I picked up my phone and double checked that the ringer was on. Just in case. There were still no voicemails - from anyone. Not that I could have missed a call, the way I'd been checking every phantom vibration. But I checked again. Nothing from the police. Nothing from the private investigator I'd hired, and then fired, and then thought about hiring again. 

Nothing from Rachel. 

I deliberately set my phone and walked towards the window and looked out to the surrounding trees without seeing a thing. I was blind. And numb. I felt nothing except the need to check my phone again. 

The ringer was on. No one had called in the ten seconds since I last looked. 

"Where the fuck are you?" My silent house had no replay. Just like me, it had no idea where Rachel had disappeared that night. I sank down into a chair and raked my hands through my hair. I hadn't trimmed my beard in days and it was sticking out all wild-man crazy, which suited me. I had already gone through the shock and worry stage of grief. 

Now I was angry. 

Finn's head bobbed past the side window, out on his morning walk. We'd flipped roles. While I had been a basket case these past four days, Finn was happier than I'd seen him in forever, spending his days tramping around the fifteen acres that came with this house. He spent a lot of time throwing rocks into the pond and watching the ripples as they formed rings on the surface. He was in nature, and finally at peace. 

And I fucking hated him for it. 

We'd barely spoken since the night he'd drank so much I thought he'd overdosed on pills. He knew that I blamed him for Rachel disappearing. Last night he'd stood in the doorway to my bedroom and watched me as I talked to the detective on the missing person’s case, and when I hung up, frustrated, he'd actually looked abashed.

"Look man, I know you're hurting. But I didn't ask you to come take care of me. You did that on your own."

Which was as close as I was going to get to an apology from Finn.

"I know," I'd said, running my hand through my hair again. "And that's the worst fucking part." I'd chosen my brother over the woman I loved and as a result I'd fucking lost her. I had no right to be angry at Finn for Rachel's disappearance. 

But I still was.

And that was bad, because we were about to be spending even more time together. 

I grabbed my suitcase. "Yo!" I shouted out of the window, but Finn wasn't on the side lawn anymore. I stomped out onto the deck to see my where the hell my nature-loving Zen-monk of a brother had wandered off to and spotted him down the sloped lawn at the edge of the fishing pond. Memory assaulted me yet again, as that golden moment when Rachel surprised me with her fishing skills invaded my head. Grief washed over me and right after it came a wave of rage worse than what I'd felt the night of Finn's "overdose." I checked my phone one more time just to feel the way my heart sank when I saw she hadn't called me to explain, and then tucked it into my pocket and leaned over the deck railing to glare down at him. "We gotta go!"

"Van's not here yet!" he hollered back serenely. I didn't even realize you could holler serenely and that just made me even more agitated. I checked my phone again.

And it started ringing in my hand.

I was so startled my hand jerked, momentarily loosening my grip. My phone slipped from my hand and rang again as it seemed to hang there in space.

"Fuck!" I cried as my phone fell over the railing. "Fuck!!" 

At that moment, the limo-van crunched and swayed its way up the driveway, but I was only half aware of its arrival. Desperate, I leaned over the railing, praying the impact hadn't shattered it, but there it was, lying in the grass face-up. 

It rang again. 

I had half a mind to jump right over the railing after it, but the twelve-foot drop was too high. I growled out a curse and sprinted to the side stairs. 

The doors to the van slammed. "Hey! You guys aren't even ready!" Claire called out. "Come on!"

"Shut up!" I barked savagely. My feet hit the grass and I was already running to the spot where I'd last seen my phone. "Shit, where are you? Shit!" 

"You lose something?" Finn floated back up the lawn with the relaxed gait of a man who hadn't lost everything.

"Phone!" I turned in helpless circles in the grass. 

Claire was watching all of this with pursed lips. "You guys, we really need to go, New York City is not exactly close to here. Aren't you even a little excited? Come on!" she whined. "Today's the day, dammit!"

I ignored her and kept walking with my head down. Everything - the ride to New York, the upcoming reunion show, all of it - could wait until I found out who had called. "I think Rachel called," I managed to choke through my frustration. "And right as it started ringing, I dropped my fucking phone over the railing because somebody"—I glared at Finn— "wasn't here at the house and waiting like he should have been."

"Hey!" Finn held up his hands to ward me off. "This isn't my fault. You're the keyboardist, you shouldn't have such clumsy fingers."

I was about to tackle him to the ground when Jonah - who'd come up behind me without saying anything - suddenly called out, "Is that it?" 

I spun and then dove when I saw the glinting metal. Finn stared at me like I'd gone completely mad, which I very well might have. Claire still looked confused, but Jonah - who'd fallen in love with a sweet, strong girl who'd changed him completely - seemed to understand.

"I hope it's her." He gave me a solemn nod. I took a deep breath and looked at the miraculously uncracked screen. 

My heart sank. "It's not her number." I looked again and my heart squeezed even tighter. "I think it's the detective on the missing person's case."

"Well, call him back!" Claire exploded. 

I had already hit callback. "Jenkins," came the brusque voice on the other end of the line. I recognized the bored, skeptical tone of the detective I'd spoken to that frantic night she'd first gone missing. 

"Yes, hi." I cleared my throat and tried to sound more in control, then shoved that aside as useless. I was completely and totally out of control. "This is Beauregard King, I think you'd just called me in regard to Rachel Walker?"

Three of my siblings were staring at me with wide eyes. Claire had her hands over her mouth. Jonah was watching me with his hands shoved in his pocket. And Finn was staring at his boots. But all three of them were here, and that made me feel a tiny bit better. 

Detective Jenkins inhaled sharply. "We've located the subject in question."

I gave a whoop of relief and cupped my hand over the mouthpiece. "They found her!" Claire clapped and launched herself at me for a hug, but Jenkins was still talking, "...does not wish to be contacted."

I pulled back from Claire. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Jenkins sighed. "Rachel Walker does not wish to be contacted."

It felt like he'd sunk a knife right under my ribcage. "She's.... Why?"

He gave a dismissive chuckle, "Oh you know how it is down at that compound. Calling you Satan and all that nonsense. It's all pretty shady if you ask me, and I was looking forward to finding some evidence of lawbreaking when you gave me this case, but she turned up safe and sound, wearing all those heavy skirts and telling me that she was there of her own free will. Wasn't much I could do after that."

My hand dropped away from my ear. Numbly, I stared past my siblings. She'd gone back? After what she told me, she'd gone back?

"What did he say?" Claire begged.

I blinked, and with the greatest effort, I hauled the phone back up to my ear. "Thank you for telling me," I said mechanically, then ended the call. 

"What happened? Where is she?" Claire's voice was rising. 

I looked around. Everything seemed wrong. Even the colors were strange. "This makes no sense," I muttered, frustrating my sister. "I love her."

And then, with a jolt, I realized I'd never told her. 

And now I'd never be able to.

"Let's get out of here," I begged. 

My brother, who had found a peace in this place he'd never had before, took a deep breath. Then he slung his arm around my shoulder.  "Yeah. Let's get out of here," he agreed.