He wasn’t romanticizing the past, was he? Jumping to wild conclusions about Noelle’s ability to find Carissa when the rest of them had failed?
Noelle adored Carissa, and she needed to know what was happening. He was doing the right thing, if for no other reason than to inform Noelle about something she deserved to know, since she and the girl were family.
He turned right before he reached the city-limits sign, then drove six blocks and turned right again, admiring the picture-postcard attractiveness of this increasingly familiar neighborhood. Since running into Noelle in downtown Hideaway earlier this summer, Nathan had started finding more and more excuses to visit Springfield, despite the three-hour round trip.
As he pulled into her driveway—second house on the left, the gray brick with black trim—he spotted her red Ford Escort through the tiny square panes of the garage window, which meant Noelle hadn’t gone to work yet. Good. Maybe her partner could carry the load today, so Noelle could be free to come back to Hideaway with him immediately. After a cup of coffee; he really needed a strong dose of caffeine first.
Less than three seconds after Nathan rang the doorbell, Noelle opened the door. She focused on him slowly, pushing back a wave of tousled brown hair. Her brow cleared, and that familiar, affectionate smile lit the sleepy lines of her face.
“Nathan?”
“Morning,” he said, casting a glance at her long, teddy-bear nightshirt and terry-cloth robe. “Just get up?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She rubbed her eyes. “Thought I’d see if I had a paper yet.” She peered out at the empty sidewalk and front yard and shrugged. “Optimistic, I know. Come on in. Did you just get into Springfield? How about a cup of coffee? What are you doing here so early? Another meeting with those rural pharmacy suppliers?” She turned, leading the way back inside.
For a moment, instead of following her, he hesitated. Crazy. Definitely, he was crazy. What in the world made him think he could face this sane woman and blurt out what he’d been thinking? They were both adults now. Was he romanticizing memories? As a child, Noelle had possessed an extra special knowledge of certain events. Could she have that knowledge now?
She stopped and turned back, the tiny lines around her blue eyes deepening. “Nathan?”
“Coming.” He followed her into the foyer. “No meeting today. I came to see you. And coffee would be wonderful. Oh, and yes, I just got into Springfield.” Classical music played in the background, and he caught a whiff of pumpkin spice mingled with freshly brewed coffee.
She pulled a mug from a cupboard near the sink. “You came to Springfield at six-thirty in the morning—which would mean you left Hideaway at five? Ick! All this just to see me?” Her movements slowed and she turned, frowning at him. “So what’s up?”
“Your sister hasn’t called, has she?”
A heightened alertness stiffened her shoulders, and her eyes narrowed with sudden apprehension. “Why would Jill call me this early in the morning? What’s happened?”
“Carissa’s missing.”
Noelle stared at him for a moment, slow to comprehend what he was saying.
“She disappeared last night, somewhere between the house and the sawmill,” he continued gently. “We haven’t found her.”
Nathan’s words seemed to strike her one by one, in a timed delay. Then her eyes widened, and she drew in a deep breath.
Nathan reached for her as she paled.
She caught his arm. “Oh, no,” she breathed. “What…what time last night?”
“It was after dark, maybe around eight. She went down the hill to the sawmill to do some research for a school paper, and she was supposed to bring back a ledger for Cecil and Jill when she returned. She never returned.”
Noelle’s grip on Nathan’s arm tightened. “I can’t believe…they must be out of their minds with worry!”
“Cecil is blaming himself. Melva’s inconsolable.” Noelle had grown up in Cedar Hollow, down the lane from her cousin Cecil, and the two of them had been like brother and sister.
“And my sister?” she asked.
“Jill’s trying to reassure all of them, but it isn’t doing much good. Jill’s just as upset as the rest. I thought you’d want to help search.”
