Chapter 22
Nash stood on the deck of the Stone family inn, his heart pounding. The search for Amy had consumed his every thought.
Brooks suddenly held everyone’s attention, his phone pressed to his ear, his expression a mix of focus and hope.
He ended the call, looking up. “That was the Coast Guard,” he announced, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves.
“They received an SOS signal from a boat about ten miles up the coast.”
Nash’s heart leapt at the news. “They did,” he gulped back emotion.
Warm chills filled him; God had inspired him to make sure she knew how to do an SOS.
This was Amy’s lifeline, her way of reaching out to them.
Brooks nodded. “They’ve given us the coordinates. We need to move, and fast. Let’s go.”
They all rushed out to the Liberty.
Brooks nodded. “I’ll drive,” he said, already moving with purpose to get the boat underway.
The boat roared to life, cutting through the waves with determined speed.
Nash’s mind was a whirlwind of possibilities and fears, but he focused on the hope that Amy’s signal had given them. She was out there, and they wouldn’t rest until she was safe.
Arriving at the location, they found the boat empty, eerily silent. They began a meticulous search, checking every inch of the vessel with the precision of a well-coordinated team.
It was Nash who found it—a small piece of paper wedged in a seat cushion. He carefully unfolded it, revealing a fragment of a map. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized it, an unmistakable sign from Amy. “Holy cow,” he breathed, realization dawning on him. “This is what she left.”
“What does it say?” Porter asked.
“It says, we’re going to Cross Creek.”