by Julee Baker
Lake, arms on hips, shaking her head and chuckling softly, watched them go down the drive. Hawk came up behind her then and gently pulled her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Umm . . . Oh, yeah, Wildcat, I’ve been wanting to do this all morning.” He inhaled the clean, appealing scent of her s dark hair and nuzzled her ear, flipping her stomach and sending goosebumps clear down to her toes.
“Ummm . . . Careful Fire-man . . . your ribs . . .” She hesitated before relaxing back against him.
“Oh yeah—about the ribs. The good news is,” he turned her in his arms to face him, “we can do this.” He encompassed her in a firm hug. “The bad news, for me anyway, is that I can manage things around here again.” Guilty dimples appeared as he held her and brushed her hair back from her face.
“I thought you were hamming it up a bit lately.” Lake’s eyes danced at Hawk’s frown at being called out on his acting ability. “But, you know, I feel the same way,” she looked up at him. “I—”
He effectively ended her declaration with a kiss. The rest of their admissions took a couple of minutes and were completely wordless, leaving Lake much more breathless than words ever could have. Hawk pulled back with a satisfied smile.
She reached up and traced the dimple in his cheek.
“Something I’ve been wanted to do all morning.”
“We were supposed to put the time to good use.” Then, brushing a kiss across the tip of her nose, told her of his idea about them joining him for the Denver show.
Lake didn’t try to hide her enthusiasm. They discussed plans as they walked, hand in hand, down to the stream . . . and back. Lake was so happy; it took a few minutes for her to float back down to earth.
“What time is it?” she asked as they stepped onto the front porch steps.
“Ten forty-five.” He frowned and tapped absently at the watch face, then turned and peered down the lane. “Huh. It was what. . . a couple minutes to ten when they left?”
Lake’s gaze followed his, toward the main road. “Oh, you know River. I’m sure he’s asked her a thousand questions by now and had to snoop all over her place.” She couldn’t hide the note of anxiety that crept into her voice by the end of the sentence.
“You’re right. Just the same, let’s give them a quick call.”
Did Hawk want to ease her mind . . . or his own?
Relief, everything was fine. According to Monica, Lake’s assumption about River had been correct. He was in the bathroom just then, but he’d persuaded her to give him a tour around her house and yard. Lake laughed and nodded her head knowingly when Hawk relayed Monica’s side of the conversation.
“They should be headed back shortly.” He put his arms back around her. “Now, where were we?”
“We’ll be cooking lunch instead of breakfast.” She quipped. “But that’s okay. We can always warm up some meatloaf.” She giggled at Hawk’s groan. “And have coffee cake for dessert.”
His arms went around her and her lifted her off the porch floor and swung her in a circle half-laughing, half-groaning at her teasing about the prospect of eating more meatloaf, before setting her back down.
“It’s great having you here—and River, too.”
The smiling words spoken softly into her lips came just before the kiss. A sigh later, they parted.
Lake cleared her throat and stepped back, trying to steer the conversation to a topic that would keep them out of each other’s arms for a few minutes. She needed to catch her breath—and keep her senses about her.
“What’s your next project?” She looked toward the studio.
He grinned at her maneuver, and she was sure he had read her thoughts.
“I do have an idea I’m pursuing—in the planning stages, you understand,” he smiled warmly and winked. It was Lake’s turn to blush a little.
He grabbed her hand and chuckled, “C’mon. Let’s walk down to the studio.”
As they walked, Hawk asked about her next project, too. He loved the Snowshine on Shadow idea and expressed amazement at the photos he’d seen on her camera. It was food for the soul, getting jazzed by one another’s interest and encouragement—almost as good as being in the zone, during the actual creative process.
Lost in this warm cloud of emotion, Lake was a more than a little shocked when her peripheral vision caught the time on the wall clock in the studio.
“Twenty after eleven!?” A darkness crept over her mood. “I probably shouldn’t have let River go with Monica. I told him to behave himself. He’s probably driving her crazy with questions by now.” Lake stepped back from Hawk and pulled out her phone. “What’s Monica’s number?”