Years ago, when Noelle was in the process of a painful divorce from her abusive husband, she had returned to Hideaway to stay with her sister, Jill. During those months, she’d spent a lot of time with Cecil’s daughter, Carissa, forming a bond that had kept them close ever since. Though Jill lived in town, and Cecil’s family in sparsely populated countryside outside Hideaway—a hollow in the hills strewn with cedars, Carissa had used every excuse to visit Hideaway and spend the night.
Noelle released her grip on Nathan’s arm. “I’ll get dressed, and then I’ll follow you back. Put our coffee in a thermos, will you? There’s one in the cabinet above the stove.” She swung toward the hall, chatter gear kicking into high, as it always did when she attempted to tone down an emotional rush. “I’ll take my cell phone and arrange for extra help—”
“I’d hoped you would ride with me,” Nathan said before she could disappear into her bedroom.
She stopped and turned back, frowning. “Why? Then you’ll just have to drive me back home as soon as we find her.”
As soon as we find her. He’d always loved her positive attitude. “We need to talk on the way down,” he said. “I thought you might know some places we haven’t looked. You seem to have a special empathy with Carissa.”
“Can’t we do all that when we get there?”
He hesitated. Why did she have to be so contrary?
“Okay, fine, I’ll ride with you,” she said, changing her mind before he could speak, then pivoting again toward her bedroom. “Let’s just get there, okay?” She shut the door behind her.
Carissa awoke to the throb of pain in her head, and the sound of her own voice—a soft whimper that she had intended, in her dream, to be a loud cry for help. Staring into the thick blackness, she couldn’t remember the dream, or even why she’d been afraid—until she reached out and felt the hard, damp slab of stone beneath her, and heard the drip-drip of water somewhere nearby.
She barely suppressed another cry. Where was she?
She squeezed her eyes shut tight against the pain in her head and tried to think. Somebody had chased her. She remembered running back to the sawmill, someone grabbing her. She remembered falling. Then nothing. Whoever was chasing her had brought her here. But where was here? If only it weren’t so dark…if only she’d found her flashlight in the mud puddle.
Her eyes strained against the blackness. She blinked. Nothing. It was as if she were encircled by air as thick as tar. But if she could see nothing, then that meant nothing could see her. That thought brought some comfort. The darkness was her friend.
Unfortunately, it seemed she had an enemy more scary than the darkness had ever been when she was a little kid.
The drip of water caught her attention again. She turned toward the sound and gasped at the sudden burst of pain in the back of her head. Had her attacker knocked her out? Or had it been the fall?
And where was he now? Or was it a he?
Fear mingled with the pain. Carissa strained to see anything at all through the darkness, but there was no light. Her heartbeat pounded like a hammer on her skull. Her shallow breaths echoed against…what?
She raised her hand and tentatively pressed it deeper and deeper into the thick blackness. About a foot away from her face she touched something hard, and jerked back. She rubbed her fingers together and felt wetness. Forced herself to reach out again, she felt damp, gritty rock, forming a wall beside her.
A wall where?
Would her attacker come back? Maybe he thought she was dead. Maybe she would be dead if she stayed here.
She tried to sit up. Shafts of pain shot from her head all the way down her back, and she slumped sideways against the wall.
The smell of fresh, damp earth was familiar, but the sound of dripping
was different from the sounds of the woods where she’d been walking earlier. She touched the wall beside her once more, and again rubbed her fingers together. Gritty wetness. She heard the water dripping in the distance, with a hollow echo, as though the sound was contained.
An underground cavern of some kind? She’d been in enough caves with Justin to recognize the feel and smell of one. How long had she been here? A few minutes? Hours? She had to get out.
She leaned forward and braced herself against the wet wall, trying to breathe past the pain, the way Melva had told her to do when she’d broken her arm last year. She couldn’t let the pain stop her, or she might die here.
Slowly, she stood up. Keeping her hand on the cave wall, she inched her way forward, stumbling in the dark over rocks and pebbles. Was this the right thing to do? What if she was going in the wrong direction?
Pain spread from her head down her neck. She took shallow, quick breaths and thought about sunshine and safety.
