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“Is she hurt?”

“She has some bruises. Her wrists are cut up. But she was standing, arguing with me, and refusing to do anything I told her.”

Taylor looks away, smiling.

Sage lets out something between a sob and a laugh.

“That sounds good.”

“It is.”

“Did she ask about me?”

The question nearly breaks me.

“Yes.”

It isn't enough.

I know what Sage is really asking.

“She's been worried about you since the moment they took her.”

Another silence.

“Does she know I'm okay?”

“Yes.”

“Can I talk to her?”

I look toward the mountains.

Hayley is back there.

Less than ten miles away.

Eighteen years separated from her daughter.

“No.”

Sage goes quiet.

“Not over the phone,” I add.

“Why?”

“Because I’m bringing her to you.”

Her breath catches.

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

“As soon as law enforcement releases her.”