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Geneva’s birthdate contained eight numbers, not six though, as she was born on the 14th of December.

I tried the month, day, and last two digits of the year. The screen vibrated, rejecting the attempt. I tried the month and the full year. No luck.

Though it seemed like a stroke of genius to me, taking the iPad, it now appeared to be folly.

I tried the day plus the full year. Nothing.

“Be careful,” Dad warned.

I put the year in backwards followed by the month. Nothing.

Taking a breath, I tried again. I punched in the year, then the two-digit day. My pulse jumped when the screen unlocked.

“Hot damn!” Dad exclaimed.

My joy was short-lived though. I got an immediate low battery warning and the tablet started to shut down.

“Oh for Pete’s ...”

I rifled through my desk looking for a charging cord. But Geneva had an older model iPad that used a connector I didn’t have handy.

“Where’s your old phone?” I asked Dad. “Do you still have the cords for it?”

“In my office somewhere.”

I darted down the hall to Dad’s office. He was right behind me. His desk was even more cluttered than mine. It took almost ten minutes, and five of those were Dad crawling around looking behind a file cabinet. Finally, he emerged victorious.

“Gotcha!” he shouted. I took the cord from him and plugged the iPad in. It took an agonizing few minutes for the thing to power back on. Then I had to get it connected to the office Wi-Fi.

When it did, I saw fourteen missed calls and six missed texts from me. It didn’t look like Geneva had sent an outgoing text since yesterday morning and that was to Landon asking him to stop by the pharmacy before he came home. But I wasn’t interested in any of that.

I found her Find My app and prayed she’d connected her phone and tablet together. My pulse raced when I realized she had. I pressed the Find button and waited. It seemed to take forever, but then her phone icon showed up.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Dad shouted before I could.

“No,” I whispered. “Oh no.”

“Mac!” Dad shouted again.

Mac and the others must have sensed the urgency in Dad’s voice. Holland, Maven, and Kincaid came roaring in together.

I handed the iPad to Dan Holland. “What am I looking at?” he asked.

Mac looked over his shoulder.

“She’s at Deadwater Lake,” I said, horror choking me. “Opus nōn perfectum. The job is not complete.”

Chapter

Thirty-Five

Dan was on the phone with his former boss, the Down County sheriff. No one could get a hold of any members of the Drummond family, the owners of the house out there, if that’s where Geneva was. The task force, along with the Down County deputies, formed a tactical plan to head to Deadwater Lake. It would be dark soon. My pleas to go with them were shut down immediately.

“Mercy,” Karen said. “I completely understand your distress. This is a police matter now. We don’t even know if Geneva is in any kind of danger. We’ll treat things as though she is. But it’s not time to panic or assume the worst.”

I knew that intellectually. Emotionally, I was desperate to get out there. Every bone in my body knew that something was very wrong. Geneva would not go back to Deadwater Lake voluntarily or on her own.

OPUS NŌN PERFECTUM