Say That Again (31 page)

So I followed her. On and on. Uphill, downhill. Except I was pretty sure the hills were now mountains. Over stream, through trees and more trees, under an old railroad bridge spanning a dry creek bed.

At some point, Hannah followed a trail that went up high and then along an overhang. Her steps were slow, because they were so small, but she plowed on with the determination of a soldier. At the lip of an outcropping, she stopped and sank to the ground to dangle her boots over the ledge.

Less confident that the rocks beneath us would not crumble and fall away, I hung back, crouching behind her. Hannah unlooped the straps of her backpack and settled it in her lap. She pulled out a box of cheese crackers. Square, of course.

Counting them out into her palm, she formed a stack. I couldn’t tell how many, but clearly it had to be something exact. She pinched three off the top and offered them to me. I turned my nose away in denial. Hannah needed her strength more than me.

She shrugged — “Suit yourself.” — and stuffed all three in her mouth at once.

The first snowflake that fell landed in her hair. I watched it sparkle as she tilted her head to look in the box, then melt from the heat of her body. More snow tumbled down as Hannah munched away. Flakes so big and fluffy that in the distance they looked like balls of cotton being tossed from above.

The wind had stopped. It was so quiet now. Breathtakingly, powerfully quiet. Like there was no one else in the whole world but us two. Which could very well have been the case.

There was not one road, one house, one building anywhere in sight. We could see only the deep greens of the pines and the blended dull grays and browns of the deciduous tree branches, layered one against another, stretching for miles and miles and miles. Snow piled thick upon limbs, etching their forms in webs of pearly white. Here and there, the side of a mountain cut away to reveal sheer walls of stone, some of them soaring high.

Fingers pressed together as if she were holding a brush, Hannah dabbed at an imaginary piece of paper, painting in the sky the shapes and colors that formed in her mind. Her wrist flicked back and forth, occasionally dipping to wash out her ‘brush’ and then pick up more color.

In the distance, a crescent of pale yellow shone just above the horizon through lightening clouds. The day was almost over. Night would come soon — and under cloak of darkness would also come the cold.

Shivering, Hannah plunged her bare hand into the box. Her mouth dipped in a frown.

“Gone,” she whispered hoarsely as she tossed the box over the ledge. I didn’t look, couldn’t hear it fall, but Hannah leaned forward so far, watching it, that my heart plummeted. I sat up, about to take the back of her coat in my teeth to keep her from falling. But before I could, she pulled her knees up, scooted back, and stood.

“Let’s go. I’m thirsty.”

So was I. And I’d long since run out of anything inside me to pee. Unfortunately, it was a long way down to any creek bed and we hadn’t seen one for hours. Not since Hannah had scrambled up that tree.

But Hannah, being Hannah, marched on with a purpose all her own. Toward a vision that only she could see.

My duty was to stay at her side. Protect her. Because who knew what dangers we might meet in this vast and rugged land?

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“W
hat the hell is going on?” Hunter stormed at Brad. He’d driven to Heck’s house first. It seemed like the most logical place to get answers. Jenn wasn’t answering her phone.

Brad motioned him over to the side of the driveway. Three Adair County sheriff’s deputy cars were parked in the driveway. Nathan Bowden, the new sheriff, had just gone inside Heck’s house, as deputies wearing latex gloves carried out objects in plastic bags and put them in the trunk of one of the cruisers.

Hunter jabbed a finger in their direction. “They’re collecting evidence? Of what?!”

Putting an arm over his stepson’s shoulder, Brad walked him farther away. Hunter went reluctantly, his head craned to watch the comings and goings in the house.

“Hector Menendez told them to take anything they wanted,” Brad said, “that he didn’t have anything to hide. I agree the search is a bit overboard, especially since no warrant’s been issued, but Jenn —”

“How could she point the finger at him, Brad? And why? What makes her think he did
anything
to Hannah?” As soon as the words were out, Hunter wanted them back. Did Jenn know something he didn’t? What if Heck —?

“She saw him put a large trash bag into the trunk of his car sometime after you left this morning. Shortly after that, Heck drove off. When Jenn discovered Hannah was gone and went outside looking for her a little over an hour later, Heck pulled back into his driveway.”

