“I don’t want to scare him into hiding.” Adam’s voice was laced with anguish.
“Ask them to be subtle about it. No sirens. Talk to Robbie McGraw. He’ll handle it the way you want.”
“I’ll call you back.”
Hannah disconnected and hit the accelerator. She concentrated on steering her car through the sharp mountain curves so her mind wouldn’t keep conjuring up images of Satchmo suffering the agony of a broken leg or Matt lying still at the bottom of a ravine. Or both.
One of Adam’s comments nagged at her. Why would he think Matt had run away? They were going to Disney World. Surely the boy was looking forward to that.
Then she remembered. Today was the Monday before Thanksgiving, and Matt’s newly discovered relatives would be arriving in two days. Had Adam said something to his son about going to live with them?
The car skidded on a turn, and she eased her pressure on the accelerator. Her headlights lit the thickening snowfall, and she swore at the weather as anxiety began to tighten her throat.
At last she turned through the brick gateposts marking Healing Springs Stables. The barns were ablaze with lights when she parked in the lot. She was relieved to see a police car pulled up in front of the big stable door. Robbie must have been close by when Adam called.
Grabbing her medical bag and dashing across the whitening gravel, she collided with Sharon as she ran through the barn door. “Whoa there, doc,” the other woman said, grabbing Hannah’s arm to steady her. “We don’t need you gettin’ hurt.”
Hannah froze. “Did you find them? Is someone hurt?”
“No, no sign of them yet,” Sharon said with a shake of her head.
Her spike of fear eased. “Where’s Adam?”
Sharon nodded toward the barn’s central corridor. Hannah pivoted and saw Adam talking to a police officer whose back was to her. “What’s happening now?” she asked Sharon.
The woman’s face went grim. “I just called in all my riders. It’s too dark to risk the horses out there any longer. If they haven’t found them by now, they’re not on any of the trails.”
Hannah fought back her panic as she walked toward Adam, who was too engrossed in his conversation to notice her. He wore his standard casual attire of black jeans and a black leather jacket.
How could she still feel that gut-deep thrill at the sight of him when he’d been so brutal about ending things between them?
Then she saw his face, and compassion swamped every other emotion. His eyes were haunted, and the lines around his mouth were so sharp they appeared to be carved into his skin. He looked like a man who’d lost everything.
His gaze shifted from the policeman to her, and for a moment his eyes lit with relief and welcome. “Hannah!” He said something to the officer and strode forward to meet her, his hands outstretched with the palms up. She saw the exact moment when he realized he no longer could expect her to greet him with the same warmth.
But this was not the time to deny him whatever comfort she could give. She took his hands in hers, feeling the heat and strength of his touch. “I—” he began before shaking his head, the momentary light extinguished from his gaze.
“I have an idea,” she said, leaping past the awkwardness. “You said Trace was trained as a police dog. I think you should bring him here, along with a piece of Matt’s clothing. Maybe he can help us find Matt and Satch.”
“Why didn’t I think of that?” His grip tightened on her hands as hope flickered across his face. “I’ll call my housekeeper, Sarah. Trace will get in the car with her, I’m sure.” He released one of her hands to brush his fingertips down her cheek. “I knew you would help.” He let go of her other hand and pulled out his cell phone, walking away to make the call.
Hannah shivered as his touch seemed to ricochet through her. Scrubbing at her cheek to erase the sensation, she hurried to join Sharon and Robbie McGraw, the police officer. They were discussing where the trails intersected the local roads and highways while the policeman took notes.
“We’ll use unmarked cars,” Robbie said, “so we don’t spook them. I’ll get on the radio in my cruiser and direct the search.” He flipped his notebook closed and blew out a breath. “In this weather, we need to find them sooner rather than later.”
As the officer walked away, Sharon turned to Hannah, worry disrupting her normally unflappable calm. “I just don’t see Matt doing something as irresponsible as running away with Satchmo. He loves that pony and he wouldn’t risk having him come to harm.”
