I looked at Rachel.
"Where's the horse?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
Then Emma entered the garage.
She was carrying her backpack.
"I know where it is."
Everyone turned.
Emma approached the table.
"I took it."
Rachel stood.
"Why?"
Emma looked nervous.
"Because the man in the black car asked me about it."
My heart stopped.
"What man?"
She looked at me.
"He came to the house yesterday."
"Did you see his face?"
She nodded.
"He had glasses."
I looked toward Dad.
He whispered, "Harold."
Emma continued.
"He said he wanted to buy the horse."
"Did you give it to him?"
"No."
"Where did you put it?"
She opened her backpack.
The wooden horse was wrapped in a small towel.
I exhaled.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Emma looked down.
"Because Mom said not to tell strangers."
I knelt.
"You did the right thing."
She seemed relieved.
I examined the horse.
Its paint was faded.
One ear had a small chip.
I turned it over.
There was a tiny screw beneath the base.
Benny carefully removed it.
Inside was a folded piece of paper.
And a small metal key.
The paper contained only one sentence.
Daniel knows what happened to the children.
We left for Vermont that afternoon.
I wanted Emma to stay with Dana.
But she refused.
She wanted her mother.
She wanted Caleb.
And she wanted to know why so many adults were making decisions about her life without explaining anything.
I understood.
So we made arrangements for her to travel with Rachel and Dana in a separate car.
My father, Caleb, and I rode with Grizzly.
Benny followed with Raymond.
The trip took several hours.
We passed through small towns, wooded roads, and stretches of highway where the autumn leaves had begun turning red and gold.
For most of the journey, nobody spoke.
Eventually, Caleb broke the silence.
"Do you remember when we used to race bicycles down the hill behind the garage?"
I glanced at him.
"Of course."
"You always cheated."
"I was faster."
"You pushed me."
"You were in the way."
He laughed.
It was the first time I had heard him laugh naturally since returning.
Then his expression changed.
"I missed you."
I kept my eyes on the road.
"I missed you too."
"I thought about calling you a thousand times."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I was afraid."
"Of Marcus?"
"Of what would happen if I came back."
I nodded.
After a moment, I said, "I wish you had trusted me."
"I know."
We drove quietly for another mile.
Then I added, "I'm glad you're here."
Caleb looked out the window.
"Me too."
The farmhouse was located at the end of a narrow gravel road.
It was an old building with white siding and a red roof.
A barn stood behind it.
The windows were dark.
There was a mailbox beside the road.
No name.
Just the number 317.
The same number as the locker.
I parked.
Dad stepped out.
He studied the property.
"Daniel used to stay here."
"Who owns it now?" Grizzly asked.
Dad shook his head.
"I don't know."
We approached the front door.
It was unlocked.
Inside, the house was clean but empty.
There was furniture.
A kitchen table.
Two chairs.
A small television.
But no personal photographs.
No clothing.
No signs that anyone lived there.
Caleb walked toward the hallway.
"Daniel?"
No answer.
I checked the kitchen.
A cup sat beside the sink.
It was still slightly warm.
Someone had been there recently.
Then I noticed a photograph on the table.
It showed Daniel standing beside a young woman.
The woman was holding a baby.
I recognized the baby.
Emma.
Rachel appeared behind me.
She stared at the photograph.
Her knees nearly gave way.
"That's me."
Caleb looked at the picture.
"And that's Daniel."
Rachel touched the glass.
"He was alive."
I turned the photograph over.
A message had been written on the back.
If you have found this, the boy has already told you the truth.
I looked at Dad.
"What truth?"
He shook his head.
Then a sound came from the barn.
A metallic crash.
We all turned.
Grizzly motioned for everyone to stay back.
He approached the rear door.
I followed.
The barn door was slightly open.
Inside, a single light was burning.
A motorcycle stood near the workbench.
Red Honda.
The same motorcycle from the photograph.
And beside it stood a man.
He was taller than I expected.
His hair was dark, with gray at the temples.
He wore a faded denim jacket.
When he turned, I recognized the face.
Daniel Hale.
He looked at us.
Then he looked at Rachel.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Finally, he whispered:
"Emma?"
Rachel began crying.
"She's here."
Daniel closed his eyes.
He looked as though the words had physically struck him.
Then he stepped forward.
"Where is she?"
Rachel pointed toward the farmhouse.
"With Dana."
Daniel started walking.
I moved into his path.
"Wait."
He stopped.