“No,” I said, squirming into the huge T-shirt. “It’s a big improvement.”

“You sure you’re all right? You haven’t been… assaulted?”

I pushed my hair out of my face and looked up at the officer’s shadowy face. His concern came across as genuine. “No, I’m not hurt, just a little lost.”

My stomach grumbled and cramped again. I pulled a face, and the ranger noted my discomfort. “Listen, why don’t I take you to the ranger station?” he said. “I’ve got to fill out an incident report. We’ll get you some coffee and something to eat, and you can tell me what happened.”

“An incident report?” I said, following the ranger to his truck. Reports meant evidence of my whereabouts. It meant paper trails and clues for anyone who was looking. Oh yes, I had watched those Jason Bourne movies with Mani. Maybe Helen Locke wasn’t the CIA or DHS, but then again, maybe she was worse.

The ranger opened the truck door for me, and I climbed into the vinyl seat. “It’s just a technicality. I radioed in that I was making a stop for a, um, distressed pedestrian. They’ll expect paperwork to back it up. Make sure I’m not out here goofing off. I’ll need to get a statement from you.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Could this night get any worse?”

“I don’t know, ma’am,” he said. “But if I were you, I’d probably be afraid to ask.”

Ranger Terrence Holt poured me a mug of coffee. I cupped it in my hands and imagined the pleasure of soaking in a giant pot of the stuff. He and I had introduced ourselves after settling at the ranger station, and he insisted I call him Terrence. I told him I was Sabrina Moody—a random and fake name I thought I could remember long enough to get through this interview—and prayed that doing so wouldn’t turn around and bite me in the rear.

After finding me a pair of passably clean sweats from a lost-and-found bin and a dry towel for my damp hair, Terrence set a bowl of steaming carbs—microwaved ramen noodles—before me and ordered me to eat. He studied me as I piled food into my mouth, but I didn’t mind him watching. I was so hungry I didn’t care about much of anything except filling the hollow place in my belly.

“So,” Terrence said as he took a seat across from me at the table. “You’re still going to insist you don’t know how you came to be wandering around the park in the middle of the night, disrobed and soaking wet.”

I shook my head. “Maybe I bumped my head. Got a concussion.”

A muscle in his jaw worked, but otherwise he appeared unimpressed. “You’re going to try to tell me you were skinny-dipping and you, what? Knocked your head on a rock?”

“Sounds feasible to me.”

Terrence grunted disagreeably. “No way you were swimming out there at night. Not this time of year. Not without catching hypothermia. If you do have a concussion, then we need to get you to a hospital and get you checked out.”

I forked up a wad of noodles and shook my head. “No hospital.”

“Sabrina, I can call in another officer, a woman, if you’d feel more comfortable.”

“No,” I said, meeting his gaze. Terrence was a young man, probably close to my age. He looked uncomfortable, and I guessed he spent more time checking fishing licenses than dealing with difficult situations like mine. I set my jaw and leaned forward. “I know what you’re thinking, and that’s not what happened.”

“Then tell me what did happen.”

What could I say? I was a terrible liar, and the truth was even more unbelievable than any story I could make up on a whim. “I don’t know,” I said.

Terrence huffed and frowned at me. “That’s your story and you’re sticking to it?”

Figuring his question was mostly rhetorical, I refrained from answering and slurped at the broth in my bowl. Terrence watched me for another few moments of awkward silence, then he exhaled and looked away. He sipped his coffee and stared, eyes unfocused, at something behind me.

“Where am I, exactly?” I said in an effort to change the subject and ease the stifling tension between us. I figured I had wound up at some campground on the other side of Lake Oneida. Maybe I could get Terrence to drop me off at the cabin so I could grab some clothes and figure out what had happened after I lost consciousness. Where was Skyla? My heart thumped a heavy bass beat of despair. Had she survived?

Terrence’s brows drew down. “Lake Norman State Park.”

I froze, fork halfway to my mouth, noodles dangling into my bowl. Only then did I notice the patch on his uniform, the one that said North Carolina State Parks. “W-where?” I stuttered.

“Lake Norman. You know where that is right?”

Lake Norman was virtually my back yard. I shuddered. How the hell had I managed the trip from Oneida Lake to Lake Norman with no memory of it? “What day is it?”

“It’s Sunday. Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you need to get X-rays. A CAT scan or something.”

I assured him I was fine. Actually, I was far from okay, but it was nothing a doctor could fix.

“We got a report of fireworks near the boat dock,” Terrence said. “You don’t know anything about that, do you? It’s why I was out on patrol that late. A local called in and said they saw bright lights, a roman candle or something.”

I choked on a noodle and coughed until my air passage cleared. “Nope. No idea.”

Again, Terrence frowned and huffed a sound of disbelief.

My stomach growled, insisting I needed to eat for at least a week straight before it would be satisfied. I shrugged at Terrence’s skeptical stare and shoved another wad of noodles into my mouth. It was a duel, a showdown at the Lake Norman ranger station. Terrence was armed with obstinate rectitude, and I carried a bowl filled with two packets of Maruchan, lime chili shrimp flavor. This standoff could last a while.

Terrence narrowed his eyes and watched me swallow and then stuff another knot of ramen between my lips. Take a hint, dude. I’m not going to talk. He must have understood because he sucked in a deep breath, exhaled, and pushed away from the table. “Sabrina, if you’re not going to tell me anything else, then I guess we need to get you home. You don’t have a car parked around here somewhere, do you?”

I held up a finger, finished chewing, swallowed, and then said, “I don’t think so.”

“Is there someone you can call?”

I blanched at the thought of calling my mom and dad. How was I supposed to explain this? I never called them after Thorin returned my cell phone to me at the Aerie. I was too busy having prophetic dreams, running for my life, and apparently, turning into shooting stars. “What’s today’s date?” I asked.

Terrence looked at his watch. “It’s after midnight, so, it’s technically the first.”

“The first? The first of…?”

Terrence’s brow wrinkled as he likely considered my mental stability again. “November.”

My jaw fell open. It had been the end of August when I first went to Alaska. It was almost October when I left the Aerie heading for Lake Oneida with Skyla and the Valkyries. That meant I spent a month in my state as something other.

Mom and Dad—oh, God, they must think I’m dead. They must be out of their minds by now. How am I supposed to explain this to them? Maybe Thorin had continued to cover for my absence, but after this much time, what could he say that my parents would possibly believe? Most likely, Thorin and the others thought I was dead, too.

“It’s Halloween,” Terrence said, oblivious to my astonishment. “We don’t get trick-or-treaters out here, unless we count you.” His eyes sparkled, and he bit his lip against a smile. “Don’t know if you’re a treat or a trick, yet, though.”

I laughed and tried to shake off my sudden lightheadedness. “I don’t feel like any sort of treat, and if it’s a trick, then I think the joke is on me.”

“You didn’t tell me who I could call to come get you.”

Besides my parents and a couple of cousins, I had only a few other friends, but none were the sort I wanted to call in for a rescue under these circumstances.

Terrence’s brows arched. “Wow, I didn’t think that would be such a hard question. Don’t you have a boyfriend or something?”

I shook my head and grimaced. “No boyfriend. Anyone else I could call would be… well, it would be weird having to explain this.”

“Do you live somewhere nearby?”

“Yes. Just a few miles down the road.”