“Adam’s arranging to get his dog Trace here. I think we should take the dog out on the trail Matt said he was taking. If anyone can find a boy and a pony, it’s a police-trained German Shepherd.”
“That’s using your noggin,” Sharon said. “Let’s get a search party equipped.”
“I think we should keep it to Adam and me,” Hannah said. “If Matt is hiding for some reason, he might not want to show himself to a large group. He trusts me, so I’m hoping he’ll respond if he sees or hears me.”
Adam walked up to them in time to hear her last comment. A shadow crossed his face, but he nodded in agreement. “Sarah’s bringing Trace as fast as she can.”
Sharon pulled a paper from her jacket pocket and unfolded it. “Here’s the same trail map I gave Matt. He told me he was taking the Rhododendron Trail.” She traced a green line that wound along the foot of the mountain in a misshapen loop, twice crossing a blue line marked “Second Creek.”
“How deep’s the creek?” Hannah asked.
“Depends,” Sharon said. “But this time of year it wouldn’t be above Matt’s waist, even at the deepest point. And those bridges are solid. We inspect them every six months.”
A fleeting look of relief crossed Adam’s face as he tucked the map into the pocket of his jeans.
Sharon eyed his fashionable jacket and smooth-soled leather boots. “While we’re waiting for Trace, let’s get you two some warm clothes and a thermos of hot chocolate for when you find Matt. Neither one of you is dressed for hiking through the woods in the snow.”
She led the way to the tack room, where she pulled open a door to reveal a walk-in closet housing a kaleidoscopic array of boots, jackets, gloves, and hats. “People leave stuff here all the time and never claim it. If you can’t find anything that fits, let me know, and I’ll borrow something from one of the stable hands.” She left them alone in the small space, saying she would be back with the thermos. “And I’ll load your medical supplies into the backpack as well.”
Feeling Adam’s presence acutely, Hannah pulled a puffy, quilted jacket in bright turquoise off a hook. “Too small.” She hung it back up and randomly yanked down a black fleece.
“I had no right to call you.” His voice vibrated down her spine.
She turned to face him, hugging the fleece to her chest. “What happened between us doesn’t change my feelings for Matt…or Satchmo.”
His posture sagged but his gaze never left her face. “Your feelings for me have changed, though.”
It was almost a question, but Hannah wasn’t going to answer it. Her feelings for him had not changed. That was the problem. She turned and blindly snatched another coat, fumbling at the collar for the tag.
She sensed him behind her before he took her shoulders in a gentle grip. “Thank you for being here.” His breath moved through her hair, so she knew his lips were very close.
“We’ll find them,” she said, fighting the urge to lean back against him.
As she’d half-hoped, the reminder of their purpose made him release her. She heard fabric rustle against fabric. When she glanced over her shoulder, he’d shed his jacket to reveal a black silk T-shirt.
Wrenching her gaze away from the column of his throat, she focused her attention on locating the right clothes. It took only a few minutes, despite the distraction of Adam shrugging into a maroon ski
jacket mere inches from her.
“You couldn’t find a black one?” she asked without thinking, as she wound an orange-and-blue wool scarf around her neck.
The ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I’m branching out.” He thrust his hands into the jacket’s pockets and pulled out a black ski glove from each one. “Not far, though.”
She looked down at his boots. “You’re not going to get far in the snow in those.” Luckily, she was wearing the Timberland boots Matt had teased her about, now scuffed to fashion perfection. The memory of that first tentative connection over his red high-tops brought her fear back to the forefront. “It’ll be quicker if we both look through these. What size do you wear?”
“Ten and a half,” he said, removing his unsuitable shoes. As he padded over to the footwear shelf in his stocking feet, a pang of memory hit her. She remembered him stretched out in front of the fire, wearing his trousers with his long, narrow feet bare. She shoved the image away and grabbed the first boot on the shelf.
