The path to the river was dark and slick with mud.

I fell once, scraping my hands on the sharp gravel.

I got up and kept running.

I could hear the roar of the Hudson River in the distance.

The water was wild tonight, churning against the rocks.

I saw a light ahead.

It was a single flashlight beam, cutting through the trees near the water’s edge.

I slowed down, moving into the brush.

The pine needles muffled my steps.

The rain was so loud it drowned out any sound of my approach.

I reached the edge of the woods.

The old stone dock sat below me.

A large, black motorized launch was tied to the iron pilings.

Its engine was idling, a low rumble that vibrated through the stone.

Two men were on the dock.

One was holding a lantern.

The other was holding a small bundle wrapped in a yellow blanket.

My heart stopped.

It was Lila.

She was quiet, too quiet.

“Get her on board,” the man with the lantern said.

“The boss said to move now.”

“What about the others?” the second man asked.