A shot of lead dropped through Hunter’s gut, tearing apart his insides. Maybe there was more to this than he thought. But there’d never been any indication, any proof that Heck was anything but a regular, decent guy. A widower restarting his life, wanting nothing but a peaceful existence. Things had gone so well between him and Hannah. No, as much as he loved Jenn, she’d assumed too much.

“So the first thing she did was accuse Heck? Come on, Brad. You know Hannah. She could be anywhere — asleep in the hayloft, stuck in a tree somewhere ... The last time she ran off, it was because she thought she heard a bird talking to her.”

“Yeah, I know. We’re on it. I explained it to Nate and told him their efforts would be better spent combing the area for Hannah. He already called out two canine units from adjacent counties. They’re on their way. The fire department is organizing volunteers as we speak. The community has pulled together in an incredibly short time. Pretty amazing, really, what folks will do for their neighbors.”

“I appreciate it, Brad. I do. It’s just that ... this ...” He waved a hand at the sheriff’s cars lined up. “It’s not right. We need to find Hannah. Not initiate a witch hunt.”

Curving a hand around the back of his neck, Brad nodded. “I agree. This should be about finding your little girl. And they’re going to do that, Hunter. They will. But right now, like I said, Heck’s cooperating fully.”

“Tell me, Brad, not in your professional opinion, but based on your gut. Do you think they have any reason to suspect Heck? I mean, Hannah hasn’t been gone for more than a couple of hours. So Heck put something in his car, drove somewhere, and came back. So what? There could be a hundred explanations for that.”

“There could be, but ...” Brad gave a telling half shrug. “It’s circumstantial, yes. But in cases like this, it’s best to explore all leads, no matter how much we don’t want to believe the worst possibilities.”

Worst?
Hunter was trying to let it all sink in. And yet he resisted. How could everything in his world change so damn fast?

“Where’s Jenn?”

Brad tipped his head toward Hunter’s house. “Home. With Lise and Maura. Nate told them it would be best if they stayed there, so if any news came we’d be able to find them.”

Hunter started toward his car, but Brad hooked a hand around his elbow to stop him.

“It’s been hard on her, Hunter. Don’t blame her for what’s happening to Heck. She’s beside herself with worry. No matter what, remember that this is about Hannah.” He clasped Hunter’s shoulder, squeezing. “Remember.”

How could he forget? The entire ride here from the Appletons’ — normally a thirty-five-minute drive, but he’d done it in twenty-six, all the while hoping that the state patrol didn’t pull him over — all he could think was that there had to be some logical explanation for where Hannah was. Somehow, the pieces would snap together and they’d find her. Or clues about where she was, at least. Right under their noses, probably. But he’d been disappointed to arrive here and see that was obviously not the case.

A commotion on the front steps drew Hunter’s attention. There, four deputies were escorting Heck out in handcuffs.

Hunter bolted forward.

“Hunter!” Brad called.

But there was no way Hunter was going to let them do this to his friend. He got to the sheriff’s car just as Heck scooted into the backseat, his arms bent behind him.

“Stop! Wait!” Hunter shouldered his way past the two deputies bringing up the rear. He wedged himself between Heck and the door before they could shut it. “Heck, what’s going on here?”

A wry smile crossed Heck’s mouth. He spoke softly, calmly, but there was an underlying worry to his voice. “They’re just going to ask me some questions, Dr. McHugh. That’s all.”

“Like this?”

“Everything will be fine where I’m concerned. Trust me.”

“Don’t talk to them without a lawyer, Heck. Don’t.”

“I considered that. But they’ll see soon enough this is all a grave misunderstanding. The sooner I give them a statement and clear my name, the sooner they’ll move on.” He shifted his legs to face front, the seat creaking beneath him. “Don’t worry about me, Doc. Let Echo help you find Hannah. That dog’s your best bet.”

Drawing back, Hunter nodded. He lifted a hand in a goodbye as they shut the door, but Heck kept his eyes forward, his face devoid of emotion. The car pulled away, followed by another cruiser.

