Kaleidoscope Eyes

by Karen Ball

  Not to mention what it would do to Jed.

  A yelp escaped her when Dan’s fist shot out—and landed, with minimum impact—in the middle of Jed’s chest.

  “It will take more than words to fix this, Jed.”

  He didn’t flinch. “I know that.”

  Dan’s hand dropped to his side, and he nodded. “Good enough. For now.”

  Good enough?

  Annie stared at her brother, speechless. Good enough? Oh, no it wasn’t. Not by a long shot! And the very idea that Dan would think it galled her.

  Jed turned to her, but Annie halted anything he might have been about to say by spinning and stalking away.

  “Annie, please, wait.”

  She stopped but didn’t face him. Just spoke over her shoulder. “Kodi and I will be going out first thing in the morning. Be ready. And Jed?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t get in our way.”

  Silence. Then, “We won’t. I promise.”

  Well, that was something. She started toward the tent again, then realized she was alone. Kodi was nowhere to be seen. Annie scanned the near darkness, alarm prickling her—until she spotted the dog a few feet away.

  Sitting there. At Jed’s side.

  Annie’s eyes narrowed. “Kodi, come.”

  The shepherd looked up at Jed, then back to Annie.

  “Kodi!”

  A piteous whine met Annie’s harsh call, but the dog did as she was bid. Pushing to her feet, she cast one more pining look back at Jed, then slunk toward her mistress, like a deathrow inmate taking that last, long walk.

  When Kodi reached Annie’s side, she took hold of the dog’s collar and hustled her toward the tent. “Monster dog,” she muttered.

  First Jed. Then Dan. And now her own dog.

  Traitors, all.

  Well, at least there was one good thing about this stupid situation.

  There wasn’t anyone left to betray her.

  Jed was cold.

  So cold he was shaking.

  The irony was that it had nothing to do with the weather. No, what had him trembling, inside and out, was the sound of Annie’s voice as she cried out to God. He’d gone into the tent he and Andy were given, but after nearly two hours of lying there, staring into the unforgiving darkness, he finally got up and came outside.

  He’d been standing here for close to an hour. He told himself he’d chosen this spot beneath a tall evergreen because it gave him shelter if it started to rain or snow. But that was just blowing smoke.

  He came here because it was close to Annie’s tent. And for now, that was enough. Just … being close to her.

  He’d been staring up at the night sky, when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. His heart jumped when he saw who it was. He’d straightened, ready to go to Annie, beg her forgiveness, try to explain—but the sight of her slumping to the ground, then curling into a ball at the base of a tree stopped him in his tracks.

  As she sat there, knees drawn to her chest, her agony palpable, Jed fell back against the tree, grateful for something solid to hold him up.

  What had he done? How could he have used her the way he did? Lied? Deceived?

  How could he ever think she’d forgive him?

  “God … please … ”

  Her ragged words were daggers in his chest. He closed his eyes against the grief in her voice. Emotions squeezed his heart until he didn’t think he could bear it a moment longer. Then, breaking through the regret suffocating him, came whispers of memory.

  “I don’t know how anyone deals with pain without God … ”

  “That’s the business He’s in, you know. Helping and healing.”

  Jed opened his eyes, looking to the heavens. Helping and healing. That’s what he needed. Not for himself. He deserved to hurt.

  But for Annie.

  For her, he’d do what he hadn’t done in years. Though he wasn’t worthy, didn’t deserve to be heard, he would try.

  For Annie.

  He bowed his head. Jesus, I know this is my fault. And I don’t deserve Your help. But please, Lord, I’m so sorry. Please, help her. Touch her. Don’t let her hurt because of me. Please, Lord, give her Your peace—

  “No more!”

  Jed started at the low, furious words. Annie was on her feet, and determination hardened her features. For a moment, he thought she’d seen him, and he steeled himself for her fury. But she turned, making her way back toward her tent.

  He stood there long after she’d stepped inside and zipped the door shut. Long after the dim light inside her tent went out.