When there was no answer, Lake’s alarm bells blared—more so at Hawk’s expression. He tried calling also and moved outside toward his truck. Still no answer.
“Elle!” he yelled sharply, “C’mon girl. Let’s go for a ride.” Then to Lake, “Nice morning for a drive. Let’s take a drive over and see what’s keeping them.” Elle was already at the truck, waiting to hop in.
“Do you think everything’s all right?” Lake hurried to keep up with his stride—there was barely a trace of a limp left from his injury.
“More than likely. Let’s be on the safe side.”
Not much was said on the ride over. Lake repeatedly dialed Monica’s number—still no answer. No point in leaving another voicemail. What was going on? What could be keeping them? Didn’t Monica realize they would be worried? She would have to bite her tongue when she talked to Monica.
A scary question flooded Lake’s mind. Could someone have followed them? Monica’s place was so close, and everything had been so quiet lately, she’d thought a fifteen-minute trip with an adult, would be all right.
Shake it off, she told herself. She was probably just being paranoid.
As if he understood, Hawk reached a hand over and rubbed her knee, just for a moment. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out. They probably got sidetracked, you know River. And sometimes, the way this terrain runs, cell phones can be pretty iffy.”
“The call went to voice mail, Hawk. It made the connection,” she said flatly.
His only response—another reassuring rub to her knee.
Lake noticed their increased speed. Too much on these roads and it’d be a one-way thrill ride to the bottom of the valley. Hawk was pushing the envelope as much as he dared.
After ten minutes that seemed like an eternity, the Barnes place came into view. Lake jumped out of truck the before it skidded completely to a stop. Elle was hot on her heels as she raced up the front porch and rapped on the door.
“River. River!” Lake’s dread grew. “River? Monica?”
Nothing.
Hawk went to the far side of the porch, leaned over the railing, and peered around back.
“Her truck’s out back. Try the door.”
Unlocked.
“River? Monica?” Hawk hollered into the house as they searched the first floor.
With a desperate, sinking feeling, she grabbed Hawk’s arm. “Where are they?”
She let go his arm and spun round in distress, hands to her head. “I must have been crazy, letting him go. What was I thinking?”
Hawk put an arm behind her and moved them toward the door at the rear of the kitchen. “Let’s look out back,” he said, dialing his phone at the same time. “Sam. Thank God. Listen—we have a problem up here at the Barnes's place—”
Lake ran into the backyard. Nothing. She headed for the barn, Hawk a short distance behind. She was aware of his ongoing conversation with Sam as they searched the barn. Hawk said something about calling the team.
“They’re not here, Hawk. Oh, God, please . . .” Lake prayed and doubled forward trying not to be sick. Hands on her knees and she closed her eyes and tried to breathe. Think of what to do next.
Hawk rubbed a hand over his jaw and looked around. “Hopefully, he’s
just wandered off and is still nearby.” They walked outside the barn into the yard where Elle attracted their attention. She ran off barking and was now running back to them from the direction of the lane which they drove in on . . . with something in her mouth.
Lake froze at the sight. Hawk took River’s blue Cubs cap from Elle’s mouth. With a cry, she grabbed the cap from him and sank to her knees.
“What could have happened—that he deserted his Cubs cap?”
Hawk, now grim-faced, helped her up and took her to a bench outside the barn. He sat her down and told her to wait. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, but his voice was muffled by the rushing sound in her head. He walked a distance away, on his phone again. She slumped forward, arms and head on knees. All she could manage at that moment, was a continuation of her God, please, God, please, mental prayer-chant.
A small plane passed overhead. “GRRR.” Hawk told Lake. “Mike, one of our pilots happened to be at the airport. Got her right up. Said he’d take a look around. Sam and the guys are on their way. He’s bringing Slug. We’ll get both dogs working.”
They were watching the plane fly overhead, when, out of the trees at the side of her place stumbled a disheveled Monica Barnes.
