Say That Again

by Sasson, Gemini

  As Hunter studied the search teams gathering on his front lawn, it struck him like a blast of winter wind: Hannah was out there somewhere — alone, afraid, lost, cold. He prayed she would be found and returned safely to them as soon as possible.

  This time last year, when Hannah had disappeared from their cabin, everything had happened so quickly. But they’d found her. Found her. This time, however, twenty hours had gone by — and not one clue.

  Hunter was barely aware of the heat building in his palm as he held his cup of coffee. His coat unzipped, he drifted outside to where Nate Bowden was briefing his deputies on their plan for the day.

  When he was done, Nate walked over and clapped Hunter on the shoulder. “We’ll find her, Doc McHugh. I’ve got every available man on it.”

  Hunter nodded politely, but he couldn’t summon a reply. He turned to go back in the house, then paused in front of his truck. A fresh dusting of snow coated its surface, glistening under a weak sun. He brought his cup to his lips, blew the steam from it, and sipped. The coffee was bitter. He’d forgotten to add cream and sugar.

  A haze filled his head as he stared absently at the truck, trying to connect things that made no sense. Why had Echo been looking out the back window when he came down from his shower yesterday? And why had he brought him Hannah’s school paper?

  On the other side of the truck, about fifty feet away, footsteps crunched on crisp snow. Two deputies were milling about, going over what little information they had to go on.

  “There’s no way she just wandered off,” the older male deputy said. “Someone put a nightgown over a pillow and stuffed it under her blanket to make it look like she was still asleep in bed.”

  “Do they think someone took her?” the woman said with grave concern.

  “They haven’t ruled it out.”

  “Hmmm, I don’t know. How could a perpetrator have gotten inside the house without anyone knowing? There was no sign of a forced entry. And the mom and sister were there all morning. They would have heard something, wouldn’t they?”

  “Huh, you’ve got a point there.”

  There was a pause before the woman said something more. “Hey, do you suppose ...?”

  “What?”

  “Suppose she ran away?”

  It was hard for even Hunter to admit it, yet indications were that Hannah was the one who’d put the pillow under her covers and stolen away, either in the middle of the night or sometime that morning. But why? And more importantly, how had she slipped away without anyone noticing?

  “You know how these things go —” the older deputy began, “the more time goes by, the less likely it is they’ll find the kid.”

  A sickening unease roiled inside Hunter’s stomach, pushing upward until it burned his throat from the bottom up. He stumbled to his truck and grabbed the front bumper, retching thin yellow bile. He clamped a hand to his abdomen, trying to hold it in, but another wave rolled through him. When he had nothing left in his gut to vomit, he steadied himself and started for the kitchen door.

  Something stopped him dead. A set of smears inside the rear window of the cap. A place where the dust had been smudged away.

  He splayed his fingers and pressed his own hand against them: four narrow streaks and the barest hint of a fifth, starting slightly lower down.

  Hannah’s handprint.

  —o00o—

  Two cheese crackers. Hunter studied them in his palm. He broke the corner of one, put it on his tongue, tasted it. Not stale. They had been left there recently. There was only one way she could have gotten in the back of his truck.

  Why had it taken him this long to figure it out?

  “Are you sure about this?” Brad asked. He’d run over from his house the moment Hunter called.

  “Positive.” Turning his palm over, Hunter dumped the crackers onto the ground. “It all makes sense now. She stowed away in the cap. Echo must’ve watched her leave the house and go out to the garage. That’s why he was looking through the back window of the kitchen. He also jumped at the tailgate after he brought me —”

  Something else tugged at him, the sense that there was another clue within reach.

  He flung open the door to the truck and shoved his hand under the seat, groping around. He pulled out a few receipts, the owner’s manual, a gum wrapper ... And then he found it: a piece of paper, crumpled and soggy around the edges, where Echo had mouthed it. He smoothed it out, then skimmed it twice.

  ‘I am going were ware I wont be a problum. Heck wood never hurt me. He is my frend ...’

  Brad read the letter over his shoulder. “When did she write this?”

