by Rita Herron
“It’s best, Ellie,” he said quietly. “Being sheriff is about politics as much as police work. You’re constantly in the limelight and under pressure.”
Ellie crossed her arms. “You don’t think I can cut it because I’m a woman?”
Her mother laid a manicured hand on Ellie’s arm. “Honey, elections bring out the ghosts in people’s closets. Word might spread about your therapy sessions when you were younger. You know how folks in small towns gossip.” She pursed her lips. “You don’t want them to find out about your fear of the dark. And the… hallucinations.”
Ellie gaped at her in stunned silence. How dare she say that in front of Bryce? And Vera was the one who didn’t want anyone to think her daughter was unstable. God forbid a child of Vera Reeves was the hot topic of the rumor mill.
“A sheriff has to instill confidence in the people he represents,” Bryce added.
Ellie forced a lethal calm to her voice. “That was years ago. I was only a child, Mother, and traumatized from being lost in the woods that time.” Granted, she still slept with the light on—although she wasn’t about to admit that…
“It would still come out,” her father said. “And you would get hurt, El. Trust me, stick to your job, and let Bryce run the county.”
“Are you working the Cornbread Festival in town this week?” her mother chirped. “Tourists are already flocking in. There’ll be arts and crafts booths, food trucks, face painting and one of those jumpy houses for the children.” She clapped her hands together. “And the Stitchin’ Sisters have a special display of their cross-stitch designs and quilts. Bernice at the bakery is even making her homemade fried pies and cinnamon rolls. And there are going to be dozens of varieties of cornbread.”
Just what her mother wanted; for her to work small town security details. It seemed strange to Ellie to be celebrating cornbread recipes. But there was an occasion for everything in the mountains. Vera embraced the almost weekly fall and spring festivals which seemed to draw tourists. She insisted they brought in revenue for the fledgling little communities and celebrated the southern way of life.
Ellie, on the other hand, was drawn to mind and word puzzles, maps, and exploring the land. Her father had taken her camping, fishing and hiking and taught her to shoot when she was twelve.
She’d admired her father’s toughness and dedication to protecting the residents of Bluff County, which encompassed several small towns along the AT. Stony Gap, where her parents lived, housed the sheriff’s office, and Ellie worked at the police department in the neighboring town of Crooked Creek, only fifteen miles away.
Police work was a better fit for her than homemaking. The only fit for her.
But if Bryce was sheriff, she’d technically be working for him. She wanted to throw up at the thought.
“But Dad—”
“My decision is made,” he replied, his voice curt. “I won’t change my mind.”
“It is a man’s world, Ellie,” her mother said. “It’s time you accept it.”
Sympathy for her mother mingled with bitter disappointment. Her mother actually believed what she said. She’d made a good home for them. She was a supportive wife. But she didn’t understand that Ellie was different.
“Not anymore, Mom,” Ellie said, her anger bleeding through. “Not anymore.”
She removed the compass her father had given her from her pocket and thrust it toward him. “You can have this back now. From now on, I’ll find my own way.”
Betrayal bubbled inside her as she turned and strode down the hall. The gallery of family photos in the foyer mocked her. All the holiday dinners and celebrations. The trips with her father as they hiked and camped along the AT.
She shoved open the front door, slammed it behind her and jogged down the porch steps. Tears stung her eyes as she climbed into her Jeep, but she brushed them away and floored the engine, more gravel flying as she roared down the driveway.
Damn it.
How could she work under Bryce Waters?
She punched the gas and raced toward the open farmland outside of town. Driving fast had become her tension release. Just as she was reaching eighty and flying toward Haints, the bar overlooking the graveyard where a lot of cops and law enforcement liked to hang, her cell phone buzzed. If it was her father, she’d ignore it.
She glanced at the screen, and saw her boss’s name flashing.
Cursing, she pulled over and braced herself for another tirade, fumbled to set up her handsfree, then answered. “Yeah.”
