Say That Again (35 page)

Yet now, here, I could not leave Hannah’s side. Her life meant more to me than my own.

That night was the longest of my life. I was almost certain it would be my last. Above, stars winked between broken clouds. Hannah’s breathing slowed, became fainter. Once she finally drifted off to sleep, she didn’t stir.

When the first light of morning came, I stared at her for an eternity, until I detected the barest movement of her chest. I licked her face vigorously, trying to rouse her. It wasn’t until I shoved my nose at her bad ankle that she showed any sign of life.

Her breath caught. Eyelashes fluttering, she gazed at me dully. Her lips were blue, split, and bleeding at the corners.

“C-c-cold ... Hur-hurt ...” She let her eyes go shut again. Her lips parted. At first, nothing but a puff of air came out, then she looked at me one more time, only for a moment. “Go, Echo. G-g-get ... help.”

Her life depended on me.

One last kiss upon her cheek and I went, although every bone in my body, every sinew, every vessel screamed at me to lie down beside her and stay until we both ceased to breathe.

My heart, though ... my heart echoed Hannah’s words: ‘Go. Get help.’

One thing a dog never, ever does is let his person down.

––––––––

T
wo nights had now gone by since Hannah and Echo disappeared. And with every hour that passed, Hunter’s hope diminished even more. When Sheriff Nate showed up at Heck’s to tell him they’d found Hannah’s backpack in a stream almost twelve miles from the Appletons’ farm, it was nearly altogether extinguished.

The morning had been silent, full of sadness and tension. He and Jenn sat alone in their living room. They hadn’t said a word to each other since coffee, three hours ago. Neither of them dared give breath to what was inside of them. The hurt was too great.

Lise was upstairs with Maura, who was taking this as hard as anyone. Half of Faderville had been looking for Hannah and her dog. That morning, Hunter had even seen a segment on the national news. The search had been expanded, the number of volunteers doubled just within the past day. But all they had to show for it was a backpack with a box of soggy crackers and some extra clothes inside.

Jenn sniffled into her tissue and blew her nose for the thousandth time. Outside, another patrol car came up the driveway and parked outside. Twisting around to look over the back of the couch through the window, she watched as the officer got out and spoke to Brad and the sheriff. Brad nodded, glanced her way, then took the officer aside.

Breath held to keep the tears from bursting forth again, Jenn turned back around and hid her eyes behind her hands.

Hunter wanted to reach out, to hold her, but there was still so much unspoken between them that he didn’t want to explore just yet. When Hannah had fallen in the river, she was quickly found. Then, there had been hope.

This time, though, it was different. In so many ways. And Hunter couldn’t help but wonder if had they handled things with Heck differently, then maybe Hannah would never have run away. He blamed himself and that blame would sit with him forever if they didn’t find —

There was a knock at the door. It may as well have been the tolling of a death knell.

Jenn and Hunter exchanged a glance. An officer at the door was never good. If there had been good news, someone would have phoned them from the field.

Hunter’s heart crashed through his gut. Jenn didn’t move, even though she was closest to the door. He rose to spare her the task.

His hand hovered over the knob. He didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear it. But there was no avoiding it. Putting it off wasn’t going to change anything.

He gripped the knob, felt the cold metal firm beneath his fingertips. He opened the door just enough to see Brad’s worn and aging face through the crack.

Hunter looked down. He couldn’t bear it anymore. It was like a hundred boulders had just been piled on top of him, crushing the air from his lungs, compressing his bones into dust. He wanted this over with. So he asked, “They found her, didn’t they?”

“Hunter ...” Brad pressed a hand on the door, forcing it open wider, and stepped inside. “Hunter, Jenn. Both of you need to come with me.”

Bracing herself against the arm of the couch, Jenn stood. “Why?” Her voice was as rough as sand paper from days of crying.

“Just ... come.”

Hunter waited for Jenn. Then, with his hand lightly on her lower back, they followed Brad outside. Hunter did not feel the bitter cold or see the sun break through sullen clouds. He was dead inside, his body a barely functioning shell. Brad led them to the patrol car that had just arrived. He opened the back door, stepped away.

