Doing It Over (A Most Likely to Novel Book 1)

by Catherine Bybee

  The barking of dogs kept her jogging until she rounded the front of the inn.

  Cars were everywhere. Two more squad cars, both from neighboring towns, were tossed into the mix. The sheer mass of them brought home the magnitude of her missing daughter.

  Miss Gina saw them first and called into the house for Jo.

  “How you holding up?” Miss Gina asked.

  Melanie didn’t trust herself to speak.

  Miss Gina lowered her head. “I should have kept a better eye on her.”

  Melanie shot a hand in the air. “No. This is not your fault.”

  “If I had—”

  She jumped right up into her friend’s face. “This is not your fault!”

  Melanie pushed past Miss Gina, saw Wyatt from the corner of her eye.

  It’s my fault.

  “Mel?”

  Jo stood with two other uniformed officers, people Mel didn’t recognize.

  “That was quick.” Jo wasted little time introducing the dog handlers.

  “What we need is something of Hope’s that has her scent on it.”

  “Like a sweater?”

  “Only if it’s seldom washed. Stuffed animals, favorite blanket . . . that kind of thing is better.”

  She ran upstairs and dived for the bed, found a favored stuffed toy, then searched a drawer for a ratty baby blanket that Hope often slept with, but always put away in the morning. Someone had teased her about it the year before when they lived in Bakersfield, and now Hope hid the thing and didn’t talk about it.

  Melanie buried her face in it and sucked in a deep breath. It smelled like her daughter.

  She shook her head and jogged to Jo’s side before shoving the items into her friend’s hands.

  Jo turned and gave them to the men at her side.

  “Perfect.”

  Both officers had to be in their forties, one a little thicker than the other. They both had kind smiles and faces that didn’t tell her a thing. “We’ll find her, Mrs. Bartlett.”

  “It’s Miss.”

  The officer on her right—she’d already forgotten his name—nodded and walked from the room.

  Wyatt walked in, a bottle of water in his hand. “Here.”

  She started to shake her head.

  “Melanie.” He thrust it into her hand.

  “Fine.” She took it from him and swallowed half the bottle in one gulp before putting the lid back on.

  “I should go with them,” Melanie told Jo.

  “You should rest for a minute, catch your breath.”

  Melanie ignored her friend and turned to leave. She wasn’t going to rest until Hope was back in her arms.

  “Mel!” Jo attempted to stop her.

  Melanie lifted her hand, middle finger in the air, and continued out the door.

  Wyatt fell into step beside her.

  “Are you going to tell me to rest?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  She offered him a passing glance. “Good.”

  “Officer Maaco?” Wyatt called out to the man pushing Hope’s blanket into the nose of a German shepherd.

  Maaco passed a look between the two of them with understanding.

  “Bella is one of the best, Miss Bartlett. Since your daughter lives here, she might explore the grounds for a little bit, but she’ll catch Hope’s recent scent.”

  “Okay.” Not okay . . . none of this is okay. The desperation of the day started to weigh in as Bella sniffed around the places Hope usually played. It seemed the dog chased her tail and spun in circles.

  Melanie clenched her hands into tight fists and tried to wait.

  Bella, and her counterpart, Fisher, both headed off in the same direction at nearly the same time.

  The direction they headed was entirely opposite of what Melanie expected.

  The dogs went north, leaving behind the south woods they had been searching.

  “Where are they going?”

  “Following a scent, ma’am.”

  It was time for Melanie to turn a full circle. “We never walk this way.”

  Bella ran and Maaco followed. “She did today, Miss Bartlett.”

  Melanie and Wyatt jogged to keep up.

  Maaco called into his radio, “The dogs found a scent, northwest.”

  Jo’s voice screeched over the line. “Damn, all right . . . moving reinforcements your direction.”

  “Copy.”

  Wyatt kept pace beside her. His eyes scanned the landscape in silence, his jaw tight.

  They had to be a half a mile from the inn when the dogs split in two directions.

  “What the—?”

  “They might double back.”

  Melanie stared into Wyatt’s understanding eyes. “I’ll go with him,” he said, nodding toward the second K-9.

  She bit her lip, nodded, and followed Bella.

  Fifteen minutes later, a call came in to the radio.

  “We have something.”

  Maaco stopped midstride and Melanie held her handset tight. “What?”

  “Her sweater. We found Hope’s sweater.”

  “Is she in it?” There was a pause. Pain gripped her heart. “Is she in it?”

  Wyatt’s voice replied. “No, baby . . . she’s not. We’re still looking.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It was an hour until dusk. The media had shown up once the Amber Alert had been issued, and according to Jo, Nathan had been notified of Hope’s disappearance.

  Melanie never felt so hopeless in all her life.

  The search concentrated on the area where they’d found Hope’s sweater. Faces she hadn’t seen in years popped in front of her, encouraging her . . . then took their posts to search.

  Even Zane showed up with Zoe’s mom to help. Zanya stayed behind at the inn preparing food for the volunteers who checked in every couple of hours for food and water.

  The FBI was en route, which made Melanie feel equal parts crazed and hopeful. Much as she loved and trusted Jo, her exposure to missing persons wasn’t vast.

