My dad had driven me to the parking lot. He was joining us in the search, not just because he’s the boy scout troop leader, but also because he’s a park ranger and knows this park better than most.

“Son, I hope you know that I’m proud of you.” I looked up when he said this and caught eyes with him in the rearview mirror.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” I shifted uncomfortably.

“I never became an eagle scout, let alone at sixteen years old. That’s pretty cool,” he trailed off, his warm expression chilling as we pulled into the parking lot. The red and blue lights shone harshly on his face.