“Not my style,” he said, as she looked down to see pink and purple kitties prancing across the child-sized rubber footgear.
“I was moving it,” she said, setting it on the floor and choosing a giant L. L. Bean boot. It was a size 13.
“Got them,” he said, dropping a black, furry mukluk on the floor beside his feet.
“Still with the black.” It felt comfortable and somehow right to be teasing him about his clothing choices to distract him from the frightening situation. Yet he wanted to cut her off from that kind of intimacy.
She tugged a balaclava over her head, tucking the mouth covering down under her chin before she shoved her hands into a pair of insulated purple mittens. “I’ll see you outside,” she said, barging out the door.
She found a hay bale to sit on in the barn’s corridor. The riders had returned and were swinging saddles off the backs of steaming horses before rubbing them down and leading them back to their stalls. The usual barrage of humorous insults was absent; the riders took care of their mounts with swift efficiency before congregating near the tack room door.
Adam emerged, the borrowed clothes looking as though they’d been styled just for him. One of the stable hands stopped him. “We want to go out on foot to keep looking.”
He surprised her by saying, “I’ll take all the help I can get. I’m bringing in a tracking dog, so let’s talk to your boss about how to coordinate our efforts.”
Sharon emerged from a nearby door, and the group converged on her, making their offer again. She glanced at Adam with a question in her eyes. He nodded his permission. Within minutes she had parceled out assignments and sent off several grooms to locate more flashlights. “But nobody moves until we give the dog a chance to work,” she reminded them.
A murmur of assent went up from the group as they settled around the corridor in small clumps, speaking quietly among themselves out of respect for a father’s worry.
Hannah sat on the hay bale, listening to the soothing sounds of the horses munching on hay, rattling water buckets, and rustling around in their bedding. She wanted to close her eyes and let the scent of the big, warm bodies calm her, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the figure pacing back and forth in front of the half-open barn door, his gaze swinging out to search the thickening snowfall every few seconds.
Finally he was rewarded with the flash of headlights and the sound of car tires crunching over the gravel. Hannah shoved to her feet as the engine went quiet, and a dark shape streaked in through the door. Adam knelt to press his face against Trace’s thick fur for a brief moment, and she knew he was drawing comfort from the dog’s presence. Then he rose to take a folded bundle of fabric from the woman who hurried through the doorway.
Hannah walked up to the two of them, greeting the housekeeper before she turned to Adam. “Sharon’s bringing something of Satchmo’s too. Can he handle two scents at once?”
Adam frowned. “I’m not sure. Maybe I could hold them together and give him the command.”
Sharon jogged up the corridor, carrying a flashlight, a lantern, a backpack, and a saddle pad. Adam grabbed the backpack and shrugged it on before Hannah could object, so she took the lantern and flashlight. Adam bunched Matt’s shirt and Satchmo’s saddle pad together in one hand and reached for the flashlight.
“One last thing,” Sharon said, pulling a long-distance walkie-talkie out of her back pocket. “This is better than a cell phone up here in the mountains. Give me a beep with this every fifteen minutes, so I know you’re still searching. And holler if you need any help.”
Sharon’s brief instructions left unsaid all the possible scenarios of disaster that none of them wanted to contemplate. “I’ll take that,” Hannah said, holding out her hand for the walkie-talkie and looking at Adam. “You’ll need to keep an eye on Trace.”
He nodded, his mouth a grim, straight line.
Hannah switched on the lantern. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 29
YANKING UP HER balaclava, Hannah stepped out into the swirling snow. The weather was going to make Trace’s job more difficult. She prayed Matt and Satchmo were together so the boy could use the pony’s body heat to stave off the cold.
“Damn it,” Adam muttered beside her, obviously plagued by thoughts similar to hers. He set off at a fast walk, with Trace’s dark shape gliding along beside him. Hannah had to jog to keep up, but she didn’t complain.
