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to his truck, he powered up his phone. The buzzing and pinging for missed calls and texts went on for ten seconds. What the hell had happened? He held his breath as he glanced at the phone’s preview screen hoping to see some news about the victims being found.

His hopes were quickly dashed as he saw it was just a stream of messages from two of his brothers and Mama.

FRANCO: call me

RAFE: pick up the damn phone

MAMA: Tony, we’re worried about you. Call or stop by, bambino.

FRANCO: know you had a tough day. don’t do anything stupid. call me.

RAFE: Where the hell are you?

Geez, can’t a guy get laid without the entire family having to know about it? He composed a group text to allay everyone’s fears, adding Matt, too, in case he got wind of this after spending time with his horses, which pretty much consumed his every nonworking hour.

TONY: Had a date. Phone off. I’m fine. Headed out to search. Will call later.

He loved knowing his family cared enough to have his back, but sometimes Tony wondered what it would be like to live where everyone wasn’t up in his business all the time. Too late, he realized he’d just told Rafe he was going out to search but wouldn’t tell him it wasn’t the first time since they’d gone their separate ways yesterday.

After texting the SAR dispatcher and getting the location of the current staging area, Tony headed out. At least the forecast didn’t include more rain.

When he arrived at the parking area, Tony’s heart pounded erratically.

Don’t think about what happened yesterday.

He scanned the group of SAR volunteers, seeing Luke Denton as well as Ryder and Megan Wilson. Both men had brought their dogs, which had been trained in water searches. No one did more than give each other cursory nods. Luke and the Wilsons had just been together Friday and Saturday for the wedding festivities. Now they were going out to search for bodies.

Don’t assume they’re dead.

Despite his earlier hopes for a miracle, in the light of day his optimism waned that both would be found alive after a night in these frigid waters. Maybe neither one would be.

Stop expecting the worst-case scenario.

He wouldn’t have come out here if he had zero hope left.

After giving the dogs the mother’s scent using a shirt provided to command last night by the woman’s husband, Luke and Megan led the two SAR dogs into the stream starting at the last place the two victims had been seen.

“Tony, you and Ryder start searching at the bend just before where Silverheels Creek enters the river. Report back when you get to the Elk and Buckskin creeks junction—unless you find anything sooner.”

“Yes, sir.” Tony asked for the eastern bank for his team, having searched the western one last night. It also would be easier to reach the victims on foot from CR 3 to the east and get them to a waiting ambulance. Ryder added, “I’ll drive.” After stowing his gear in the back of the truck, Tony rode shotgun and informed him that the woman had been wearing an orange Broncos T-shirt. For the life of him, he couldn’t recall what the toddler was wearing.

All he remembered was the terrified look in her clear blue eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, after a short hike down from the county road, they scanned as far upstream as they could see, just in case. Nothing. They went to work in silence scouring the banks for signs of life. With all the debris from the mudslide and storm, progress was slow. The water was knee-deep, far lower than it had been last night. While muddy, it wasn’t so high that the woman’s body couldn’t be seen if still in the water.

Hours passed without any chatter on the radio. Other crews had been assigned to search all the way to Fairchance and beyond, but Tony’s gut told them they wouldn’t have made it around all those bends without being able to grab on to something.

Or having something grab on to them.

Realizing he hadn’t eaten breakfast, Tony pulled out two energy bars and offered one to Ryder.

“No, thanks. Megan and I ate on the way here this morning.”

After finishing his bar in three bites, Tony pocketed the wrapper before continuing down the river. Fifteen yards ahead he thought he caught a glimpse of something orange in the muddy water.

Oh God, please no.

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, but as he came closer, he knew without question it was the mother. He pointed her out to Ryder. “Call in our location.”

Tony jumped into the water and waded forward.

“Tony, why don’t you let me pull her out? I’ve seen death before.” The Marine had served in Iraq, if memory served.

“Maybe she’s not dead. The water’s awfully damned cold.” Lots of people survived cold-water accidents. However improbable it would be that she’d survived in the water overnight, Tony wouldn’t be deterred from that wish until he saw the woman’s hair fanning out around the back of her head. Not good. Was the toddler trapped underneath her?

He waded closer and turned her over, immediately noticing a large gaping wound on her right temple. Her eyes and mouth were wide open, and any remaining hope of survival was dashed by the bloated body and discolored face and arms. Lividity. Exposed brain matter. Remembering his training, he palpated her carotid artery. No pulse. There wasn’t anything he could do for her now. He hoped the end had come quickly for the woman.

But where was her daughter?

Tony wasn’t sure if he was relieved or sorry they wouldn’t be found together. He held onto the small sliver of hope that the toddler had survived.

Swallowing down the bile in his throat, he lifted the mother from the water and dragged her onto the bank. Tony picked up the radio. “I’ll call it in.” He pressed the button. “Rescue Group 6 to dispatch.” Go ahead Rescue Group 6 came across the radio immediately. “Subject one

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