Belvedere Castle. Murphy's Law at its finest — it couldn't have been somewhere close to one of the entries, no, Josh thought, running like a madman through the park. He'd double-parked next to the Natural History Museum and had no idea whether the car would still be there, once he went back with Emery, but if it got towed he'd deal with that tomorrow. Right now nothing was as important as finding Emery. The twisting feeling that had taken residence in the pit of his stomach from the moment he'd seen Emery on TV hadn't abated, leaving him nauseous.

He scanned the area surrounding the castle, but Emery was nowhere in sight. Mark had cost him too much time — of course Emery wasn't there anymore. The park was huge and he could be anywhere. Shoeless, clearly hurt, hungry and alone, on an autumn night that could have passed for winter.

Even if he climbed to the top of the castle to get a better view, it was too dark to help. Josh didn't stop — couldn't stop; a single moment might be the difference between finding Emery or losing him for good. He wouldn't get another chance. His chest hurt, a stabbing pain all the way to his throat that robbed him of breath and made his vision blurry.

Emery wouldn't have stayed on open ground once the reporter finally left. He'd have wanted to get away to where he couldn't be found again. But he couldn't have run - not if his gait on TV was any indication. How far could he have gotten like that in half an hour?

The Ramble. That had to be where he'd fled to. Alone, at night, Josh's mind kept repeating as he raced into the wooded area. An icy wind whipped his hair into his eyes, making him shiver despite his warm clothes and the physical exertion. Emery must be freezing, and here Josh was, wasting time with no clear direction in mind. He pulled his hood up and tightened it: he couldn't afford hair in his eyes right now.

The lamps were few and ever further apart, until there were none at all to provide the barest hint of light. It was pitch dark — Josh couldn't see his hand in front of his face. He fumbled with his phone to turn the flashlight on, managing not to drop it by sheer luck, and still the most he could see was the ground directly in front of him.

The Ramble was eerie at night, the cascading sound of the Gill the only comfort in a place where Josh couldn't see a soul, yet knew he wasn't alone. He'd never find him like this. Not if Emery didn't want to be found, and especially not if he didn't know Josh was looking for him. Abandoning common sense he left the path in a random direction, calling out his name.

Why hadn't he checked in on Emery when he heard about the trial? Yes, the way they'd left things hadn't been the best, but he'd known how Emery didn't have anyone else when they'd parted ways, after the funeral — why hadn't he done the decent thing and at least found out if he had a roof over his head?

It was so cold out here... If anything happened to Emery... No. He'd find him. Nothing else was an option. "Emery!"

A tree hit his left shoulder out of nowhere, pain blossoming and leaving him reeling from the impact. It was lucky his phone was in the other hand. Josh couldn't keep running without a destination; he had to think. Telling where he'd come from was impossible by now — he'd gotten turned around on the twists and turns, and barely knew up from down.

He stopped for a moment to draw air into his lungs, folding in on himself with one hand braced on his leg for support, wheezing. He was used to jogging every night, should have known how to control his breathing, but sprinting madly through Central Park, half-blind and sick with worry, made him struggle to catch his breath. "Emery! Emery, it's Josh. Winters, Josh Winters."

There were other people in these woods — Josh could feel their presence. One of them had to be Emery. Giving in to despair, he overcame the need for air as he bellowed at the top of his burning lungs, "Emery! Emery, where are you? EMERY! EMERY!"

A dry coughing sound from somewhere behind him made him turn, but he still couldn't see. He pointed his flashlight to the ground, moving it slightly upwards once it hit the ruined socks of another person. He didn't want to blind whoever it was, especially not if there was a chance it could be Emery.

The light revealed a pair of ugly sweatpants, and whatever brief flare of hope Josh had had was quashed. Emery wouldn't be caught dead wearing sweatpants. But then, "Be silent. This is not a place where you'd want to go yelling at night."