by Karen Ball
Jed loved listening to Annie talk about all of this. He seldom had to coax her into doing so. She was so passionate about what she and Kodi were doing, the thoughts just poured out of her. “Such as?”
“There only needs to be roughly one part of scent per ten quadrillion for Kodi to detect it. One in ten quadrillion. I can’t even imagine how much that is, but she can do it. It’s as easy for her as breathing.”
“She was made to do this.”
“That she wa—” Annie stopped so suddenly Jed had to grab Andy to keep him from running right over her. She held up one hand, head cocked, listening.
Jed perked his ears too and caught the sound that must have captured her attention.
Kodi’s bell was ringing to beat the band.
He watched Annie, waiting for excitement to fill her features. But it wasn’t there. Instead he saw something he didn’t understand.
Apprehension.
Until, that is, Kodi came flying through the trees toward Annie. The shepherd bounded up to her mistress, and Jed found himself tensing his own muscles as Annie readied for those big paws to punch her thighs. Kodi jumped up, and Annie’s praise was immediate. “Good girl, Kodi!”
Jed had to fight not to groan. How did a woman as petite as Annie stay on her feet when that much force hit her?
She’s strong.
She was that. In more ways than just physical.
“Show me, Kode! Good puppy, show me!”
Kodi spun and ran, Annie, Jed, and Andy hot on her heels, dodging trees and scrambling over brush and fallen branches. Jed could hear Annie saying something as she ran but couldn’t quite make out what it was. He sped up, drawing closer—and his heart constricted when he finally understood what she was saying.
“Please … please be there … please …”
Longing flooded Jed. He ached to comfort her, to do something, to give her what she was asking. To ease the burden weighting her features more every day.
And the pain.
“Hey, Jed, you okay?”
He looked over his shoulder at Andy, who’d turned off the camera to navigate a wide stretch of blackberry bushes. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look … I don’t know, like you’re having chest pains or something.”
Jed forced a touch of humor to his tone. “Look at it this way. If I keel over, it’ll make for a great show”
He’d never admit it, but Andy was right. He was having chest pains. Just not the kind Andy thought.
Seeing Annie hurt like this, hearing her fear—it tore at him like the blackberry thorns snagging his clothing. With a deep gulp of the cold air, Jed turned to the place—no, the One—who’d become a haven since that night he watched Annie scream at the darkness. Since he’d poured out his heart, begging help.
And forgiveness.
Cod, please, help her. This is crushing her heart. Her spirit. She loves You. She’s trying to do what You’ve called her to do. Please, help her.
A long-forgotten peace descended on him, its touch like that of the snowflakes that brushed his face as they tumbled by Light. Cool. Fresh.
And as he broke free from the blackberries, he realized something inside had broken free as well. The pain was gone. In its place was a growing certainty God had forgiven him. Restored him. He didn’t have to worry about having the right to ask for help.
God was his Father. He would hear him.
And He would answer.
FORTY-ONE
“Never despair, but if you do, work on in despair.”
EDMUND BURKE
“He lifted me out of the pit of despair,
out of the mud and the mire.
He set my feet on solid ground
and steadied me as I walked along.”
PSALM 40:2
There’s something there! Look!”
The excitement ringing in Annie’s words was contagious. Before he could stop himself, Jed grabbed Andy’s arm. “You getting all this?”
Andy shrugged Jed’s hand off. “Quit! You’re making me lose the shot.”
“Sorry.” He knew he should just let Andy do his job, but he couldn’t help himself. He hopped behind Andy, peering over his shoulder into the viewfinder. “Zoom in on her.”
Andy did as Jed ordered, and the camera zeroed in on Annie’s face. Jed could see everything. Every nuance of emotion flitting across her features. The way her eyes shone, the tentative smile that nudged the corners of her mouth. The rapid blinking of eyes that suddenly glistened with tears.
Go, Annie. Find her. You can do it.
The camera panned out, catching Kodi in action. The shepherd sped up, bounding through the snow like a four-legged pogo stick. Then with a suddenness that took Jed’s breath away, Kodi stopped.
“Do you see anything?”
“Jed, back off! You’re fogging up the viewfinder!”
He swatted the back of Andy’s head, but he stepped back. “Zoom in. Do you see anything?” He held his breath, waiting. One heartbeat. Two.
“No.”
Jed’s stomach plummeted. No? That wasn’t possible! He saw the way Kodi acted. And there was that certainty inside. “She has to be there.”
“What is going on?”
Annie’s cry of frustration rent the air, and Jed started toward her. Despair was etched in her features, in her stance. He watched her push the emotion aside as she applauded Kodi.
But the dog wasn’t fooled.
She looked up at Annie, then circled the spot, shoving her nose into the snow. With a sharp bark, she dug at the offending ground.
“Kodi, it’s okay.” Annie’s voice caught. “Leave it.”
The dog’s digging grew more frantic.
Jed snagged Annie’s arm as she started toward Kodi, apparently intent on stopping the dog.
“Annie, wait.”
She shot a venomous glare at him, jerking her arm away, but Jed didn’t let go. He tightened his grip. “Look. I think she’s found something.”