“A little girl has gone missing on the trail,” Captain Hale said. “Seven years old. Name is Penny Matthews. Ranger McClain is with the family. Get over there pronto.”
Ranger McClain—Cord—worked with the Search and Rescue division of FEMA – the Federal Emergency Management Agency – and the National Park Service. The NPS had jurisdiction over the AT, and coordinated with local law enforcement agencies across the 2200-mile trail; fourteen states from Georgia to Maine.
“Copy that.”
Ellie’s heart hammered. The endless miles of forests, rugged terrain, knife-edge ridges, uneven land, overhangs and steep drop-offs were treacherous. So many places a little girl might fall. So many places she might never be found. There were also wild animals that might prey on a helpless child. Ellie’s heart pounded even harder at another thought.
What about human predators?
3.
The wind picked up, rattling the windows of Ellie’s Jeep as she raced toward the park to meet Cord. Noting the storm clouds gathering on the horizon, she flipped on the news.
“This is Cara Soronto, Eleven Alive meteorologist, with an update on our winter storm advisory. We’re now tracking the latest snowstorm along the eastern coast, traveling all the way from New York to Georgia. Folks are calling this one Tempest for its violent winds and bitter cold. Within the next forty-eight hours, expect high winds up to fifty miles per hour and the wind chill to dip into the subzero range. Rain will turn to sleet then heavy snowfall, which could create whiteout conditions.” She paused. “Brace yourself, people. We haven’t seen anything like this in years.”
Ellie’s stomach knotted. A child was missing, and a vicious storm was on the way? They had to find this little girl fast.
Even without a storm bearing down, the Appalachian Trail was dangerous. Each year at the beginning of March, hundreds of adventure seekers set out to conquer the 2000 miles from Georgia to Maine. But the truth was that most weren’t mentally or physically prepared for the unforgiving conditions, isolation, and countless obstacles along the way, never making it to the finish line.
“What time was the child reported missing?” she asked her boss, dragging her thoughts away from the worst possible outcome.
“Timing’s a little sketchy, and something you should narrow down,” Captain Hale replied. “Parents thought she just wandered off. Looked for some time before they called for help.”
“So, it’s possible she’s been gone for a while.” Or that the parents were lying. Covering an accident or a crime, waiting to call because they’d hurt their daughter and needed time to hide the evidence.
Don’t go there yet. People get lost on the trail all the time.
“Exactly,” Captain Hale said. “Ranger McClain organized a search party as soon as he was alerted. They’ve been combing the woods ever since, but so far nothing.”
Every hour that passed lessened their chance of finding Penny alive. If a predator had abducted her, they could be getting farther away.
Ellie forced the images away. She had to think positive. Cord might be mysterious and a loner, but he was a pro. He knew these woods inside and out. Maybe even better than her father did. She ignored the wrench in her stomach at the thought of his betrayal.
“One more thing, Detective Reeves,” Captain Hale said. “The Matthews family live in Crooked Creek, but this happened between us and Stony Gap, so I want you to act as liaison between our two police departments.”
Elli
e’s stomach began to churn. Her gut instinct was to insist she couldn’t work with her father or his deputy right now.
But a little girl’s life was hanging in the balance.
She’d have to suck it up. Keep it professional. They’d find Penny then go their separate ways.
“I’m issuing an AMBER alert,” Captain Hale said. “Let’s hope the media can get this in the evening bulletins. The clock’s ticking.”
Ellie glanced at the clock instinctively. She hung up and pressed the accelerator.
4.
Adrenaline spiking, Ellie pulled into the lot for Crooked Creek Park, snagging her camera as she climbed from the Jeep. The chill in the air cut through her, making her pull her coat up around her neck. The dark storm clouds were gathering, rumbling and ominous.
When she’d gotten lost as a child, she’d thought the spiny branches resembled skeletal fingers reaching out to snatch her. She’d seen monsters hiding in between the pines and oaks.