  Still the search was impressive.

  Wyatt never left her side. Never suggested she slow down or stop. He’d hand her water, shove something in her hands to eat during the search . . . but he didn’t falter one step.

  Once it was apparent that Hope’s sweater wasn’t anywhere near her daughter, Melanie started back in the direction she’d been searching with Bella before they’d been called away. Search parties tightened up to look for any signs of Hope’s recent presence, and not just the girl.

  It never occurred to Melanie that they’d find a piece of her. Even a sweater. Now the possibilities of finding something other than her entire daughter threatened her sanity.

  She was cold, shivering under the oversize coat Wyatt had placed over her shoulders at some point in the cool day. Every muscle in her body ached, and her head felt as if it were splitting in two under the weight of it all.

  Melanie did what any mother would . . . she pushed on.

  The sun kept a steady pace toward the horizon no matter how much Melanie willed it to stay high.

  “This is about where we were when they found the sweater.”

  Maaco agreed with a nod.

  The handler knelt next to Bella for the hundredth time that day, said a few things to his dog while holding Hope’s baby blanket.

  “C’mon, Bella,” Melanie heard Wyatt say at her side.

  A half a dozen volunteers stood beside them, all focused on the K-9.

  Bella ran in a couple of circles before heading in a western direction.

  “Isn’t that the way we came the first time?” Melanie asked.

  Wyatt was the only one listening to her. “Maybe Hope turned around.”

  By now, Jo was beside them, no longer ab
le to stay behind and direct traffic. “Spread out,” she told those around her. “Same procedure. Anything, no matter how small.”

  A mumbling of voices agreed and the group took spaces beside each other, some twenty to thirty feet apart, all of them headed in the same general direction of Bella’s lead.

  It wasn’t until the hillside started a steep descent that the team slowed its pace.

  Melanie knew the hill would eventually find its way to a cliff, which was why this route was off-limits for Hope to explore. At the bottom of the cliff was a ravine, but it was far too dangerous for those with only two legs to traverse. Hope, being the rule follower that she was, would never have ventured here on her own.

  And that scared Melanie even more.

  While the others held back, she followed Bella, Maaco, and Jo down the hill. Wyatt held her hand to keep her from falling. At some point, Bella disappeared and Melanie panicked.

  When the dog started to bark and Maaco took that as a sign to move faster, Melanie followed. At some point, she shook off Wyatt’s hand and damn near crawled on all fours to keep herself upright.

  Maaco reached Bella behind a rock that protruded from the side of the cliff. The obsessive barking shot Melanie’s heart rate higher.

  She scrambled faster, felt a sharp rock cut the palm of her hand when the ground beneath her feet let loose and had her gripping the side of the hill to keep from tumbling down.

  “Oh, God!” Maaco shouted over the bark.

  Melanie froze.

  “She’s here!”

  Every nerve ending in Melanie’s body stood at sharp attention, waiting for his next words.

  “Alive.”

  Tears were close, but she didn’t acknowledge them as she followed Maaco’s voice. Once she caught sight of Bella, Maaco looked uphill, waved both hands in the air. “Stop . . . stop!”

  She couldn’t see her. Couldn’t see her daughter behind the rock.

  “It’s unstable.”

  “Hope?” Melanie called out.

  “She’s out cold. Breathing. Nice and steady. Looks like she hit her head. Maybe a broken arm.”

  Jo rushed up beside Melanie and Wyatt, heard the last of Maaco’s words.

  “I need to see her.” Despite Maaco’s warning, Melanie started down the hill.

  Wyatt grasped her arm. “Don’t be reckless now. We found her, she’s safe.”

  Melanie looked to where her daughter lay and knew he was right.

  Jo called into the radio, “We found her. I repeat, we found her. We need medical. Head trauma . . . I want a helicopter.”

  “Late in the day for a chopper, Sheriff.”

  Melanie caught Jo’s eyes.

  “I don’t care. Make it happen.”

  It felt like forever to be so close and yet not see her daughter.

  Search and rescue were on them in minutes with pulleys and ropes. Everyone was moved to higher ground to keep them safe while the crew secured Hope into a basket and hoisted her to the top.

  Once there, Melanie rushed to her side.

  “Oh, sweetie. What happened to you?”

  Hope was still unconscious, a nasty bruise already had five shades of color on her forehead.

  Melanie leaned close, felt her daughter’s breath on her cheek, and kissed her. “Wake up, baby.”

  “We need to move her, Miss Bartlett,” one of the medics told her.

  Melanie gripped the side of the basket and didn’t let go. She’d never let go again.

  A helicopter was on standby in the center of the clearest point of Miss Gina’s lawn.

  Melanie vaguely caught the mass of people who watched from the side as someone pushed her into the helicopter and wrapped a seat belt across her lap.

  The blades of the chopper started to turn, the noise drowned out everything.

  Medics worked in frantic haste beside her daughter.

  Melanie felt the eyes of someone and lifted her head to see Wyatt staring.

  He lifted a hand as the helicopter pulled away from the ground.

  His fingers gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles.