Annie spun back to her dog, and a gasp escaped her. She dropped to her knees and pulled something out of the snow and dirt. Kodi’s ecstatic barks filled the air, mingling with Annie’s tear-soaked laughter.
“Good girl, Kodi. Good girl.”
Jed leaned down and held his hand out. Annie didn’t even argue. She handed him Kodi’s tennis ball, and he threw it, calling encouragement as the shepherd bounded after her reward.
Annie pulled her radio free and reported Kodi’s discovery. Then she picked up a stick and poked at it. Jed leaned close.
It was some kind of material.
“It’s a shirt. A little girl’s shirt.”
Jed couldn’t understand the sorrow in Annie voice. Wasn’t this a good thing? A sign Amberly was out here?
Annie shook the dirt free and held the shirt out to study it.
All they had to do was take it back, show it to the girl’s mother. She’d identify it—
Oh.
He could see the shirt clearly now that Annie held it up. Reddish brown stains. Ragged and torn, as though something had ripped into it. A piece of metal, maybe. Or …
He stilled.
Teeth. Wild animals. His mocking words, designed to strike terror into the politician’s heart, came back to taunt him. “Bears, cougars, and who knows what else that could spell disaster—or death—for a helpless child.”
As Kodi ran back to drop the ball in Jed’s hand, Annie clasped the shredded shirt to her chest, then walked to a large boulder and sat down. She lowered her head into her hands, pressing her face into the shirt.
And burst into tears.
Jed turned, but Kodi reached her mistress first. A low whine escaped the dog as she lifted one paw and laid it in Annie’s lap, then licked Annie’s trembling hands. Annie reached out and touched the dog’s head.
It was enough.
Kodi stilled, but she stayed next to Annie, leaning into her as though offering mute comfort.
Jed stood there, lookin
g at the two of them, so vulnerable, so weary … and his heart broke. “Turn it off,” he said to Andy, then walked to put his hand in front of the camera lens.
Andy glanced from behind the camera and met Jed’s gaze.
“Turn it off.”
He studied Jed for a second, then hit the power button and lowered the camera to his side. “I’m gonna go back a little ways.” He looked past Jed to Annie and Kodi. “Give you some privacy.”
Jed thanked him with his eyes, then turned back to Annie.
She put a protective arm around Kodi. “What? Show over? Don’t think your viewers want to see this part, huh?”
He winced at the bitterness in her tone. He deserved it, but he knew it wasn’t really directed at him. “Actually, this is exactly what the viewers want to see.”
She swiped her eyes with her sleeve, then glared at him. “So why not keep filming?”
He tried to speak, but his voice didn’t want to cooperate. He swallowed. Hard. And tried again. “Because I can’t.”
His voice was raw, even to his own ears. Annie didn’t respond, but he hadn’t expected her to. He’d have to make the first move.
She watched him walk toward her, her expression unreadable. He half expected her to bolt. Either that, or set Kodi on him. But she did neither. Instead, she sat there, tears slipping from those beautiful eyes. Waiting.
He reached the boulder and sat beside her. His movements slow and cautious, he put his arm around her. She stiffened, then her resistance left on a small sigh. She sagged against him, turning her face into his shoulder. He gathered her close, tucking her against him.
And let her weep.
This was all wrong!
Annie sitting there, leaning against that lapdog Curry …
It was wrong.
As for Curry, who did he think he was holding Annie like that? How dare he take advantage of her when she was weak, hurting? No one had the right to be close to her like that.
Things had been going so well. With each passing day, as he kept little Amberly drugged and asleep, he’d seen Annie’s despair grow The wonderful doubt that touched her features, her actions. The way her once confident stride grew hesitant.
His careful planning was paying off.
The notes had worked even better than he’d hoped. He didn’t like frightening her—after all, doing so risked hindering her creativity just when she needed it most—but it was necessary. And then he heard about Everyday Heroes. It was as though providence itself was pointing him to E J Curry, the perfect—albeit unwitting—accomplice. Just the person to hound Annie, make her see that her involvement in search and rescue would only lead to loss of privacy and peace. He’d scanned in the newspaper article on Annie, then e-mailed it to Silas Whittle’s assistant, attention E J Curry.
Curry’s natural instincts for a story did the rest.
But he hasn’t behaved himself, has he?
He pressed his lips together. No, Curry hadn’t. What on earth had possessed him to actually come here to meet Annie? And then he had the unmitigated gall to become part of her life.
Which made him part of the problem.
Hence, the need for the drama. Which, all in all, was working out well. He’d expected someone to find the shirt sooner. Amberly had been happy to turn it over in exchange for the beautiful new shirt he’d bought her. And a little ground beef had provided the blood—and the motivation for the dogs at the shelter to tear into it.
That it snowed and covered any sign of his tracks was a miracle.
That Annie was the one who found it was more than he could have hoped for.
That Curry was there, ready to console her, was maddening.
Why, every time he turned around, was Curry there? He was making this far harder than it needed to be. And it was getting more difficult to keep Amberly hidden away in the cabin he’d rented. Harder still to keep her in the drama, to not let her grow frightened. She’d been away from her mother for too long. But that was Annie’s fault!
