I looked down at my daughter, rain dripping off my hood onto her blanket, and I felt the last piece of it settle into place inside me, cold and clear.

“I came here tonight thinking I was finally bringing my daughter home,” I said.