KnockOut

infusion of Turkish tar didn’t hold me up long.”
    Ethan said, “There’s lots of room in my swamp, so welcome aboard. See you in the morning.”
    “You going to go home too, Sheriff?”
    “Yeah, to feed the critters, then I’ve got to see Mrs. Backman in town, let her know what we’re doing. I’m nearly finished driving the perimeter of the wilderness.” Again. “Damnation, where is she, Ox? We’ve covered all the roads, the rangers have checked and rechecked the trails and campsites without a sign of her, and no one’s seen hide nor hair of her in or out of town. Nothing more to do until it’s light again. Go home to Belle, Ox.”
    “Yeah, my sweetheart and I deserve big steaks, then we’ll have a nice run in the woods.”
    Three more miles, Ethan thought as he punched off his cell, and he’d hit Rural Route 10, a winding two-lane country road that would take him to Highway 41, and back into Titusville.
    Titus Hitch Wilderness. He’d grown up here, knew every inch of the four thousand and fifty-four acres. He’d climbed the highest peak, called Titus Punch, many times and fished since he was four years old alongside his grandpa in the Sweet Onion River that flowed below the Appalachian Trail. He’d eaten tuna-salad sandwiches on Sod Drummer’s Ridge, a jagged, toothy line of rocks that cut the wilderness in half, and painted the endless stretches of tree-carpeted hills in every season. He’d explored the treacherous gullies, like knife gashes made by pissed-off giants, his grandpa had said, spent nights in almost all the caves. He’d even run through it in hundred-mile ultramarathons every year until a torn ACL, nearly rehabbed now, had brought him down on the last one the year before.
    Hut none of his knowledge had helped. His birthplace, his sanctuary, had turned a deaf ear. He felt itchy and cold, and the creep of fear for the single little girl. At night the trees and hills seemed to draw in around you here, smothering all light, like the devil closing his black fist.
    He hadn’t found one seven-year-old little girl, missing since this morning. He didn’t want to let the thought in, but he couldn’t help it. She could be lying somewhere hurt, unable to call for help, or even dead. Someone could have lured her away, maybe even killed her, buried her, or left her for the animals.
    He hated it.
    He punched in the sheriff’s office number and got Faydeen. She sounded tired, and no wonder, but he knew she’d make sure every searcher was thanked and asked to start up again in the morning. He started to call Gerald’s Loft, the B-&-B where the mother and child had been staying, but disconnected. No, better to tell her everything in person. He had some questions for her.
    Ethan had seen her and the little girl around Titusville for the past week—summer visitors, he’d been told when Mavis had introduced them in the checkout line in Blinker’s Market a couple of days ago. She hadn’t met his eyes. She’d backed her cart away. For some reason he couldn’t figure, she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Because he was a man? Or because he was the sheriff? A short vacation, that’s all he’d gotten out of her. He realized he didn’t really know a thing about her, since he’d been so anxious to get on the road and find the child. She’d handed him a photo, not meeting his eyes. “I was taking a nap. Autumn was playing with her dolls—the three princesses, she calls them. I only slept for an hour, not more, I’m sure of that.” He heard fear and soul-rotting guilt in her voice.
    “When I woke up and called her, she didn’t answer. She wasn’t here.” Her voice hitched, and she abruptly rose and began pacing the small sitting room. “She simply wasn’t here in the room, she wasn’t playing in the hallway. I ran downstairs to Mrs. Daily, and she hadn’t seen her, but of course she’s in and out all the time. She and I went out to ask everyone, but no one had seen her.” She still didn’t meet his eyes, and why was that? He couldn’t help wondering. “When we couldn’t find her, I came to you.”
    “You should have come to me immediately,” Ethan said, angry with her because she’d wasted valuable time. She shook her head, still not looking at him. He thought about black bears and bobcats and the four-thousand-plus acres of wilderness, dense with oak, hickory, maple, and pine trees, all clustered close together. He thought about the ditches and gullies and the