There, in the backseat on a rumpled blanket, lay Echo, motionless, his eyes closed. Bloody gashes marked his muzzle, back, and legs, the fur around them matted. He looked like he’d been chewed up and spit out by a vicious monster.

A great hole of nothingness opened up beneath Hunter, swallowing him whole. Why hadn’t Brad just said it — that they’d found Echo’s body? He could’ve spared them this morbid sight.

Then Brad leaned over Echo’s still form, placed a hand upon his withers. “Hey, buddy. Wake up.”

Wake up?
Hunter stared harder.
Was he ... breathing?

Echo’s whiskers twitched. His nostrils flared ever so slightly. One eyelid was grossly swollen, but the other parted. A single golden eye pierced Hunter’s soul. Moaning, Echo stretched a paw toward Hunter.

Tears obscured Hunter’s vision, but he knelt down, found Echo’s calloused paw, and rubbed a thumb over the top of it.

Hunter looked up at Brad. “Where ...?”

“I’ll explain on the way.” He nodded toward another cruiser. “Deputy Mortenson will take Echo here to Dr. Timowski’s. The paramedics looked him over, said he probably needs some antibiotics and fluids, but mostly he’s just worn out and dehydrated.”

Jenn’s hand alighted on Hunter’s back. He met her eyes. They held the same question he had.

“And Hannah?” he asked Brad.

Brad grasped Hunter firmly by the arm and helped him to his feet. “They found her.”

A single word hung in the air:
Alive?

A smile graced Brad’s face for the first time in days. Nodding, he looked from Hunter to Jenn. “She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s going to be all right.”

Suddenly, Jenn was in Hunter’s arms, both of them laughing and crying at once. He rocked her and kissed her forehead, then rushed back into the house and called to Lise. She and Maura came running outside.

Soon, they were all hugging and crying and saying how they’d never stopped hoping. Whoops sounded from the neighbors who had gathered to help the McHughs. Deputies clapped each other on the back. Several people took out their phones and called friends and family, spreading the good news. A reporter signaled his cameraman to start filming and soon he was narrating the breakthrough as he stood in front of the McHughs’ farmhouse.

Thumping his palm on the closed door of the cruiser, Brad sent the deputy off with Echo for treatment.

Aware of all the commotion, Heck came out of his house and stood on the porch. Hunter waved to him.

“They found her, Heck! They found her!” Hunter yelled. He wasn’t sure from this distance, but he thought he saw Heck pump his fist. “Echo, too!”

As Hunter got in the back of Sheriff Nate’s car, he noticed the reporter rushing toward Heck’s house. He regretted everything they’d put Heck through. As soon as he could, he’d find some way to make it all up to him.

Maura piled into the back next to her mother and clutched her arm. Putting his right arm around them both, Hunter squeezed Jenn’s knee with his left hand. Relief washed over them in waves.

So many moments, Hunter was sure they’d tell him Hannah was dead or gravely injured. And there was always the equally terrible possibility that she had vanished forever. But in the end, thanks to all the rescue workers — but most of all because of the courage and determination of one intrepid black and white Aussie — Hannah had been found.

Found!

As Sheriff Nate’s car rolled onto the road, Brad, sitting in the front passenger seat, told them Hannah was at the hospital in Somerset where she was being treated for mild hypothermia and a badly sprained ankle.

“So where did they find her?” Hunter asked.

Brad met his eyes. “Somehow she’d made it all the way to Daniel Boone National Forest and onto the North Rim Trail. Turns out she’d seen a sign that said there was a road ahead and she was on her way there when she fell in a ravine and hurt her ankle. But the question isn’t so much
where
they found her as
how
they found her. That trail hasn’t been used for years. Not since a flood about five years ago washed out the bridge leading across it.”

“How did they find her, then?” Jenn asked.

“Echo showed them the way.”

Jenn’s forehead creased. “How?”

“After Hannah fell, he stayed the night with her to keep her warm. This morning he left her, picked up the trail on the other side of the ravine and went three more miles to the main access road. Lucky for him, there were a couple of hikers from out of state who saw him. They’d seen the news this morning and recognized Echo from his picture. When they approached, he started barking and ran off a hundred yards or so. One of them stayed at the roadside and called 9-1-1, while the other followed the dog. Echo wouldn’t let him get close enough for the man to catch him, so the guy figured he was leading him somewhere. And he was. Straight to Hannah. Echo
knew
what he was doing. He kept stopping, waiting for the guy to catch up, then running ahead.”

