Rede and Four-Stroke both expected the other jackers to come in late, but they showed up surprisingly soon: a heads-up crackled out over Four-Stroke’s radio moments before a nebulous silhouette edged around the corner of a building. As they drifted closer, the details resolved through the haze of mist rising off the water. A cluster of bodies huddled inside a dented blue motorboat, eyes sunken and lips chapped.

By the time the nose of the boat bumped against the shore, Four-Stroke had already slid down the incline, ready to grab the docking rope they threw him. He held the boat still while the other jackers climbed onto dry land, stretching their legs and rubbing warmth back into their hands.

There were three altogether, each dressed in the typical mishmash of salvaged work clothes and military kit. They appeared to be around Four-Stroke’s age — somewhere in their late thirties, maybe older — though none of them were as tall or broad as he was. No wonder he’d been chosen as the guard.

Sleepily, the newcomers greeted their colleague and gave the boat a once-over. One of them caught Rede’s eye and started. His hand flew to the holster on his thigh, only stilling when Four-Stroke put a hand on his arm and muttered something inaudible.

Rede squatted with one hand on the dirt. She considered offering the jackers help getting up the bank, but something told her they wouldn’t exactly be enthusiastic to accept.

The one who’d nearly pulled a gun on her was the first to climb up. Their eyes met again as he went, curiosity warping his expression for a moment before he tore his attention away. The man was skinny and pale, with arms just a little too long for his body. He moved in scuttling bursts like a roach darting across the kitchen floor. The man reminded her of her dad.

She shook the thought away and slid down the bank to join Four-Stroke, who was wrestling with the tow rope. “Want help?”

Four-Stroke didn’t respond. His eyes had strayed upwards, accompanied by a jut of the chin. Rede turned to see her crew at the top of the slope, silhouetted by the light of the almost-risen sun.

“We heard gunshots,” said Inna.

Four-Stroke grunted. “This one wanted practice.”

Rede waved helpfully.

Inna blinked. “Oh. Sure. Rede does guns now.”

“Did you guys come out here for a reason, or what?” Rede said. Her tetchiness was obvious, though that was probably because she was sleep-deprived and also hadn’t eaten real food in…what, twenty-four hours? More than that, probably. She tried to tamp down her new and unwelcome awareness of the hunger pangs clawing at her stomach.

“Yeah, we were just gonna tell you it’s time to go.” Inna ran his fingers through his hair, somehow leaving it even messier than before. “Shay and Ronan are talking for a bit, but we’re supposed to get the canoe ready in the meantime.”

Rede gave a short nod. There wasn’t much to do, if they were being realistic, but she waited for the team to clamber down the bank and went through the motions with them anyway. Check the ropes on the yakus, bail out excess water, make sure the dry bag was in place.

The patter-thump of Shay’s jackrabbit footsteps heralded her arrival. She slid down the riverbank toward the team, apologizing for her late arrival as Thanh impatiently shepherded her into the canoe’s second bench.

“We should stop by our meeting point on the way,” Inna said. “Can we leave a note or something, just so people know we’re off duty for a bit?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Mara.

“Let’s hit it up on the way back,” Thanh suggested. “Poor Mimi’s probably freezing her tits off.”

“Good call,” said Rede. “Also, there’s food in the Barn, and I want to eat.”

The others mumbled their agreement.

Final preparations made, the team launched the canoe in a series of practiced motions. As the temporary lead, Rede was in charge of holding the front lead rope. Soaked fibers chilled her fingers and hung limply against her palm, a mockery of the solid weight of Four-Stroke’s pistol.

Rede glanced over her shoulder. The jacker had already ascended the embankment, gazing out over the horizon with his hands on his hips. Rede called out a thank you, but he didn’t seem to hear.

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After everyone else was in position, Rede hopped into her seat and readied her paddle. At Mara’s cry, she took it away.

With only four paddlers and one extra body, the going was slow and strenuous. Thanh’s chattering teeth quickly turned into pants of exertion that Rede could hear all the way in the front of the boat. Shay’s presence behind her — “you don’t want to put the lady with the gun in a low-vis spot, do you?” — annoyed Rede far more than she’d like to admit. A girl-shaped mess of questions and secrets and rage, occupying the place Rede normally took. She tried to curb her anger: better to focus on her timing and form than the mess of emotions currently screwing with her head.

Somehow, the journey passed uneventfully. They only saw one other craft, and it was a houseboat moored on the other side of the river. They passed the wreckage of the Tilikum Bridge and drifted steadily toward the ramp.