Today that same kind of suffocating fear pressed against her chest.
Except today she wasn’t afraid for herself, but for the lost little girl.
Voices drifted from the woods, a woman’s anguished cry dragging Ellie back to the present.
Penny’s mother.
Sympathy surfaced, but she forced herself to harden. Despite this tragedy, she had a job to do and that meant interrogating the parents. Asking questions they might not want to answer.
But that didn’t matter. Getting the truth was the only thing that did.
Through a clearing ahead, she spotted Cord standing near a plaid picnic blanket which he’d roped off and secured while he coordinated with search teams.
The search and rescue dogs were there waiting, two trained handlers gripping their leashes.
A slender brunette, who looked about forty years old, sat on a boulder, sobbing into her hands. A tall man with messy, muddy-colored hair paced in front of her, his jeans and boots dirty, sweat trickling down the side of his face. SAR—search and rescue volunteers who assisted in emergencies—had brought a cooler filled with bottled water. The man she pegged as Penny’s father grabbed one and guzzled it.
Cord’s smoky gaze skated over her as she approached. He was handsome in a brooding, intense kind of way. Shaggy, unkempt dark brown hair. Strong wide jaw. High cheekbones. A jagged scar ran along his temple and into his hair. His body was honed, muscles galore. Not a man of words, but one of action. His rugged appearance, bronzed skin, North Face jacket, and calloused hands made it obvious that he thrived in the wilderness.
Occasionally she read lust in his eyes, and memories of the one night they’d spent together before she’d left for the academy. Other times he was so brusque she thought he was angry at her, although she didn’t have a clue why.
Still, she considered him a friend. No one knew the trail better than Cord. He’d spent his teenage years living in these mountains, even though he refused to talk about that time.
He had no family that she knew of. No sense that he wanted one either.
She didn’t have time to ponder those questions now, though. “Have you found anything? Any signs where the little girl might be?” Ellie asked.
Scowling, Cord shook his head.
She gestured toward the parents. “What’s your take on them?”
“Verdict’s still out. Mother hasn’t stopped crying. Father goes from being angry to distraught and back again. He combed the woods for a while before calling for help. By the time I arrived, they were both practically hysterical.”
“I’ll talk to them then look around.” Ellie glanced at the dogs. “Have they been out yet?”
“No, canines just arrived. I asked the mother if she had any clothing or a toy, something of Penny’s, that we could let the dogs sniff.” He gestured toward the woman, who clutched a pink crocheted blanket to her cheek. “So far, she hasn’t wanted to give it up though. Said it’s her little girl’s lovey.”
Children did get attached to things. Not a fan of dolls as a child, Ellie had a stuffed orange fox she’d carried with her everywhere, even on her camping trips. She’d pretended it was real and would ward off a bear attack. Foxy still held a special place on the shelf beside her bed.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she replied.
Cord pointed toward a wooden board where he’d tacked maps of the mountains. “We’ve searched a five-mile radius, but we need to expand. Your father’s on his way. He can help with that.”
A fresh wave of pain washed over Ellie at the mention of her father. But Randall Reeves had worked and lived in Bluff County for over twenty years. As far as knowing the area, he and Cord were their two best assets.
Pushing aside her hurt, she introduced herself to the parents. Mrs. Matthews asked her to call them by first names, Susan and Stan.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” the mother said in a choked whisper. “We were having such a nice day, and then suddenly… she was just gone.”
Was she?
Various scenarios played through Ellie’s head like a horror movie. The child had run away. Gotten lost. Was hiding out in the woods.
Then her mind went to the more nefarious possibilities. The little girl had been kidnapped. Sexually assaulted. Killed.
She braced herself to remain objective. Hard to do when a child was involved, but necessary to be effective. Her job was to find Penny Matthews, even if she had to step on a few toes to do so.