“That’s some dog you’ve got yourself, Doc,” Sheriff Nate said with a wink.

“Yeah, I suppose so.” There weren’t enough superlatives to describe Echo. Plainly put, the dog was a hero. What a wonderful coincidence that of all the remote, twisting country roads in Adair County, whoever had left him for dead had done so right in front of their house. From the start, Echo had glommed onto Hannah like white cat hair to black slacks. And when duty had called, he’d put himself on the line and paid the price for it. “So, all the cuts. Do they know what happened? Hannah wasn’t —”

“No, she doesn’t appear to have been attacked. Echo must have protected her. Poor dog’s had the tar beat out of him. He’s cut up a bit. A few good gashes, nothing life threatening. My guess is a bear, judging by the claw marks.”

Gripping the headrest in front of her, Maura leaned forward. “A bear, seriously?”

“Unless wolverines have invaded this part of Kentucky, yes, a bear.” Eyeing Hunter in the mirror again, Brad raised a finger. “Last time I knew a dog that brave, it was your girl Halo.”

Hunter’s gaze drifted to the hills racing past. He remembered how Halo had stayed at his side when he had run away, just like Echo had stayed with Hannah. Then later, how she had found her way home when Tucker Kratz stole her. Soon after that, she had attacked Kratz when he held Hunter’s family at gunpoint, saving them all as she risked her own life.

It was almost like Halo was still with him, looking out for his family.

Maybe, in a way, she was.

––––––––

M
aura clamped her arms around Hannah and squeezed. “Don’t you ever,
ever
go away like that again, hear me, squirt?” She let go as Hannah squirmed from her hold, but then took her little sister’s face in her hands. “Do you know how worried I was?”

Biting her lip, Hannah stared at the needle taped to the back of her left hand, then followed the tube coming out of it all the way up to the bag hanging upside down on a hook beside her hospital bed. Truth be told, she hadn’t thought much about it — until last night, as she lay numb with cold under a sky speckled with starlight, drifting in and out of consciousness. She
had
thought of her family then. Of how much she missed them, even after all the trouble she’d caused. In hindsight, maybe running away hadn’t been such a brilliant idea. She had been thinking too much of herself and not enough of her family.

Hannah drew in a shaky breath. “I missed you, too.”

Maura crushed her in an even tighter hug.

“I can’t ... breathe,” Hannah choked out. Her sister loosened her hold, then planted a kiss on her forehead before scooting carefully down from the bed.

Behind Maura stood her parents, Hunter with an arm over Jenn’s shoulder and Jenn mopping away tears, which thoroughly confused Hannah. Why was she smiling
and
crying? Was she glad? Mad?

Hunter came to the foot of Hannah’s hospital bed and peeled the blanket back. Bags of ice were taped to her ankle, which was propped up on pillows. Above the plastic bags, her puffy toes peeked, a bright purple bruise spreading from the base of her big toe to just above her swollen ankle.

“That’s quite a number you did on your ankle, sweet pea,” he remarked. “Does it hurt?”

“Only if I move it.”

“Then I won’t play ‘This little piggy’ with your toes for a while.” Carefully, he replaced the blanket over her foot. “I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to challenge you to a race right now, either, huh?”

It was a joke. She got that much. But Hannah didn’t feel like laughing just yet. She was still waiting for someone to yell at her or ground her or give her a lecture.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking down at her hands as she clutched her blanket. Because she
was
sorry. Truly sorry. And she was willing to face whatever punishment her parents would give her.

Drifting to her, Jenn placed the tenderest of kisses on the top of her head. “We’re just happy you’re okay, sweetie. We love you soooo much.”

Hannah looked into her mother’s eyes. “You’re not mad?”

“If I’m mad at anyone, it’s myself. I jumped to conclusions about Heck. I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t fair to you or him.”

“So he can still show me how to paint?”

“Yes. That and more. First, I have to apologize to him, okay? I caused him a lot of trouble and I’m not even sure he wants to talk to me at the moment, but if I can get it all straightened out, then yeah, you can spend as much time at Heck’s as you want to.”