“Stay here. I’m going to go check the other side.” I tiptoe around the width of the wall, expecting to find the river swelling on the other side of the wire dam. Instead, the dry bed continues, littered with glass bottles in every shade of color, necklaces strung with ornate pendants, and an open metal chest flung on its back. About twenty yards upstream, another wall of silver wire extends the width of the river. Brown, frothy water pours around the edge on the lower bank and spills into the woods.
Across the basin, someone clears their throat. My gaze snaps forward. Dana is standing on the high side of the river, towering above me. My mind flashes back to the day my father died, the hope I felt when she came from seemingly out of the blue, riding along the edge of the river . . . how su