  Just stood there. Staring in the darkness. Pleading with God.

  Because what he’d seen as Annie walked away told him, more clearly than any words could, that his deception had carried a far higher price than he’d ever dreamed. But he wasn’t the one paying it.

  Annie was.

  THIRTY-NINE

  “Long is our winter, dark is our night,

  Come set us free, O Saving Light!”

  GERMAN PRAYER

  “Do not stay so far from me,

  for trouble is near,

  and no one else can help me.”

  PSALM 22:11

  OCTOBER 24—A RED CLOVER DAY (GREEN AND ROSE)

  6:30 a.m.

  “Whoever invented oatmeal was a genius.”

  Jim, one of the members of Annie’s K-9 unit, looked over her shoulder at the bowl she cupped in her hand. “You trying to tell us there’s oatmeal in there, under all that brown sugar and raisins and milk?”

  “It’s in there.” This from Karen, another SAR member, peering across the table at them. “Look at the lumps. Nothing forms lumps like oatmeal.”

  Annie sniffed her disdain. “You people are trogolytes.”

  Jim’s lips twitched. “I think you mean troglodytes.”

  “Either way works for me.”

  He patted Annie on the top of her head. “Sure, Justice. Whatever you say.”

  Annie realized anyone overhearing their foolish exchange might think them calloused. To joke over oatmeal when Amberly was still lost? But humor brought relief. Pulled your perspective away for a moment, allowing you to regroup, refocus. It brought you together, where anger and frustration tore apart. Humor was as necessary to the unit as any piece of equipment or element of training. Even in the face of searches as unproductive and frustrating as this one.

  Especially then.

  Of course, the laughter wasn’t as much a relief as usual. Because mixed in with the voices of her SAR compatriots, Annie heard another voice. A deep, rich voice that used to make her heart trip.

  Now it just made it ache.

  But she refused to look Jed’s way. To acknowledge that either he or Andy were there. Of course, she knew they were. Was painfully aware of them sitting there, watching her. Of Jed’s eyes fixed on her, as they had been since that awful day she discovered who he really was.

  He’d tried to talk with her a number of times, but she just turned and walked way. He was not going to talk his way out of this. Not now.

  Not ever.

  Nor was he going to know how much she still hurt. Which was why she made sure her laughter was as full and light as she could make it.

  “Good to hear you laughing, sis.”

  Annie turned to find Dan walking toward them. She shifted over on the bench of the picnic table. “You’re out early today.”

  He yawned, holding his hands around the heavy ceramic coffee mug that accompanied him wherever he went. “I stayed here last night.”

  She turned back to her oatmeal. As much as she loved the stuff when it was hot, even she couldn’t stomach it when it cooled and congealed. “Shelby must’ve loved that.”

  “She understands.”

  “What a control freak you are?”

  “I’m sorry, I think you’re confusing me with our other sibling.”

  Annie grinned. “Oh, right you are. That’s Kylie’s domain, isn’t it?” She scraped the last of her oa
tmeal from the bowl, then set it aside and lifted her coffee. “So you stayed because of me.”

  His silence confirmed the suspicion. She lowered her voice so only he could hear. “Look, I admit it. This whole situation—the notes, Jed, the search—it’s stressful. Maybe enough so that I’m not at the top of my game.” She set her suddenly tasteless coffee down and pinned her brother with a hard look. “But I do not—repeat, do not—need a babysitter.”

  “I’m not doing this because you need me to, sis. I’m doing it because I need to. For me.”

  It was there, plain for her to see, in his eyes. The concern. The apprehension. And suddenly Annie understood.

  Dan was afraid of another loss.

  She drew in a breath of awareness, then laid her hand over his on the table. “Okay, big brother. No more arguments about it.”

  He turned his hand up to grip hers tight. “Thanks.”

  “Present for you, Annie.”

  She glanced up just in time to see one of the California SAR members drop an envelope on the table in front of her. “What’s this?”