“Monica!” He shouted.
Their eyes searched the hill behind her for River as they ran to her. She had a bump the size of a goose-egg on her forehead. Hawk picked her up. Lake ran a few feet past them, trying to spot River.
“Monica. What happened? Where’s River? Monica?”
“I . . . a . . .” Was all she managed to get out.
“I’m taking her inside. Be right back. Look around this area, but don’t go very far in.”
Lake, with Elle by her side, nodded and started searching and calling for River on the thickly forested hill. Hawk was back before she knew it.
“What happened? Did she say what happened?” Lake asked desperately.
“All she said was she told River he could wait on the porch while she got the pan from the kitchen and then a couple minutes later, she went out and he was gone.”
“He was gone? Just like that? He was gone?!” She gave an exasperated sigh. “That’s not River, Hawk. He wouldn’t do that. What was she doing out here—on this hillside? Why didn’t she call us?”
“She said she was looking for him and fell. Hit her head.” He frowned and looked at the ground around them. “Dropped her phone someplace—”
Lake looked at him, desperation in her eyes. “Wha—what now?”
His thumb rubbed at the blue cap he’d taken back from her. He considered. “We’ve got his cap. It has his scent. We’ll get Elle looking for him. And Sam and the some of the guys should be here in a few minutes. Sam’s bringing Slug. That bloodhound’s got an even better nose than Elle.” He pulled her in for a reassuring hug. “We’ll find him.”
Taking River’s cap, he squatted in front of the dog, instructing her to, “Find him. Yeah, you know River . . . that’s a girl . . . get a good whiff. Find River. Find River . . . Go. Find.”
With one, sharp bark, Elle ran down the hill into the yard and out along the lane. Then, she began running back and forth from Monica’s porch to a spot near the point on the lane where she picked up his cap. Hawk and Lake came down the hillside and stood in the drive a little way away from her.
“Find him Elle. Find River.”
Elle barked at him and ran the same pattern again. Hawk rubbed the dark growth on his jaw line, frowning at the dog.
“What does that mean? Hawk?” She tugged at his bicep. “Why is she just running back and forth there? Hawk! Is she confused? Hawk?”
“No—I don’t think so. That’s where she finds his scent.” He walked the path of the lane toward the main road and back, examining the ground.
Lake was busy trying to decipher his expression when flashing blue and red lights began dancing across his face. She looked toward the road as the sheriff’s car and a half-dozen assorted vehicles came up the lane.
Hawk waved them to stay back, away from the area Elle was designating. Sam, his big bloodhound Slug, and the rest of the guys made their way to Hawk.
Sam and Hawk looked at Elle and then each other.
“That’s it? That’s what she’s got?” Sam’s frown matched Hawk’s.
“Yeah.” Hawk shot a look at Sam. Lake knew it wasn’t good. “Let’s see what Slug can come up with.”
Sam’s dog did about the same thing, ending up not more than a foot away from where Elle stopped. Then, Slug woofed and ran a few feet further down the lane toward the trucks and the main road.
“Oh, dear God.” Lake whispered. “Does that mean what I think?”
Any reassurance offered by Hawk’s arm over her shoulders was nullified by his grim look and tone of voice when he’d addressed Sam.
“You need to bring Colter in. Now.”
“I’ve got Pat and Cal on that. But, word is he’s been in Kalispell all morning. We’re checking things out.”
“Yeah? What about that goon who paid Lake a visit?” He narrowed his look to Sam. “What about that guy?”
“That guy is Eddy Blake—an associate of Colter’s. Petty thief. Did time for assault down in Colorado a few years back.” He stared back at Hawk. “I have been on it, Hawk. But—from intimidation to actual kidnapping?” Sam shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense for Colter. It’s an escalation I wouldn’t think he’d want to chance.” Sam appraised the scene.
“You think he’s responsible for this?” Lake wrapped her arms around herself, tormented. “I should have never let River go. It’s my fault. Why did I ever—?”
