Megan's mate

We'll organize a

search party. Won't he be excited when he finds out?

An hour later, they were spread throughout the house, searching corners and hidey-holes, retracing and backtracking. Megan kept a steel grip on her composure and covered every inch, starting in the tower and working her way down.

He had to be here, she reassured herself. Of course, she would find him any minute.

It didn't make sense otherwise.

Bubbles of hysteria rose in her throat and had to be choked down.

He was just playing a game. He'd gone exploring. He loved the house so much. He'd drawn dozens of pictures of it to send back to Oklahoma so that everyone could see that he lived in a castle.

She would find him behind the next door she opened.

Megan told herself that, repeating it like a litany, as she worked her way from room to room.

She ran into Suzanna in one of the snaking hallways. She felt cold, so cold, though the sun beat hot against the windows.

He doesn't answer me,

she said faintly.

I

keep calling him, but he doesn't answer.

It's such a big house.

Suzanna took Megan's hands, gripped hard.

Once when we

were kids we played hide-and-seek and didn't find Lilah for three hours. She'd crawled into a cabinet on the third floor and had a nap.

Suzanna.

Megan pressed her lips together. She had to face it, and quickly.

His

two favorite shirts are missing, and both pairs of his sneakers. His baseball caps.

The money he'd been saving in his jar is gone. He's not in the house. He's run away.

You need to sit down.

No, I I need to do something. Call the police. Oh, God Breaking, Megan

pressed her hands to her face.

Anything could have happened to him. He's just a little boy. I don't even know how long he's been gone. I don't even know.

Her eyes,

swimming with fear, locked on Suzanna's.

Did you ask Alex, Jenny? Maybe he said something to them. Maybe

Of course I asked them, Megan,

Suzanna said gently.

Kevin didn't say anything

to them about leaving.

Where would he go? Why? Back to Oklahoma, she said on a wild, hopeful

thought.

Maybe he's trying to get back to Oklahoma. Maybe he's been unhappy, just pretending to like it here.

He's been happy. But we'll check it out. Come on, let's go down.

Been over every bit of this section, Dutch told Nathaniel.

The pantries, the

storerooms, even the meat locker. Trent and Sloan are going over the renovation areas, and Max and Holt are beating the bushes all over the grounds.

There was worry in his eyes, but he was brewing a pot of fresh coffee with steady hands.

Seems to me if the kid was just playing and heard all this shouting and calling, he'd come out to see what the excitement was all about.

We've been over the house twice.

Nathaniel stared grimly out the window.

Amanda and Lilah have combed every inch of The Retreat. He's not in here.

Don't make a lick of sense to me. Kevin's been happy as a clam. He's in here every blessed day, getting under my feet and begging for sea stories.

Something's got him running.

There was a prickle at the back of his neck. Rubbing it absently, Nathaniel looked out toward the cliffs.

Why does a kid run? Because

he's scared, or he's hurt, or he's unhappy.

That boy ain't none of those things,

Dutch said staunchly.

I wouldn't have thought so.

Nathaniel had been all three at that age, and he

believed he would have recognized the signs. There had been times he ran, too. But he'd had nowhere to go.

The tickle at the back of his neck persisted. Again, he found his gaze wandering toward the cliffs.

I've got a feeling,

he said almost to himself.

What?

No, just a feeling.

The prickle was in his gut now.

I'm going to check it out.

It was as though he were being pulled to the cliffs. Nathaniel didn't fight it, though the rocky ground jarred the pain back into his bones and the steep climb stole his breath. With one hand pressed to his aching ribs, he continued, his gaze sweeping the rocks and the high wild grass.

It was, he knew, a place that would draw a child. It had drawn him as a boy. And as a man.

The sun was high and white, the sea sapphire blue, then frothy where it lashed and foamed on the rocks. Beautiful and deadly. He thought of a young boy stumbling along the path, missing a step, slipping. The nausea churned so violently he had to stop and choke it back.

Nothing had happened to Kevin, he assured himself. He wouldn't let anything happen to Kevin.

He turned, started to climb higher, calling the boy's name as he searched.

It was the bird that caught his eye. A pure white gull, graceful as a dancer, swooped over the grass and rock, circled back with a musical call that was almost human, eerily feminine. He stood, staring at it. For one sunstruck second, Nathaniel would have sworn the gull's eyes were green, green as emeralds.

It glided down, perched on the ledge below and looked up, as if waiting for him.