Static, then a crackle of response.
“Copy that. I’ll circle the maze on the tractor.”
“That’s my brother, Dylan,” she explains.
“I’m on the ATV by the barn.”
“That’s Quinn.”
“Good,” I say. “You check the maze,” I tell her. “I’ll sweep the lot.”
She nods and bolts toward the maze, clipboard forgotten. I start toward the parking area, heart hammering.
“Huck!” she shouts somewhere behind me.
“TJ!” I call, scanning between the tents, the equipment shed, the maze entrance. Nothing.
The cheerful background noise of the farm feels wrong now—too bright, too far away.
“They’re okay,” I tell myself, forcing the words out even though they’re more prayer than statement. “They’re okay.”
But every instinct in me is awake, running hot.
Because the last time I looked, my son was laughing in a pile of corn.
And now he’s gone.
THREE
LANIE
My heart hasn’t stopped hammering since the second I realized Huck and TJ were gone.
Van’s already moving—his stride long and sure, voice calm in that firefighter way that makes everyone else think there’s nothing to panic about even when the world’s on fire. I cling to that steadiness like it’s oxygen.
“Dylan!” I call, spotting my brother behind the wheel of the tractor as a hayrack full of tourists rumbles past. “The boys are missing! They were just at the corn box!”
His eyes go wide. “I’ll circle the maze and the patch. Quinn’s on the ATV near the barn—I’ll radio him.”
“Thanks,” I shout as Van jogs beside me toward the maze entrance.
The cheerful laughter of kids inside hits like a slap. I squeeze through the rows of hay, scanning the paths for flashes of red or yellow. My throat’s dry. “Huck! TJ!”
There’s nothing but giggles and rustling straw.
“They’re smart,” Van says behind me, voice low but confident. “They’ll stick together. We’ll find them.”
“I know,” I say, even though my chest aches with guilt. “I should’ve been watching them. I should’ve?—”
A crackle on Van’s radio interrupts my spiral.
Quinn’s voice bursts through. “We found some tiny footprints near the woods behind the barn. Heading that way.”
We’re already running before he finishes. Gravel crunches under my boots, adrenaline pushing me faster than I’ve moved in years. Van keeps pace easily.
We crest the small hill overlooking the barn, and I see it—the winding path to the Enchanted Forest. Solar lights twinkle between the trees, faint even in daylight, and my stomach drops.
I think about the ravine in the middle of it.
