“It’s dark.”
“We go that way.” She pointed in the direction they’d come.
Molly bit her lip.
That might work.
If they got back to the big road over the hill, across the creek, and followed it, they should be able to find their way back. They’d stayed by that road after they turned off Uncle Logan’s street.
But they’d have to be careful if they saw any strangers. Nana and Uncle Logan had told her even people who seemed nice could be bad.
“’Kay. But let’s wait for the rain to stop.”
“I don’t want to stay here all night.”
“The rain might be done soon.”
But walking home in the dark would be very scary.
And what if they got lost?
What if they never got home?
Molly tried not to cry.
Yet as another crack of thunder shook the walls of the shed behind her back, she couldn’t stop the tears that trailed down her cheeks.
Running away had been a big mistake.
A slash of lightning illuminated the entrance to the high school gym and rain began to pummel the roof as Jeannette dashed inside to get her next search assignment, Roark on her heels.
They joined a small group gathered around Jim Gleason, who was on the phone.
“Got it. I’ll pass that along.” He slid the phone back into its holster. “Listen up, folks. That was the chief. The dog is following a trail, and she wants to pursue that approach for the remainder of the night. Since it’s easy to miss an important clue in the dark and rain, she’s suspending the volunteer search until further notice—probably first light. If you’d like to be on the call list should we have to resume, put a check mark next to your name on the sign-up sheet over there.” He motioned toward a table against the wall.
Roark headed that direction, as did many of the others who’d returned to the command center after completing their grid, while Jim fielded questions from a Coos Bay news crew.
Jeannette scanned the crowd, spotting several familiar faces. Tracy and her husband, Michael, from the cranberry farm. Luis Dominguez. BJ, still dressed in her construction attire, and her husband, Eric. Lexie’s husband, Adam.
So many people in the town had turned out to help. Marci and Ben and the two clergymen had also been on the volunteer list, but they must be out working their grids.
Charley walked in the door, lifted a hand in greeting, and crossed to her. “Any updates?”
She repeated what Jim had said. “I understand the logic behind the decision to wait until morning to continue, but it’s not sitting well.”
“I know what you mean. When people we care about are hurting or in need, we want to help in any way we can. And I can see that you care deeply about Molly—and Logan.”
She squinted at him.
Apparently the feelings she’d only acknowledged to herself a handful of hours ago were obvious to others.
Or at least to Charley.
“I may ask Jim if there’s anything else I can do until the search resumes.” She glanced toward the officer.
“Or you could call Logan, see if he could use some moral support.”
“Charley! Can I see you for a minute?” Jim called from across the room where the map with the search grids was displayed on a large board.
“A few prayers wouldn’t hurt, either.” Charley touched her arm and walked away.
Jeannette hesitated.
She could sign up to help with the search in the morning—or she could call Logan, as Charley had suggested, and offer him a hand to hold, an empathetic ear, a reassuring touch.
In other words, she could offer him her heart.
God, what should I do?
An unsettling rumble of thunder was her reply.
She knew what she wanted to do.
But it was risky.
Very risky.
She was already more involved with the duo next door than she’d ever planned to be, and if anything happened to Molly— Her lungs stalled, and she clutched the back of a folding chair as the truth ricocheted through her.
Whether she backed off now or chose to get closer, it would be Cincinnati all over again if this night didn’t have a positive outcome.
Because a burrowing beagle, an endearing little girl in need of TLC, and a man of character and integrity who honored his promises despite the cost to himself had shattered her defenses.
Jeannette let out a shuddering breath as the safe, predictable world she’d created crumbled around her.
She shoved her trembling fingers into the pockets of her jacket—and as they brushed the key Charley had found during their walk on the beach, several of his comments replayed in her mind.
“No matter how hard we try to maintain the status quo, the world changes around us . . . and changes our world in the process.”
“Sometimes, while we might only recognize it in hindsight, changes that shake up our world can be positive.”
“Love is the great stabilizer.”
Perhaps their resident sage was right.
Yes, she was more vulnerable now than she’d been six weeks ago, but her life was also richer, more vibrant, and filled with possibilities—if she had the courage to embrace them.
And as she exited into the rain and ran for her car, one final thought from Charley looped through her mind, ramping up the urgency of the decision she faced.
Most doors didn’t stay open forever.
26
It was raining hard now, but Sherlock wasn’t stopping—and neither were they.
Logan turned up the collar of his jacket as he and Thomma followed Lexie, the dog, and his handler.
They had to be at least two miles from the house at this point, past the farthest grid anyone had searched, paralleling 101 away from town, twenty yards back from the shoulder.
How had the girls managed to . . .
“We have something.”
As Mark called out and aimed his flashlight toward a large bush, Logan’s phone began to vibrate.
He ignored it and broke into a jog, as did Lexie and Thomma.
It took him no more than a second to identify the abandoned Disney princess suitcase through the foliage.
“It’s Molly’s.”
Lexie pulled out her phone. “I’ll have one of our officers pick it up. Mark, does the scent end here?”
“No.” Sherlock was already straining at the tracking line. “It continues along the same path.”
Meaning they hadn’t been snatched. They’d simply ditched the suitcase after it became too cumbersome to lug around.
Logan exhaled.
Thank you, God.
“That’s good news,” Lexie confirmed. “I’ll wait here until the officer arrives, then catch up with you.”
Logan and Thomma fell in behind the man and dog again.
Another quarter of a mile down the road, the rain tapered off as the trail veered inland, toward a copse of trees.
The going got rougher, and a hundred feet in the dog alerted again on the edge of a small creek.
“Do either of you recognize this?” The handler called the question over his shoulder.
Logan dashed forward, Thomma at his side.
A limp, bedraggled lavender ribbon was caught in the tall grass.
“Yes. It’s Molly’s.”
“Let’s leave it until the chief arrives. Why don’t you put a couple of those rocks next to it to mark the spot?” The handler motioned to several large stones beside the water.