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Mac’s head snapped around. The dog was facing east. Back toward the ruins.

“She wasn’t in it,” Virgil said. He nodded toward Goblin. “Dog was with her. He came from back there.”

Mac got to his feet too quickly and the world tilted. Ben grabbed his arm, but this time Mac didn’t fight him. He waited one second for the ground to settle beneath him, then sprinted back to the trucks, Ben keeping pace beside him.

“Virgil, that place we passed. Was there anything left besides the chimney? Some place she could have…” He trailed off. Hope hurt worse than fear.

Virgil shook his head. “Not much. Some foundation. Old timbers.” His eyes widened. “Cellar.”

Mac’s heart stopped. “What?”

“There’s a root cellar behind the old wall.”

Goblin barked again.

Mac turned toward the truck.

“Get in.”

Ben didn’t waste time. As soon as everyone was in, he threw the truck into reverse, backed hard, narrowly missing Hank’s truck, until he found enough room to turn around, then headed east. Hank followed behind them. Mac watched through the windshield for the chimney while Goblin scrambled from one side of the back seat to the other, whining and barking as though the humans in the truck were too stupid to understand what he’d been trying to tell them for the last ten minutes.

“I know, buddy,” Mac said. “We’re going.”

Please be there, Ranch Girl.

He couldn’t let himself put anything after those words. Couldn’t picture what they might find in the cellar, or whether Jodie had even seen it, or whether Virgil was remembering something that had collapsed fifty years ago. He could only watch the burned land rushing past and wait for the chimney to appear.

“There.” Virgil pointed between the seats.

Ben left the two-track and pulled as close to the ruins as the truck could manage. Goblin began barking before they stopped. The instant Virgil opened the back door, the dog shot out and disappeared behind the remains of the stone wall.

Mac followed him.

“Jodie!”

Goblin was clawing frantically at something low to the ground. Mac came around the wall and saw two wooden doors set over a stone opening, the wood blackened and blistered from the fire. Burned grass and ash had blown across them. A chunk of the stone wall had fallen on top of one of the doors.

“Jodie!”

Nothing.

His stomach dropped.

Goblin scratched harder.

Ben rolled the stone off one door while Mac grabbed the iron handle on the other one and pulled. The metal was hot, but he didn’t give a damn. The door shifted, then jammed.

“Come on.” He planted one boot against the frame and hauled with both hands. “Come the fuck on.”

The wood moved less than an inch.

“Move over,” Ben told him.

Mac kept pulling at the door.

“Mac.”

“She’s in there.”