“Believe me,” Hunter muttered to himself, “if I knew where Echo was right now, I’d set that dog loose and let him lead us right to Hannah.”

The two cars drove off into the distance, leaving behind more questions than answers. His mind numb, Hunter drove the short distance to his house. He parked next to the kitchen door, not bothering to put his truck up in the garage. If any news came about where his daughter was, he wanted to get there as quick as possible.

The back door swung open and Jenn came to stand on the back steps, waiting for him. Her eye sockets were red, like someone had punched her in both eyes repeatedly. For a moment, she swayed, holding herself. Then, her shoulders crumpled forward and she collapsed to her knees, covering her face with her hands.

Just the sight of her, rocking back and forth, sobbing like her world had ended, dampened Hunter’s hope.

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I
t was a strange little house, a shack really. Barely tall enough for a full grown man to stand in. The outside a faded red, now mostly gray. The lower right corner of the door clawed at and chewed through by some wild beast. Flaps of tattered canvas covered the glassless windows.

How anyone could live here was beyond me. But it was definitely a house. A tiny, dilapidated house. It smelled of humans, overlain with the urine and feces of some large varmint, although a long time had gone by since any people were last here.

Empty bottles littered the floor. A torn potato chip bag lay beneath a broken folding chair. The cans they’d left behind were rusty, save for two smaller ones with pictures of fish on the outside. Hannah pulled the tab on one and sniffed it. A rancid odor drifted down. She curled her lip, then flung it out the window, where it thunked against a tree trunk. I was hopeful when she opened the second one. Her nose wrinkled. She dipped her pinkie inside, tasted it.

“Yuck! You can have it.”

The open can on the floor before me, I approached it skeptically. It smelled strongly ... of fish. Oily, salty fish. I feasted on it.

Darkness enclosed our little shelter. The wind gained force, rattling the door on its crooked hinges, beating at the canvas flaps. We had to huddle down next to the ground to escape it, but in the corner it wasn’t so bad. Snowflakes drifted in through the windows and swirled through the opening in the door to pile up on the far side of the room.

Hannah’s body trembled. I curled around her as best I could, but I, too, was cold to the bone. It hadn’t been so bad when we were moving all day, but we both needed rest. Hannah had taken a pair of socks from her backpack and put them on her hands like mittens. With them, she mopped the tears from her cheeks.

That was how I fell asleep, curled up next to my girl, her sniffles soft in my ears.

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—o00o—

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M
y mind was so slow to register my surroundings, that when I awoke it took a long time before I remembered where we were and how we had gotten there. Somehow, I had stopped shivering in the night, although I had woken many times, my toes aching from the cold. A bubble of warmth had formed between Hannah and me, the scant heat of our bodies shared.

I snuggled closer to her, rubbing my muzzle against her chest. She didn’t move, except for the slight expansion of her ribs. I wanted to get moving, so we could warm up and find someplace better than this, but I let her sleep on, because I was too stiff to move.

Golden light spilled through the tiny windows, its brightness making the room look far cozier than it felt. In summer, this place would have looked so very different.

As the day brightened, I decided it was time to go. I licked Hannah’s face, but she didn’t respond. She looked so tired and worn. So frail.

I shoved my nose in her armpit and snorted. When that brought no reaction, I swiped my tongue across her mouth. Several times.

I began to worry. Why wasn’t Hannah waking up?

So I barked. Loud and strong. My mouth inches from her ear.

She started with a jolt, her head snapping up. She pushed herself up on an elbow to glare at me.

“Don’t scare me like that, Echo! Never again.”

Yeah, well, it worked, didn’t it?

She scrunched her mouth up. Her lips were cracked at the corners, her nose red and chafed from rubbing it. Her skin had a pallor I had never seen on a human before. Ghostlike, almost.

Yes, we dogs see ghosts
all
the time. What do you think we’re barking at when we stare off into a dark corner of the yard, our hackles raised?

Hannah opened her second box of crackers. This time I took what she offered, even though the crackers made my mouth drier than it already was. Truth be told, I could’ve eaten the whole box by myself, but halfway through Hannah closed the top flaps and stuck it back in her pack.

I whined. I couldn’t help myself.

“We have to make them last, Echo.”