bumper was pressed against a tree, and mounds of sand behind the wheels told me it had run nose first into the trunk and was left with its wheels churning for some time afterward.
My head roared as time seemed to collapse on itself, back to the moment I’d found my mother in the Jeep. It was a familiar scenario: the car smashed into a tree, the keys in the ignition. The only difference was that she’d been in the car. I scouted around the Cruiser and climbed onto the spare tire on the back to look inside. It was empty. No Dad. No Theo.
I was vaguely aware of Sam opening the door and catching me as I fell out of the cab. He lowered me to the ground and held my trembling shoulders as I mumbled, “
No, no, no,
” over and over again.
He said my name softly, insistently. “Look at me, Sarah. Sarah, please. I’m here, I’ve got you, just calm down.
Sarah
.”
Gradually, my eyes, feeling feverish and raw, focused on his.
“He’s not here,” I said.
“I know. That’s a good thing, Sarah.”
“It is?” My mind felt slow and dull. Thinking was like wading knee-deep through sand.
“Yes. Listen, if they’d shot him, they’d have left him here, right? There’d be blood, there’d be something to tell us he was hurt. But he isn’t here, which means either they took him alive or he escaped into the bush. Don’t you think it’s more likely he and Theo ran off? Lost them on foot? When he called you, he said he was trying to lose them. That would have been easier on foot.”
I thought about it; it seemed to take ages to slog through the facts as Sam laid them out. “Maybe. Maybe they tried, and the poachers caught up with them and—”
“Stop it. You’re a researcher, right? You work with facts, not conjecture.”
I stared at him dumbly.
Sam took my face between his hands. “Think about the facts, and only the facts. What you can see, what you can
know
. Your dad and Theo
were
here, but now they’re not.”
“So I have to find them,” I whispered.
“Right. And I’ll help you.”
I pulled away from him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you so . . . calm? So nice to me? Why aren’t you back there with the others?”
He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it, looking conflicted. “Just let me help you, okay?”
I nodded reluctantly, unsure whether to be suspicious or glad for his steadying support.
“Can their tracks tell you anything?” Sam asked.
Pulling myself together, I focused on the ground. I could almost see the scene happening around me, like a ghostly reenactment. “Dad hit the tree and then . . . Here, see these deep tracks, and the way the sand was pushed away? The poachers skidded to a stop, probably to avoid hitting the Cruiser. And there! Footprints!” My heart began to race as I processed the clues in the sand, sorting the impressions into a pattern I could read. “Dad jumped out here and took off to the west.” I circled to the passenger side. “And Theo went east. They split up, trying to lose the poachers on foot. It’s easier to disappear that way than to try to outrun them in the truck.”
Which left me in a dilemma. Follow Dad or follow Theo? They had a twenty-four-hour head start on us, and as more time passed, their trails would only get fainter.
If I were a bloodhound, this was where I would have whined and run in circles, chasing my own tail. Racked with indecision, I spread out and followed each trail a bit farther before doubling back, just in case Dad and Theo had met up somewhere nearby and taken off together. They hadn’t. And I noticed that the poachers had pursued Dad, not Theo. A closer look at the surrounding foliage revealed why: The brush through which Theo had passed was dotted with blood.
SIX
T heo,” I said, my voice coarse as gravel. “It’s Theo’s blood.” I broke into a run, as fast as I could go while still keeping an eye on his footprints. He had staggered along, dragging one foot. Broken branches on the dry bushes showed
My head roared as time seemed to collapse on itself, back to the moment I’d found my mother in the Jeep. It was a familiar scenario: the car smashed into a tree, the keys in the ignition. The only difference was that she’d been in the car. I scouted around the Cruiser and climbed onto the spare tire on the back to look inside. It was empty. No Dad. No Theo.
I was vaguely aware of Sam opening the door and catching me as I fell out of the cab. He lowered me to the ground and held my trembling shoulders as I mumbled, “
No, no, no,
” over and over again.
He said my name softly, insistently. “Look at me, Sarah. Sarah, please. I’m here, I’ve got you, just calm down.
Sarah
.”
Gradually, my eyes, feeling feverish and raw, focused on his.
“He’s not here,” I said.
“I know. That’s a good thing, Sarah.”
“It is?” My mind felt slow and dull. Thinking was like wading knee-deep through sand.
“Yes. Listen, if they’d shot him, they’d have left him here, right? There’d be blood, there’d be something to tell us he was hurt. But he isn’t here, which means either they took him alive or he escaped into the bush. Don’t you think it’s more likely he and Theo ran off? Lost them on foot? When he called you, he said he was trying to lose them. That would have been easier on foot.”
I thought about it; it seemed to take ages to slog through the facts as Sam laid them out. “Maybe. Maybe they tried, and the poachers caught up with them and—”
“Stop it. You’re a researcher, right? You work with facts, not conjecture.”
I stared at him dumbly.
Sam took my face between his hands. “Think about the facts, and only the facts. What you can see, what you can
know
. Your dad and Theo
were
here, but now they’re not.”
“So I have to find them,” I whispered.
“Right. And I’ll help you.”
I pulled away from him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you so . . . calm? So nice to me? Why aren’t you back there with the others?”
He opened his mouth to answer, then shut it, looking conflicted. “Just let me help you, okay?”
I nodded reluctantly, unsure whether to be suspicious or glad for his steadying support.
“Can their tracks tell you anything?” Sam asked.
Pulling myself together, I focused on the ground. I could almost see the scene happening around me, like a ghostly reenactment. “Dad hit the tree and then . . . Here, see these deep tracks, and the way the sand was pushed away? The poachers skidded to a stop, probably to avoid hitting the Cruiser. And there! Footprints!” My heart began to race as I processed the clues in the sand, sorting the impressions into a pattern I could read. “Dad jumped out here and took off to the west.” I circled to the passenger side. “And Theo went east. They split up, trying to lose the poachers on foot. It’s easier to disappear that way than to try to outrun them in the truck.”
Which left me in a dilemma. Follow Dad or follow Theo? They had a twenty-four-hour head start on us, and as more time passed, their trails would only get fainter.
If I were a bloodhound, this was where I would have whined and run in circles, chasing my own tail. Racked with indecision, I spread out and followed each trail a bit farther before doubling back, just in case Dad and Theo had met up somewhere nearby and taken off together. They hadn’t. And I noticed that the poachers had pursued Dad, not Theo. A closer look at the surrounding foliage revealed why: The brush through which Theo had passed was dotted with blood.
SIX
T heo,” I said, my voice coarse as gravel. “It’s Theo’s blood.” I broke into a run, as fast as I could go while still keeping an eye on his footprints. He had staggered along, dragging one foot. Broken branches on the dry bushes showed
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