  He shrugged. “No clue. It was on my truck this morning, under the windshield wiper.”

  Annie and Dan looked first at each other, then down at the envelope. She picked it up. Annie Justice was printed on the outside.

  “You want me to open it?”

  She shook her head, tore the envelope open, and let the note slide out. She bit her lip, then smoothed out the note so they could read it.

  I KNOW WHAIR THE GURL IS.

  FIND HER. BEFORE IT’S 2 LATE.

  Dan’s hand on her shoulder helped still the shaking that gripped Annie.

  “What’s going on?”

  She jumped, grabbing the note as she surged to her feet. Oh, no. you don’t. No way this is going to end up on TV She faced Jed. “Nothing.”

  He wasn’t buying it. “That wasn’t nothing. I’ve seen notes like that before. Plenty of them. None of them good.” He directed a look at Dan. “Tell me what’s happening.”

  Dan stood as well. “Annie, Jed’s going to be your backup while you’re searching. He needs to know what’s going on.”

  “No.” She turned imploring eyes to her brother. “It’s none of his business.”

  Dan’s hand closed over hers, where she had the note crumpled into a ball. He eased her fingers open. “Yes, it is. If something happens, he needs to know To protect you.”

  “I can take care of myself!”

  “And to protect himself and Andy.”

  She resisted a moment longer, then let go of the note. Dan handed it to Jed, whose features darkened as he read. When he looked up, rage glittered in his eyes. “I take it this isn’t the first note?”

  Dan sat on the table. “No. There are several. And there were e-mails before that.”

  “So you’re taking it seriously.”

  Dan’s eyes were glittering now. “Definitely.”

  Annie took the note again. “What does he mean, he knows where the girl is? Amberly? How can he know?”

  Dan rolled his clearly tense shoulders. “I’m not sure he does. He may just be pulling your chain. Saying what he knows will cause you the most stress.”

  It was working.

  Jed’s brow creased. “Dan, you got this just now?”

  He nodded. “It was on one of the searcher’s cars this morning. When he found it, he brought it to Annie.”

  Though Annie hadn’t thought it possible, the anger in Jed’s eyes deepened. “You know what that means.”

  Annie frowned, both at the fierce question and at Dan’s nod. “What? What does it mean?”

  Dan didn’t answer right away.

  “You have to tell her. She needs to know.”

  Jed’s ominous words breathed new life into the fear within her. She looked at her brother. “Know what?”

  Dan took the note from her. “This was on a searcher’s car, Annie.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “How did it get there?”

  Understanding was immediate—and terrifying. She put a hand on the table to steady herself.

  “He’s here.”

  Perfect.

  It was perfect. Just the right amount of tears.

  Just the right amount of blood.

  He looked at the child curled into a ball on the cot, a thin blanket tossed over her restless form. He could have used her blood. Seriously considered it. But one thought held him back.

  What if he made a mistake?

  He wasn’t a doctor. What if he cut her too deep, or couldn’t stop the bleeding? Then she’d be dead and of absolutely no use to him.

  No, this had been better. Of course, they’d know as soon as they tested it that the blood type was wrong. But until then …

  Oh. Until then. The agony Annie would suffer. Agony that would break her heart. Her spirit. Her love for this damnable pastime that wasted her time and talents.

  Oh, yes. Annie would suffer.

  He could hardly wait to see it.

  FORTY

  “We turn to God for help when our foundations are shaking,

  only to learn that it is God who is shaking them.”

  CHARLES C. WEST

  “‘My thoughts are completely different from yours,’ says the LORD.

  ‘And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.’”

  ISAIAH 55:8

  OCTOBER 25—A CORNFLOWER DAY (GREEN AND BLUE)

  6:00 a.m.

  God, what are You doing?

  Annie stood just outside her tent, staring at the blanket of white that covered the ground, weighted the trees, coated the tents. At the large, fluffy flakes floating down from the muted sky. There was pristine beauty in the sight, but not even the artist in Annie could appreciate it.