  “Recently, I’d say. Echo brought this to me before we left for the Appletons’. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Thought it was just some random school paper from one of the kids that he’d picked up. So I shoved it under the seat, thinking I’d return it to them later. But then everything went haywire and I totally forgot about it.” Hunter handed the letter to Brad, then pounded a fist against the side of the truck. “How could I be so stupid?! If I’d just been paying attention, we could be that much closer to finding Hannah — and Heck wouldn’t have had to go through what he did.”

  “I’ll tell Nate to redirect the search crews to the Appletons’ place. I don’t know how far she could have gotten in a day, but if they fan out from there and concentrate their efforts in that area, they’ll be that much more likely to find her.”

  “Brad, their property abuts the national forest. She could be anywhere out there.”

  “Hey,” — Brad folded the paper up and tucked it inside his jacket pocket — “we may not know exactly where she is right now, but at least we know where she started from.” He took out his phone and called Nate, who was somewhere out of view. As soon as that was done, he laid a sympathetic hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “This letter also removes any last trace of suspicion that may have been hovering over Heck. Everything he told us aligns with what we found out. Jenn said she saw him putting the trash bags in his car at approximately 9 a.m. Fifteen minutes later, the volunteer at the Goodwill store confirmed that a man fitting Hector Menendez’s description dropped off ten bags of clothing, books, and jewelry at the store. Heck even waited long enough to get a receipt for tax deduction purposes. Shortly after that, the front desk at Fox Hollow confirmed that he checked in for a visitation.”

  “For who? I mean, not that it’s any of my business ...”

  Brad looked at him as if it should have been obvious. “His wife.”

  “Wife?” This was news. “Sophia?”

  “Yes, I thought you knew.”

  Hunter shook his head. “No. He’d barely mentioned her. We assumed she was deceased.”

  “No, she’s very much alive, but ... she has Alzheimer’s. Cammie said he comes to Fox Hollow every Tuesday and Saturday religiously. Sophia grew up around here and has a younger sister still in the area, which is why he moved her here from Louisville.”

  “Frankfort, you mean?”

  “No, he’s never lived anywhere near Frankfort.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “One hundred per cent. He did say he looked into facilities for his wife in Frankfort, but also Danville and Campbellsville, I believe. But that’s the only connection he has to Frankfort. Why?”

  Hunter shrugged. “No reason.”

  Apparently, Jenn had been fed a major chunk of misinformation, which had, understandably, led her in the wrong direction. Damage control would have to wait, however.

  They were headed back inside the house when Hunter’s phone beeped with a text. It was Beth Appleton.

  ‘Still no sign of your dog. Sorry. Any news on Hannah?’

  Hunter grabbed Brad by the arm.

  “Call Nate back,” Hunter told him. “Tell him she has her dog with her.”

  “Her dog? You never said anything about —”

  “I didn’t know until just now. He disappeared from the Appletons’ farm yesterday when I was
on a call there. If Hannah got out of the truck while I was in the barn, it makes sense that Echo would have followed her.”

  Nodding, Brad made the call.

  A tiny surge of relief welled inside Hunter. Hannah may not have been safely at home yet, but at least, wherever she was, Echo was there at her side to protect her.

  —o00o—

  Half a day went by. It may as well have been a hundred years.

  Daylight was fading. They’d found Hannah’s and Echo’s tracks leading away from the Appletons’ goat barn, where Hunter had parked. A good sign. Dogs had been put on the trail, but a few miles later the tracks crisscrossed and they lost the lead. Since then ... nothing.

  Hunter paced the floor — around the dining room table, back out to the living room, pausing at the picture window, then through the kitchen before beginning his laps again. Every so often, he’d stop in front of the fridge, stare at it as if unable to recall what it was for, then open it wide and stare some more, until he decided he wasn’t hungry. And yet he found himself there again, staring at the last remaining can of beer in there for a good five minutes before shutting the door and opening the cabinet above the stove.

  Bottles of gin, vodka, and rum tempted him. He and Jenn were only casual drinkers, their indulgence limited to rare dinner parties. But as he wrapped his fingers around a bottle of Captain Morgan and took it down, he understood how easy it was to take that first drink toward becoming an alcoholic. Even more than that, he understood why.