They wound past the barns and paddocks, arriving at the beginning of the trail Sharon had pointed out on the map. Adam knelt beside Trace and let the dog snuffle at the bundle of fabrics in his hand. He stroked the dog’s sleek head once before saying in a voice almost harsh with command, “Go find!”
Trace’s big, triangular ears flicked straight up as he took one last look at his master before lifting his nose into the snowy air and sniffing.
Hannah watched in fascination as Trace cast back and forth across the trail, first with nose up and then with nose to the ground. Adam had the flashlight turned on but aimed away from the dog so as not to distract him. She held her breath, waiting for some sign the dog had picked up a scent.
Trace stopped and looked down the trail with a whine.
“Go find!” Adam repeated. Once again, the dog looked at him before he set off at a trot, his nose lifted.
“I think he’s got something, but it must be faint,” he said, turning the flashlight on the trail just in front of them. “Otherwise he’d be more excited.”
Disappointment nagged at her as they started after Trace. “You don’t think he’s confused by having two scents to follow, do you?”
“I wish I knew.” Adam was silent for several strides. “Trace has bonded with Matt, so I’m sure he recognizes that scent. And the pony is so much bigger his trail should be easy to follow.”
Hannah pinged Sharon on the walkie-talkie and jogged a couple of steps to match Adam’s long stride. The trail was well manicured; no roots or rocks offered hazards to stumble over. Which meant Matt and Satchmo must have wandered off it. Or had deliberately left it. “Why did you say Matt might have run away?”
The silence lasted so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. “He doesn’t want the O’Briens to come for Thanksgiving.”
“He knows your plans?”
“I don’t know my plans.” His tone was abrupt.
Surprise made Hannah stumble slightly, and his grip closed like a vise on her elbow as he steadied and released her. The pressure of his hand lingered. Was he having second thoughts about the adoption? Hope bloomed inside her.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked.
She realized she was rubbing her elbow where he’d grabbed her. She dropped her hand. “No, I’m fine.”
He pointed the beam of the flashlight into the flake-filled darkness in front of them, just catching the gleam of Trace’s coat as the German Shepherd zigzagged ac
ross the path. The dog continued to move forward, which encouraged Hannah.
The trail left the cleared land of Sharon’s farm and plunged into the woods, the heavy rhododendron thickets on either side of it creating a narrow tunnel. The snowfall became lighter as some of the flakes were caught on overarching branches.
“After you left on Tuesday, I—” He sounded as though the words were forcing themselves out of his throat. “I went to The Aerie. To the wine cellar.”
A terrible pressure squeezed Hannah’s chest. She’d driven him back to his addiction. “I’m so sorry.”
“That’s not why I’m telling you. I picked out the best bottle of wine down there, opened it, and filled a glass to the brim. I took a mouthful of it, a spectacular 1989 Pétrus.”
Her free hand clenched into a fist as regret tore through her.
“And then I spit it out.” He made a jagged sound that was meant to be a laugh. “I poured an entire six-thousand-dollar bottle of Pétrus down the sink.”
“That’s—that’s wonderful!” She fought down the urge to throw her arms around him.
“Your face stopped me.”
“My face?”
“It was there in front of me, and I couldn’t disappoint you again.”
She forced herself to keep walking beside him, even though she wanted to step in front of him to see his expression. “I–I’m glad you found the strength to fight it.”
“I came far too close,” he said. “Closer than I’ve come in years.”
“You stopped!” She nearly shrieked at him. Why couldn’t he see it as an act of strength instead of weakness?
“I shouldn’t have started.” He shone the flashlight ahead again. Trace had his nose to the ground twenty feet in front of them. The dog whined as the beam fell on him. Adam brought the circle of light in closer to them. “What happens the next time Matt pulls something like this? What keeps me from the Pétrus then?”
“I’ll give you a photograph of myself you can pin up in the wine cellar,” Hannah said, frustration driving her to sarcasm.
The Place I Belong Page 29