When the nose of the canoe bumped the shore, Rede was already halfway out of her bench. She leaned her paddle against Shay’s shoulder despite her indignant squawk and grabbed the soggy rope with her free hand, pausing only to call, “Hey Mimi, we’re back!” as she scrambled up the ramp.

The others positioned the canoe parallel to the dock so they could climb out. With her back to the inside of the Barn, Rede couldn’t see where Mimi was; she watched her companions’ faces so she’d know when their friend approached.

Inna frowned. “I can’t see her.”

“You know Mimi. Cautious or whatever. She probably hid,” Thanh said. She raised her voice: “Hey! Miriam Elizabeth Chau! Where the fuck are you?”

“I’ll go get her,” Inna said. He wandered further into the Barn.

Mara and Rede tied down the canoe — no use docking it for real when they were about to leave — and turned to follow Inna. The lights were indeed off, the strings of little bulbs gleaming faintly in the light that streamed in through the open windows. Rede took a moment to watch the dust motes floating through the air, take a deep breath and savor the sense of familiarity that washed over her.

“This is where you live?” Shay asked. She stood at Rede’s elbow, scanning the building’s interior. “Pretty open space you’ve got going on here.”

“Yup.” Rede gestured toward the mattresses at the far end. “That’s the bedroom. Mimi’s probably asleep over there.”

“Yeah.” Shay didn’t seem convinced.

Inna had reached the mattresses and was patting each one down methodically. He finished, stood, and turned toward the others with his hands spread in confusion.

A tingle of dread wormed its way down Rede’s spine.

She looked to Thanh, who had gone to check among the boxes of food. She was looking around in bewilderment, rubbing the back of her neck and mumbling curses.

“Nothing over here,” Mara said from behind the storage armoire.

That was where Mimi kept the radio. If she were to hide, it would be there — she’d want to be able to contact someone for help.

“I’ll go check outside.” Shay started toward the exit.

“Don’t bother,” Rede said hollowly. Mimi wouldn’t have been stupid enough to leave the Barn, not when someone was after the crew. If she’d found somewhere to hide, she would have picked a place where she could hear them approach. She wasn’t here.

Shay met Rede’s eye. Her face was grim and hard; she didn’t speak for Rede to know she understood.

“Fuck,” said Inna.

That pretty much summed it up. Rede walked on shaky legs toward the pile of boxes surrounding Thanh. She sank down onto one and willed herself to stay calm. They couldn’t afford for her to lose her shit again.

“You’re sure she wouldn’t have gone off on her own to do something?” Shay asked. “Maybe she had some sort of knowledge, a connection…?”

“She wouldn’t have left on her own,” Inna insisted.

Thanh started to pace. “Okay,” she said to no one in particular. “Okay. So there’s no note. Right, guys? No one’s seen a note?”

“This wasn’t a suicide,” Rede snapped.

“No shit,” Thanh shot back. “But if she knew someone was coming, she would’ve left us something to go off of.”

“I haven’t found anything,” Inna said. He looked at the others hopefully. They stared blankly back.

“No body. Nothing’s broken,” Shay said. She’d begun to pace. “Could she fight?”

Inna scratched his ear. He always got itchy when he was nervous — something that normally amused Rede, but she didn’t have it in her to laugh. “She didn’t know how, but she definitely would’ve tried,” he insisted.

“So there should be signs of a struggle,” Shay mused.

“She could have been threatened,” said Mara.

“Threats aren’t really Ducky’s style,” said Shay. “He skips straight to the action.”

“Maybe it wasn’t him, then,” Inna suggested, though his tone betrayed his doubt.

“Who else would come for her?” Rede asked.

“Maybe it was someone she knew,” Shay added.

“We don’t know anyone,” said Rede, her tone unexpectedly bitter. “I’ve told you a billion times, Lacey did all the talking.”

“You’re sure there wasn’t anyone she would have recognized?” Shay pressed. “Did she ever talk to old friends? Regular clients? Supply vendors?”

“I handle the food and supply stuff,” Mara said. “And our regulars know not to come too close the Barn. Don’t want us to mistake them for a trespasser.”

The five looked at each other in silence.

“Police?” Thanh suggested.

Shay stopped pacing. “Police,” she repeated thoughtfully.

Rede bit her lip. Officers definitely knew not to make noise, and Mimi wouldn’t have fought. Lacey had probably told them where the team lived, too — she’d been just as close with them as she had been with the jackers, and she’d worked out some sort of protection agreement with them, though Rede couldn’t remember the details exactly. If they knew what was going on, it wouldn’t have been unreasonable for them to swing by and convince Mimi to let them take her somewhere safe. The scenario wasn’t plausible, but it made more sense than anything else Rede could think of.

“Okay,” Thanh said again, this time with certainty. “Let’s head the station.”