  There was an ache inside him that couldn’t be filled; it could only be dulled. Moments later he held a half-full glass of rum. He brought it to his lips.

  The back door knob jiggled as a key was fitted into the keyhole. Maura opened the door.

  “Daddy!” she said in surprise, her eyes skipping from his glass to the bottle on the counter.

  Embarrassment flooding his chest, Hunter set his glass down. “What are you doing back, honey?”

  “Gramma said I could come and get some of my things for the night. But then I figured maybe I’d just come back here and sleep. I miss you guys. Is that okay?”

  “Sure, if you want.”

  Shutting the door behind her, she put her backpack in the mudroom. “Where is she?”

  “Upstairs with a migraine. She’s not dealing with this very well.”

  “Looks like she’s not the only one.”

  If Maura was anything, she was honest.

  He dumped the rum in the sink and put the bottle away. “We just got done having a long talk. She feels pretty bad about the mix-up with Heck.”Head hanging, Maura shoved both hands in her pockets. “Yeah, about that ... I feel pretty cruddy, too.” Then she raised her eyes, her voice a barely controlled jumble of emotions. “I shouldn’t have said those things I did about him. It was mean and stupid and it’s all my fault.”

  She threw herself against Hunter’s chest. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said, over and over again.

  “Shhh, shhh. It’s all right.” Hunter cupped her head to his heart, smoothing her hair with his hand until she quieted. When her sobs ebbed away to sniffles, he handed her a tissue. “Why don’t I fix you a hot chocolate, huh? I’ll even put part of a peppermint stick in it. Then, if your mom’s up to it, we can take her some chamomile tea with honey and you two can keep each other company.”

  She leaned back to look up at him. “What about you?”

  “I’m going to make a quick visit to Heck’s. Try to set things straight.”

  Not that it would bring Hannah back, but he had to do it.

  —o00o—

  “You didn’t need to come over here.” Heck lifted a hand toward the couch, as if inviting Hunter to sit, but the tone of his voice wasn’t exactly welcoming, so Hunter remained standing just inside the door. “I’m sure Jenn needs you.”

  Hunter fingered the zipper of his coat, but didn’t tug it down. “Maura’s with her. They know I’m here.”

  More stoic than usual, Heck sat down in his recliner and started flicking through the channels, the sound on low. He stopped on a PBS program about Versailles, turning the closed caption on. “Why did you come?”

  “To apologize,” Hunter offered meekly. “I know it’s too late to fix things, but I want you to know that Jenn feels really bad about what happened. It was a kneejerk reaction. If Hannah hadn’t gone missing, she would never have —”

  “Why isn’t she here, then?” Heck said, his gaze still fixed on the TV.

  “Because I talked her out of it. Jenn’s pretty fragile right now. I told her to stay home with Maura and I’d handle this.”

  Hunter waited for a response, but Heck said nothing.

  “Look, I just wanted to tell you how sorry we are.” There was so much more Hunter wanted to say, but his thoughts were all over the place. At any rate, that was probably the gist of it. He’d hoped his visit would be more productive. Maybe Heck just needed time to process it. Or maybe he’d never forgive them and, honestly, Hunter couldn’t blame him. “Well, that’s all I had to say.”

  Heck looked at him, then, a profound sadness revealed in the depths of his dark eyes. “You’re handling this better than I would, in your shoes. I’ve had two mixed drinks and a glass of wine today. She’s not even my child. I feel like she is, though. Or a granddaughter, at least.”

  Hunter hadn’t even thought about what Heck might be feeling about Hannah’s disappearance. He sat on the couch across from Heck. “Hannah adores you. When she comes home ...” His voice caught. He’d spent so much of the last two days being strong for everyone else that he had yet to fully give in to his own feelings. Fists clenched over his knees, he swallowed back his tears, but instead of giving in to them, he distracted himself by offering Heck some compassion. It made him feel less vulnerable. “Brad told me about your wife’s condition. We didn’t know, Heck. If there’s anything we can do for you ...”