  All she felt was despair.

  Bad enough that her brother followed her everywhere like an extra shadow. That when she and Kodi were out, Jed and Andy made her nervous as a cat with the way they kept scanning around them for any possible evil.

  Now this.

  Father, how could You let it snow? Doesn’t Amberly have enough working against her?

  And though only a few inches had fallen, it would make the work harder on Kodi as well. There would be spots where the powder was fairly deep—hard going for the shepherd, even with her long legs. To make matters worse, the drop in temperature would make much less scent. Like trying to smell an ice cube.

  Annie knelt, lifting a handful of the dry, powdery substance. Wonderful. Just wonderful. Kodi would practically have to trip over Amberly to find her.

  What next, Lord? What else can happen to keep us from finding Amberly?

  “This isn’t good, is it?”

  Jed’s voice fell as soft as the snow, a touch of warmth in the cold. But Annie didn’t turn. She couldn’t. Couldn’t bear facing him and the snow at the same time. She dropped the snow she’d been holding and stood. “No. It’s not.”

  “I just wanted to let you know Andy and I are ready whenever you and Kodi are.”

  She rubbed one gloved hand with the other. “Okay. We’ll head out right after we eat breakfast. In a half hour.”

  Snow crunched behind her as Jed walked away. The sound tugged at her heart. Everything within her wanted to turn, to call him back. To have things like they were.

  But what they’d shared was lost. And not even Annie could find it again.

  No matter how much she wanted to.

  “I take it that’s the infamous Jed?”

  Annie spun, her mouth falling open. “Killian!”

  He opened his arms to her, and Annie didn’t hesitate. She went to him, letting him enfold her in a comforting hug.

  “What’s wrong, Annie? You look so heartbroken.”

  She shook her head and stepped back. “What on earth are you doing here? You hate the cold!”

  His shoulders lifted, the motion eloquent. “I may hate the cold, but I love you. I told you I’d think about what you said, about how all this
—” he waved his hand, encompassing the search site, the tents, everything around them—“fed your soul. That thought won’t leave me alone. So I decided if I’m going to call myself your friend, I need to understand what it is about this that inspires you so.”

  She took his hand, then looked down. “Killian, what did you do to yourself?”

  “Oh, you know me.” He pulled the bandaged hand away. “Clumsy to a fault. I had a bit of an argument with a utility knife when I was opening boxes at the gallery yesterday. Ryan called me every kind of fool for not being more careful.”

  “Good thing he was there.” Annie grinned. “You get faint at the sight of blood.”

  “Yes, well. Enough about me.” He linked his arm in hers. “I heard you say you’re nearly ready to go out again. So show me where I can wait until you come back.”

  Annie laughed, and this time it was even sincere. “Thanks for coming out here, Killie. It means a lot to me.”

  “Me too.” He didn’t meet her gaze, but there was a small smile on his lips. “Me too.”

  Stillness.

  That’s what surrounded them as Jed and Andy walked along, a couple of paces behind Annie. Sounds were both muffled and magnified at the same time. The crunch of their feet on the snow was swallowed almost as soon as it sounded. And yet the steady tinkling of Kodi’s bell drifted to them as clear as if the dog stood beside them. From what Annie had told them the first night they trailed her though, the dog could have ranged a considerable distance away

  Jed couldn’t imagine it. “Aren’t you afraid Kodi’ll get lost herself?”

  “She’d have to work at losing me.”

  “Surely she can’t see you from that far away.”

  A smile crooked Annie’s lips. “All she has to do is smell me. Remember, a search dog has forty-four times the olfactory sensory cells a human does.”

  That brought Andy peeking out from behind the camera. “Man! That’s a super sniffer.”

  “That it is, but it makes sense. God created these animals to be scent smart. Twelve percent of their brains are dedicated to scent analysis. That’s twelve times the percentage for human brains.”