She shuffled forward along the uneven rock for a few more minutes, keeping her right hand extended in front of her while staying in contact with the cave wall. A wrong step could plunge her to her death if there was a drop-off. Justin had warned her never to get lost in a cave. Too late now.
She felt along the surface of the mud-slick cavern floor with her toes until the pounding pain in her skull grew too harsh, then she paused to breathe away some of the throbbing.
A moment later, she continued inching forward.
But was she going the right way? Should she wait a little longer, in case someone was coming for her? Dad and Melva and Jill would be looking for her soon. People got lost in these Ozark caves. Some died. Maybe she should wait a little longer….
How had her attacker been able to carry her this way? Maybe she should—
Stone clattered against stone somewhere behind her, and she froze, listening. She almost called out, then she realized that Dad or Melva or Justin or Jill would be shouting for her. There was a shuffle of footsteps, another clatter of rock. Carissa dropped to her knees, pressing her lips together to keep from crying out at the sudden pain.
She waited.
Silence.
She crawled forward, keeping her left hand on the wall to guide her as the soles of her shoes slid across the muddy earth. She could hear her own loud breathing.
A flash of light shot over the dripping rocks, then disappeared. She froze to watch and listen.
Was that a whisper? Or just a change in rhythm of the dripping water?
The light flashed again, and Carissa caught sight of a stalagmite just ahead, with a shelf of white rock beyond it. A hiding place. If she could reach that spot and—
Another whisper, then the sound of footsteps. Someone was coming, but any other sounds of an approach disappeared in the thumping roar inside Carissa’s skull, pain growing worse as her fear mounted.
She scrambled past the fat stalagmite. Digging her fingers into tiny crevices, she pulled herself up the stone wall. A narrow space behind a slab of limestone looked like a perfect fit for her as the light flashed through the cave again. She crawled into the space, then collapsed, gritting her teeth against the sharp stabbing in her skull.
She heard the sound of rocks scattering, then footsteps below her. Light flickered across the white limestone. She cringed. Could she be seen?
There was a loud gasp. “No!” The voice was a whisper. The searcher paused, as if looking around. Then: “Carissa? Carissa…” Like the hiss of a snake.
More footsteps, as if the searcher roamed through the cave. More whispers echoed from the walls of rock, like the sound of dry leaves blowing in the wind, but Carissa couldn’t make out the words. She held her breath, trembling with terror.
That whisper…something about it was familiar. But what? Or maybe it wasn’t the voice. Maybe it was something else. She sniffed the air. A scent?
Whoever was holding that light and filling the cavern with whispers knew her name.
The footsteps shuffled past her hiding place, and the light faded in the distance. Darkness and silence floated down over her again like a shield. At last, all was dark, and all was silent once more.
Chapter Three
Noelle fastened her seatbelt and settled the thermos beside her as Nathan pulled out of her driveway. She fished her cell phone out from her purse then punched in Cecil’s home number. When a stranger answered, she asked about the status of the search and was told Carissa had not yet been found.
“Thanks.” She disconnected. “Nothing yet.”
“We can try again in a little while.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Oh, Carissa, where are you?
Nathan’s warm hand touched her arm. “You okay?”
She nodded as tears stung behind her closed lids. “I’m fine. Carissa will be, too.”
His hand tightened. “You know that for sure?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him, hearing the odd note in his voice. “I’m praying it’s true.” She hadn’t stopped praying since Nathan had broken the news to her. Actually, she’d been praying before that.
He nodded and returned his attention to the road.
She knew this drive well, all the rolling hills, stark cliffs and misty valleys that stretched from Springfield to Branson on Highway 65, and then west on 76 to the Hideaway turnoff. These wooded Ozark hills kept their secrets well.
She closed her eyes, once again picturing her young cousin’s smiling face, her mischievous blue eyes and shoulder-length ringlets of soft brown hair. Oh, Carissa.