  “I suppose I never said anything because I don’t like to burden others with my problems.” When Hunter looked away, he rushed to add, “Now I’m sorry. That sounded rather callous.”

  “No, I kind of understand. I’m that way, too. Have been my whole life.” Suddenly, Heck’s reticence was a lot clearer to Hunter. He hadn’t been the way he was because he was without emotion. Quite the contrary. He had more than he could deal with sometimes.

  A pause opened up between them. They’d both said a lot in a few words and seemed to have reached some kind of understanding about each other.

  Finally, Hunter said, “Echo’s with Hannah.”

  Heck nodded once. “I heard. That’s good.”

  They fell silent again, both pretending to watch as the camera panned expansive spreads of intricate shrubbery and marble fountains. Hunter had just shifted forward, ready to excuse himself when Heck spoke.

  “We tried for years to have children.”

  Easing back against the cushion, Hunter stayed put.

  “On her forty-third birthday, Sophia learned she was pregnant. Our prayers had been answered. There were complications, however. She was relegated to bed rest, but the baby still came early. A tiny thing. Blue eyes and a tuft of yellow hair, the exact same shade as her mother’s. We never got to bring her home, though. Her lungs were too weak. In the end, she wasn’t strong enough. Sophia was heartbroken. So we looked into adoption. Twice, it fell though. Eventually, we gave up hope. It was too late in life for us to think about raising a child.” The TV cast the only light in the whole house. In its pale glow, Heck looked even older than his years. “I hope and pray they find her, Hunter. That little girl has so much to give to the world.”

  Nothing more between them to say, Hunter rose and went to the door. He wanted to tell Heck that hope, so far, hadn’t brought his daughter home, nor had prayers, but he wouldn’t say it out loud.

  Just as he put his hand on the knob to leave, he paused. “What was your daughter’s name, Heck?”

  “Hannah,” Heck said softly, as if calling to her in the quiet of the night. “He
r name was Hannah. When you showed up at my door and asked me to watch your Hannah, I thought ...” He shrugged off whatever he was about to say, then fixed Hunter with a pensive gaze. “Well, suffice it to say that if her name hadn’t been the same I would have said ‘no’. That would have been a great tragedy, because I would never have gotten to know your little girl.”

  A beam of headlights arced across the wall of Heck’s living room. He joined Hunter at the front door. An Adair County sheriff’s car had pulled in the driveway.

  Nate Bowden got out and came to the door, a lump of pink and purple tucked beneath his arm.

  Opening the door, Hunter’s hope dimmed as the realization dawned on him.

  “Dr. McHugh,” Sheriff Nate began, “they found her backpack in a river on the outskirts of Daniel Boone National Forest.” He held it out, a damp, muddy nylon backpack, one strap broken and tattered.

  His stomach coiling into knots, Hunter opened the zipper. Inside were a few extra articles of clothing, a travel book on Disney World, and a box of unopened cheese crackers, the cardboard container so saturated it was close to disintegrating.

  “Any sign of Hannah?” Hunter uttered.

  “Sorry, no. I’m afraid they’ve called off the search for the night, on account of darkness, but they’ll be back at it first thing in the morning.”

  It was only a backpack. Only a backpack. Hannah was still out there, somewhere. She had to be.

  “Go on home, Hunter,” Heck urged, placing a hand on his back. “Jenn and Maura need you.”

  “I can’t. I ...” Grief crashed through Hunter like a tsunami. Dropping the backpack, he covered his face with his hands. Morning was such a long way off. He tried to stop the torrent, but it slammed through him.

  “I’ll take you home,” the sheriff offered, turning aside to let him by.

  Still, Hunter didn’t move. He couldn’t. All he wanted was to wake up from this nightmare.

  Heck put his hands on Hunter’s shoulders. “Remember, she has Echo with her. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

  As much as Hunter tried to take consolation in that, there were so many unknowns. They were alone and lost, without food or water — an almost six-year-old girl and a dog — in a mountainous wilderness that stretched for tens of thousands of acres on yet another frigid winter night. How could they possibly survive that? he asked himself.