Why didn’t she just do the sensible thing and give up?
They’d come so close when the search was almost called off. He’d known just the right person to contact—someone with the perfect blend of power and imprudence—to cancel the search.
And then Annie had to call Curry.
Well, enough was enough. He would just have to up the ante a bit. Do something that would make her walk away.
But what? What would have the proper impact?
He studied the two of them, then looked away He simply couldn’t stomach watching them a moment longer. Better to focus elsewhere.
Such as …
He smiled. Of course.
Annie’s precious dog. Without which she would have no reason to be in search and rescue.
Clarity swirled in his mind, then settled deep in his gut. So. His path was clear. More’s the pity. He didn’t want this. Really didn’t.
But Annie wasn’t leaving him much choice.
“We’re running out of time.”
Annie’s voice was so low and ragged that Jed almost didn’t catch the words.
“She’s just a little girl. She can’t survive out here much longer.” Annie looked up at him, her anguish palpable. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”
Jed knelt in front of her. “Talk to me.”
“It’s never been like this before Kodi and I, we’ve always found the victims we looked for. It was as though God had His hand on us, leading us.” She looked at the dog leaning against her. “There’ve been tough searches. Times when it took longer than I thought it would. But no matter how hard or how long, it always turned out right.”
“Annie, it’s not your fault. No one has been able to find the little girl.”
“But that’s just it! We did find her before. Or Kodi did. There was just no evidence to prove that’s what Kodi alerted on those times. Now there is.”
Jed opened his mouth, but Annie stopped him.
“I know what you’re going to say. What the others have been saying. Kodi made a mistake. The stress … my stress is affecting her. But they’re wrong. I know my dog. She alerted. On a person. This—” she held the shirt, crumpled in her fist—“was a plant. I know it sounds crazy, but someone is working against us, Jed. Someone is moving this child.”
She sounded so certain … but if she was right, why wasn’t there any sign of anyone. “Annie, there aren’t any tracks. How could someone put this shirt here without leaving tracks in the snow?”
Doubt wavered in her eyes, and Jed hated that he’d put it there. God, please …
A light went on. “Unless.” He stood, looked from Annie’s tear-stained face to the ground.
She followed his gaze, then stood and came to join him. “Unless?”
“Remember what the note said? He knows where the girl is? You wondered how he could know.”
“Yes, but—”
“Annie, there wouldn’t be tracks if someone planted the shirt here before the snowfall.”
Her eyes swung to meet his, understanding dawning—and then flaring—in those hazel depths. “That’s why we haven’t been able to find Amberly. Because she’s not out here?”
Jed nodded a slow, thoughtful agreement. “I think you’re right. Somebody’s been moving her. Positioning her to draw the dogs, then moving her. Playing us.”
“But why!”
“I don’t know.” He took her arm, turning her back the way they’d come. “But we need to go back and talk with your brother. Because I don’t think we’re dealing with a lost child at all—” a sense of urgency gnawed at him, and Jed picked up his pace—“but with a kidnapping.”
FORTY-TWO
“The wicked are always surprised to find
that the good can be clever.”
MARQUIS DE VAUVENARGUES
“Even when I walk
through the dark valley of death,
I will not be afraid,
for you are close beside me.
Yo
ur rod and your staff
protect and comfort me.”
PSALM 23:4
OCTOBER 25
10:00 a.m.
“Okay, then, everyone clear on the new search?”
Annie watched the heads around them bob up and down. But she saw something more than simple agreement in the searchers’ faces.
She saw anger.
Anger that someone might have used them all this way. That someone would use a child this way.
Anger was good though. Because in situations like this, it erased the frustrations and confusion that had been plaguing them and replaced them with focus and determination. Annie allowed herself a twinge of satisfaction. If there was one thing these people were, now, it was determined. To bring Amberly Heller home.
And to bring her kidnapper to justice.
She was surprised at how quickly Dan agreed with Jed’s conclusion. Then again, it was the only thing that made any sense. It explained so much—Kodi’s false alerts in different grids, the fact that no one of the more than fifty searchers found any signs. Now Annie understood how that could happen.
Whoever was out there was as fixed on her and Kodi as they were on Amberly.
“Are you going to tell Brianna and Mark?”
“I have to.”
Annie understood the regret tingeing her brother’s words. He knew telling her friends that their little girl may have been taken was only going to increase their fears. But if he was going to do everything possible to get Amberly back, he had to ask them if they had any idea who had taken their child. And if so, where that person might have taken her.
“You’re heading out again?”
Annie turned at the question, nodding at Killian. “Yup. We’ll probably be out most of the morning. If not longer.”
He touched her arm. “Just be careful. If there’s really someone out there, doing what you think he’s doing … ” He shook his head. “Just be careful.”
She patted his bandaged hand, then jumped when someone took hold of Killian’s wrist and lifted his hand off her arm.
“So Killian—” Dan eyed the injured hand—“how, exactly, did you say this happened?”
Killian tugged at his hand, but Dan didn’t let it go. Annie frowned. What was wrong with her brother?