Chapter 12
Todd
Moose Hollow Road curves gently as I drive. I grip the steering wheel tightly as the old van bumps and bucks on the uneven pavement. The street is wide enough for two cars, but traffic is rare.
The houses along this stretch sit far apart, nestled against the trees, their yards still half-buried in snowdrifts despite the slow creep of spring. Lights glow warmly in the windows, illuminating porches still draped with Christmas garlands and strings of red-and-green bulbs. A giant inflatable Santa leans precariously against the MacAllisters’ fence, partially deflated but still grinning.
Despite the situation, I grin, too.
Northwick Cove goes over the top for every holiday. Christmas decorations stay up well into March. May Day will bring flower baskets and ribbons on lampposts. The Fourth of July will see the entire town decked out in flags.
Mel’s house comes into view first, a tidy two-story home with a wide front porch and a snow-covered swing set in the yard. There is no sign of her, her husband or their sons. Owen and Nate are well into their twenties, but with limited job opportunities in town, most people stay with their parents until they marry—if they ever do.
Farther down the road is Karin Winters-Malloy’s place—a larger, older farmhouse with peeling white paint and a sagging front step. The lights are on, and a faint puff of smoke curls from the chimney.
I press the gas a little, the van grumbling as I near the Grayson family farm—a sprawling property of pastureland and stables. Their cattle are tucked inside for the night, but the sheep and goats huddle under the barn’s overhang, their dark shapes barely visible in the fading light.
I adjust my grip on the wheel, glancing toward the trees lining the road. Savannah could be out here somewhere, alone, cold, and?—
No. Not going there.
I roll my shoulders and reach for my phone.
Colton took Rock Harbor Road toward the docks on foot. Poor bastard. It’s getting colder by the minute. At least I’m comfortable.
I’m ready to shoot him a text, when the device starts to shake in my hand.
Jack:
I’ve reached Route 1. Got nothing. If she made it this far, there’s no way of knowing which way she went. Turning back to the B&B.
Damn it.
The first real fear settles in.
I drop my phone on the bench beside me.
Where is she?
What if we don’t find her?
I tighten my hold on the wheel and scan the road ahead.
If we find her— when we find her—I’m done holding back. I’ve wasted too much time already. Colton had better get on board with the idea fast. Unless…
Has she left?
No … I shake my head. Not without telling Diana.
I scramble for the phone and call her before I reconsider.
“Have you found her?” Diana’s voice is tight, hopeful.
“No, sorry.” I grind my molars and must unlock my jaw before I can say more. “Have you checked her room? Did she leave her belongings?”
A pause. Then, a muttered curse. “Hang on. Stupid—I didn’t even think to check. You think she might have left?”
There’s a shuffle of movement, the faint creak of wooden steps. Harsh breathing.
I wait. My heart thuds against my ribs.
The seconds stretch.
“I’m in her room. All her stuff is here—although, I think she took her backpack.”
“All right.”
Okay, so she didn’t leave town.
That should make me feel better, except it doesn’t.
“Thanks, Diana.” I press the end button and drop the phone back onto the seat beside me.
Before I can start driving again, the phone buzzes and the screen lights up.
I snatch it up, my thumb hitting accept before the second ring.
“Found her,” Colton says.
The tension locked in my spine doesn’t ease. “Where?”
“About two miles up the Blueberry Ridge Trail. I don’t think she’s hurt, just cold.”
His breath isn’t steady. That’s what hits me first.
Not his words but the way he’s breathing.
The edges of my vision sharpen, and I don’t waste time. I turn the van onto the Graysons’ driveway, brake hard, and slam the van in reverse.
After backing up onto Moose Hollow Road, I put the van in the direction of Main Street. “I’m coming.”
Flooring the gas pedal, I call Diana again. A cat takes a sprint in front of me, but I slow down enough to see her dart into the tall grass on the opposite side of the road.
Diana says, “Did you find her?”
“Colton did.”
“Is she hurt? Where did she go? What took her so long?”
I press the phone between my shoulder and ear. “I don’t know.”
“Where was she? What happened?”
A sigh escapes me. “Diana—please.”
“Yeah, yeah, you don’t know. Go get them. I’ll call Elliot and Jack.”
“Thanks.” I pull the phone from my ear and drop it.
The rear tires skid as I turn into Main Street.
I give a sharp yank on the wheel and force my right foot to ease back a little.
The van jerks back in line.
I’m more careful now. Better to be a few minutes later, than drive the van into a ditch.
My blood is rushing in my ears, my heart still pounding like I’m running the distance instead of driving.
I reach the fork in the road where it branches off to Rock Harbor Road going southeast and leading to the docks. I take Hemlock Ridge Road.
Only one house stands on Hemlock Ridge Road about a mile from Main Street. I speed by the large, two-story log cabin nestled among the trees, belonging to the schoolteacher Mr. Samuel “Sam” Whitaker and the grocery store owner Henry Lawson. The town whispers about the men being more than just housemates, speculating since neither has ever been seen with a woman. I don’t know and don’t care. To each their own.
I whiz by the dark wood exterior blending into the rugged landscape. The warm glow of interior lights spills through the large front window.
I slow to a crawl when I reach the trail sign, but gravel still rattles against the undercarriage as I take the dirt road leading into the wooded area, the branches clawing at the paint.
I don’t care. All I care about are my brother and Savannah.
After a few hundred yards, the trail narrows. I have no choice but to continue on foot. The van won’t fit.
I throw it into park, grab the blanket from the back—a thick, smoky fabric that smells like salt and sea—and the flashlight before I take off.
The light bounces over the frozen ground, catching jagged roots and half-melted patches of snow. My breath comes out in a hazy vapor.
“Colton? Savannah?” The sound echoes into the dark.
No answer. I grip the blanket more tightly and increase my speed.
Call their names again.
A second of silence.
“Todd!”
It’s Colton.
I push harder, my breath coming fast as I round the bend. My flashlight beam bounces across the rough terrain before landing on them.
Savannah is wrapped in an emergency blanket, her body pressed against Colton’s side. He’s holding her up, supporting most of her weight, but it’s her face that sends a jolt through me—too pale against the darkness, lips barely parted, and her expression blank with exhaustion or shock.
I don’t slow down. My boots pound against the frozen earth as I close the distance, my heart hammering harder than it should from the run.
Two more strides, and I’m there. Too close. Not close enough.
Colton adjusts his hold on her.
“Is she hurt?”
A pause, just long enough to twist something deep inside me.
“No. Just cold.”
Colton meets my gaze, then looks away just as fast. His jaw tightens, his grip on Savannah firm but careful. Something unsettles me about the way his fingers flex against her middle restlessly and his eyes keeps darting away from mine.
I don’t push. Not now.
Not with her like this and on a damn dark trail.
We’re going to bring her home, make sure she’s safe before I get to the bottom of this.
I step in beside her, close enough to feel the shiver rippling through her body. My arm finds its place at her back, steadying her as she leans into the warmth between us.
She molds between us, her fit there completely natural.
Something clicks into place. Like a missing puzzle piece that prevented me from seeing the bigger picture. I don’t waste time or energy on the thought, but start toward the van, steering the other two in the right direction.
“Let’s get her home.”