“Lake. Stop. Stop,” Hawk repeated and held her, rubbing her arms. “That’s no good now. I thought it’d be okay too—remember? We’ve got to concentrate on finding River.” He looked around. “Why don’t you go in the house. See how Monica’s doing. Let us—we’re going to organize a search. We’ll figure out what to do next.”
Numb with worry, she nodded and stumbled off toward the house, leaving the lights and commotion going on behind her. What else could she do? She’d looked everywhere nearby.
She sat down heavily on the top porch step and, elbows on knees and face in hands, she concentrated. “Shepherd . . . find our lamb. Find our lost lamb. Help us find River,” Lake whispered the simple prayer over and over.
She didn’t know quite how long she sat there, but when she looked up, Hawk was there, taking her by the shoulders, urging her the rest of the way into the house. She sat down in the living room.
Monica held a cool pack on her forehead. The EMT that examined her said it didn’t appear to be anything serious—just a significant bump. Monica smiled and said she’d be fine.
She’d be fine. Fine?! How could she be fine? River was out there … somewhere.
Lake sat in silence with Monica, the activity outside the only noise. Lake’s gaze locked on a patch of light on the living room wall flashing blue, then red, then blue, then red, over and over and over and over . . .
FIFTEEN
Into the Light
A
plan was quickly devised. They would search the area, just in case the dogs had missed anything. It was unlikely, but everyone wanted to make sure they covered all the bases. Word came, via a call from Pat, that he and Cal had located Eddy Blake in a Kalispell bar and were bringing him in for questioning. Sam sped off to town to meet them, but left Slug to help with the search. Hawk checked on Lake and Monica, then headed out onto the surrounding hillsides with the others, leaving the place, disturbingly quiet.
Lake renewed her prayers and tried to keep her mind off what River must be feeling . . . or thinking . . . if he was scared . . . or hurt.
Monica seemed to be feeling better. Doing a lot better than Lake. She insisted on making tea for them while they waited. Lake couldn’t help thinking what a tough old bird she was. She supposed she had to be, living out here by herself all these years. All that had happened to h
er in her life. Losing her husband, then Joey.
Monica place two cups of chamomile tea on the coffee table in front of them.
“Here, drink this. It will comfort.” Monica pushed the teacup a little closer to Lake.
Lake tried a smile, but it died halfway to her lips.
“I know exactly how you’re feeling Lake . . . Believe me . . . Hawk sure looked sick. He looked as if he his own son was lost. He really cares for that boy, I can tell . . .”
If she was trying to comfort her, Lake thought, it wasn’t the best choice of words.
They sat and sipped the tea . . . and waited . . . and waited. All kinds of guilt washed over Lake. She should be out there. Next time Hawk called, she would insist on it.
The light was fading. It would be dark soon. The thought of River out there, alone in the dark . . . Her thoughts spun.
Monica got up off the couch. “Do you need some fresh air? Want to come out on the porch for a while? I sat on the porch a lot while they looked for Joey.”
Again . . . not helping . . . She wished Monica would keep her reflections of the past to herself. After all, that event had a bad outcome.
“No. Thanks. I just want to sit here . . . maybe in a few minutes.”
“The fresh air would do you good. I wish Hawk would come back down from the hill. He should really be here waiting with you,” she said and went out the front door and the sound of her footsteps receded in the distance, down the boards of the porch.
When would they hear anything? The last bit of light was fading. Aside from a call a couple hours ago to check on her—and insisting for Lake to stay put, she hadn’t heard anything more from Hawk. Or Sam. Or anyone.
A noise brought her thoughts back. Lake grabbed for her phone . . . But her phone wasn’t ringing . . . What in the . . . She looked around . . . the ringing continued, slightly muffled, but it was definitely a phone . . . Lake followed the noise to a denim jacket hanging on the hall tree by the door. It sounded like a phone. She reached in the pocket. A phone? Monica had dropped hers in the trees . . . Whose was this? Wasn’t this the jacket Monica was wearing?