Tears smarted Noelle’s eyes again, and she straightened in her seat. “Tell me about the search. Where have they looked? How many are helping?”
“No one has rested,” Nathan said. “Not even Aunt Pearl. They’ve combed Cedar Hollow from end to end. The police, the forest rangers, even some local guardsmen were called to help.”
“So you’re saying they called out the guards before they called me?” That stung, and yet she knew this wasn’t the time to allow her personal feelings to become involved. She’d called the Coopers last night from the store, and left a message on their machine.
“Sorry.”
“How’s Aunt Pearl holding up?” Noelle asked. Her sixty-seven-year-old great-aunt Pearl lived on the original family homestead, about a quarter mile from Cecil’s home. Cecil and his family lived in the same sprawling two-story house in which he had grown up, halfway between Pearl’s house and the sawmill. Ordinarily, a sawmill would need to be situated closer to civilization, but Cooper’s had been in operation for over fifty years, with an excellent reputation. It never lacked for business.
“I’ve hardly seen anything of her,” Nathan said. “She’s obviously upset.”
“How’s her heart?”
“She’s strong as an ox, you know that. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover she’s covered the whole property on foot herself.”
“Surely there have been places the searchers have missed,” Noelle said. “Nobody could possibly cover all two thousand acres in one night. Who, besides the guards and police, is searching?”
“Thirty people from regional search-and-rescue squads, plus the Cooper sawmill employees. Dane Gideon came over with his ranch hands before I left this morning, and as the word’s spread, the churches got involved. Everyone has combed the woods as thoroughly as possible, then started over again. When I left this morning, it looked as if there were more people than trees in that forest.”
Noelle felt a rush of gratitude for the strong community that had always been a part of Hideaway, and the surrounding countryside, and once again tears filled her eyes. “And family?”
“Cecil stays out there all the time. He won’t eat, won’t even sit down for a short rest.”
Noelle could easily believe that. The paternal instinct ran strong in her cousin. “What about Melva?” she asked. Cecil’s second wife had always adored Carissa and Justin. Indeed, the family joked that Melva had married Cecil because she’
d wanted to mother his children.
“She’s not holding up well at all,” Nathan said.
Noelle closed her eyes and willed herself not to let the tears fall. Why hadn’t they returned her call last night? She stayed up late waiting and praying, until she’d finally received assurance that everything would be okay. But now? Where was all that holy assurance now?
“Your sister’s been keeping a close eye on Melva,” Nathan said. “Typical Jill.”
Noelle sighed and turned her head to stare out the passenger window, across a rare open valley. “Jill didn’t call me.”
Nathan didn’t reply.
Noelle gave him a sharp glance. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Maybe you should have a talk with Jill when we get there.”
“Why?” She studied his expression. His attention remained on the road, hands at the ten and two position on the steering wheel, back straight, a sure sign he was covering. “Let me guess. She told everyone not to call me.”
He grimaced.
“She did!”
“She said you had a lot going on right now, and this would be too much for you.”
Noelle scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. She should have known better than to tell her sister about Joel’s return. Now Jill was all distressed, begging Noelle to scamper back home to Hideaway with her tail between her legs, like a whipped cur. Again. Jill to the rescue. Again. But Noelle didn’t need rescuing this time.
“She’s only concerned for your welfare,” he said.
“Don’t even start with that, Nathan. I’m thirty-six. She still sees me as a seven-year-old child who’s lost her mother. For Pete’s sake, that was twenty-nine years ago.” And Jill never seemed to remember that she’d lost her mother, too.
“She mentioned that you had a difficult time after the sawmill accident.”
“Sure I did. So did everyone else. It was shocking and horrible, and Jill didn’t even take time to grieve. She was too busy taking care of everyone else. Come on, Nathan, she’s pulling the big-sister act again. It isn’t healthy for her or anyone else. And besides, that accident was ten years ago. I wasn’t exactly in the best mental state at the time.”
Last Resort Page 2