“I understand this is a difficult time,” Ellie said in a sympathetic tone. “And I know you’re frightened. But we’re going to do everything in our power to find your daughter.”
Fresh tears fell from Susan’s eyes. Stan heaved a labored breath. “We’ve looked everywhere. How far can a little girl go on foot by herself?”
Good question. Another reason they needed to nail down the correct timeline. “Walk me through your day. Tell me everything that happened.”
“We’ve already been through this,” Stan snapped.
His wife gently touched his arm. “Honey, she’s just trying to help.”
“Then she should start looking for Penny!” he bellowed.
Cord’s gaze shot to her, silently asking if she needed backup, but she shook her head. She could handle the situation.
“I realize you’re frustrated, but please bear with me,” Ellie said. “We have teams looking for Penny. It’s important I get a clear picture of your day and your family life. Even the smallest detail could be significant.”
The father shifted onto the balls of his feet. His wife gave a wary nod.
Ellie adopted a calming tone. Winning the couple’s trust was key to convincing them to confide in her. Or to catching them in a lie. “I assure you that Ranger McClain is the most experienced tracker in the area.” She gestured toward the baby blanket. “May I give that to the crew now? It’s obviously special to you, but it might be helpful in tracking Penny’s scent.”
Susan wiped at her damp cheeks, then pushed the blanket toward Ellie. “I would like it back though. Please. I crocheted it for her when I was pregnant.”
“Of course.” Ellie offered her an understanding smile, then motioned to Cord, who carried the blanket to the handlers. One of them knelt, allowing the dogs to sniff it. A second later, the animals put their noses to the ground and set off on the trail.
“Now—” she said, turning back to the couple— “let’s start with this morning.”
The mother seemed to visibly pull herself together. “Please, Stan,” she said, “let’s talk to her. Maybe it will help. I… want my little girl home…”
Ellie’s heart squeezed. The raw anguish in the woman’s voice was real.
Of course, that wasn’t proof that the mother didn’t know what had happened to her daughter. Or that either of the parents weren’t complicit. It simply meant that if there had been an accident or if they had somehow hurt Penny, guilt was setting in.
5.
Ellie studied the couple’s body language. They sa
t untouching, barely looking at one another. Was it a telltale sign that they weren’t close, or that something had happened, and they were trying to cover their tracks?
“Do you have a photograph of Penny?” Ellie asked the mother.
Susan smiled. “On my phone, but I forgot it and left it at home.”
“I have one.” The father accessed his photographs and offered his cell to Ellie.
Dozens of candid shots of their daughter filled the screen.
Deja vu struck Ellie. The soft blonde curls and gap-toothed smile reminded her of another child… Mae.
God. Her breath caught. She hadn’t thought about Mae in a long time.
“Detective?” Susan’s whisper dragged her back to the present, and she studied the pictures. Penny in a princess costume holding a plastic pumpkin full of Halloween candy. Penny at the bus stop on the first day of school with her oversized backpack. Penny climbing a tree. Penny hugging a yellow teddy bear to her as she swung back and forth in a tire swing.
“She’s precious.” Fear pulsed through Ellie at the thought of what might be happening to the little girl. “What was she wearing today?”
Susan twisted her fingers together. “Her pink t-shirt with the unicorn on it. She got it for Christmas. And she had on black leggings and neon-pink tennis shoes.”
“How about a jacket or hat?”
Susan shook her head. “She threw her jacket off and left it over there.” She pointed to a bright purple hoodie, then her expression wilted again. Taking her husband’s phone, she ran a finger over her daughter’s face. “She’s my baby. I… can’t lose her.”
“We’ll do everything possible to bring her home,” Ellie assured her, carefully avoiding promises she might not be able to keep. “Susan, what happened this morning?”
Penny’s mother clutched the phone as if the pictures physically connected her to her daughter. “I made pancakes for breakfast,” Susan said softly. “Chocolate chip funny face ones. It’s Penny’s favorite.” Her voice cracked.