  He’d controlled it . . . the urge . . . the need. After all, he was a professional now. People paid him to take care of their problems.

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have taken things as far as he had, but he had to prove to himself that he was in control.

  One deep, satisfying breath helped him release the wheel and run his hands over his thighs.

  He was in control.

  The police escort to the hospital in Eugene reduced the normally two-hour drive down to an hour and fifteen minutes.

  He’d attempted to text Melanie in hopes of an update, but didn’t receive a reply.

  The stress, pain, and yes, even guilt of the day should have made him want to fall into a heap on the floor of his truck, but instead, he drove behind Jo’s flashing lights as they pulled into the emergency room parking lot.

  “I’m going through the back,” Jo yelled as she ran from the car. “I’ll call you in the minute I can.”

  Jo disappeared through the glass doors of the ambulance bay.

  Wyatt ran a hand through his hair and proceeded into the busy lobby. It was after ten, children were everywhere, people sleeping in uncomfortable chairs with their knees tucked under them, heads rested against shoulders and walls. It smelled of illness and antiseptic.

  Ten minutes passed before Jo poked her head through a door he assumed led to the heart of the ER and waved him in.

  “How is she?”

  “Responding, according to Mel. Broken arm. The head scan showed a small bleed behind her ear, which probably kept her unconscious.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Jo shook her head. “She’s lucky we found her when we did. Her temperature was dropping, which wouldn’t have ended well.”

  “What was she doing out there, Jo?”

  Jo’s jaw physically tightened. “I don’t know. Between you and me, I don’t like it. Something feels completely off about this whole thing.”

  A nurse brushed past them with an armload of IV solutions.

  Wyatt moved out of her way and glanced around. “Where are they?”

  Jo nodded in the direction she started to walk. “Mel’s a wreck.”

  “I know.”

  Jo captured his arm. “No, she’s feeling guilty about being gone last night.”

  Yeah, he understood the feeling. As irrational as he knew it was . . . guilt weighed on him, too. “I know,” he repeated.

  The private glass doors of the bay opened and Wyatt felt as if someone punched him in the gut.

  Hope looked like a tiny wrapped bundle with wires and tubes running all over her little body. Melanie sat at her side, her hand holding Hope’s, her head lowered on the side of the bed.

  “Hey, darlin’,” he whispered.

  Melanie lifted her red, tear-filled gaze to his.

  He waited for an invitation, wasn’t sure there would be one.

  When she lifted her free hand to him, he stepped inside the room, knelt at her side, and wrapped her in his arms.

  And she cried.

  Soft, quiet tears until he felt her shaking with the effort to hold back the noise he knew was deep inside her soul.

  The scuffle of shoes had Wyatt glancing toward the door, where he saw Jo step outside the room.

  “It’s okay. She’s safe now.”

  Melanie kept sniffling as if attempting to hold back. “I’ve never been so scared.”

  “I know, honey . . . I know.” And he did. He leaned back and ran his thumb under her eyes to catch some of the moisture and tried to smile.

  “I should have come home. If I hadn’t spent the night—”

  “Darlin’, stop. You can’t blame yourself.”

>   “But—”

  The agony in her eyes spoke volumes. If he looked deep enough, he’d probably see the same depth of guilt in his own. “Shhh.” He placed his thumb over her lips and attempted a soft smile of understanding and support.

  Melanie offered half an attempt at a grin and returned her gaze toward her daughter.

  “What did the doctors say?” he asked as he pulled a second chair close to Hope’s side.

  “They called in a pediatric neurologist. But he isn’t here yet.”

  “Jo said something about bleeding.”

  Melanie nodded, kept her voice low. “Yeah, but they said it isn’t moving anything around inside, which is a good thing. When Hope woke up right after we got here, she didn’t make a lot of sense. The doctor said it wasn’t abnormal after the knock she’s suffered and the amount of time she’s been unconscious.”

  Hope twitched in her sleep but didn’t wake up.

  “Do they think she’s been out all this time?”

  “They can’t tell. We won’t know until she wakes up and makes sense. Even then we have to base the timeline on her memory, which might take some time to come back.”

  Wyatt covered the hand Melanie used to hold Hope’s.

  Their silence was interrupted by one of the nursing staff walking into the room. Her genuine smile and kind eyes gave him a passing feeling of comfort.

  She set some supplies down on a rolling table and moved about the room. “The orthopedic doctor is here to set and splint her arm,” she told them.

  “Is it gonna hurt her?” Melanie asked.

  The nurse squinted and sighed. “A little. The doctor will inject some pain meds in her arm, and with any luck, she won’t feel much after that.”

  “All right.” Melanie stood when a man wearing a suit walked into the room.

  “Mrs. Bartlett?”

  Melanie corrected the man, like Wyatt had noticed her doing repeatedly throughout the day. “It’s Miss.”

  He smiled. “I’m Doctor Johnson.”

  The doctor glanced between the two of them as he explained what he was going to do.

  As he spoke, he turned on a lighted box used to view X-rays and slid in what Wyatt assumed were Hope’s films. The break was clearly visible in her forearm, both bones crossed over each other in the wrong places.