Page 21 of Searching Blind

Sawyer turned his face toward her, pale eyes glistening. “I thought it was for the best. I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“You should have let me decide that. I needed—” She stopped short, emotion closing her throat.

You.

God had she needed him. His quiet strength. His gentle understanding. His optimism. His jokes. During those long days in the hospital, he had been her rock. And when he disappeared from her life, she’d felt as if her anchor had been ripped away, leaving her adrift.

Lucy looked down at her lap, blinking back tears. She had needed him so much back then. And if she was being honest with herself, she still needed him now. The old anxiety was creeping through her like a cancer, bringing with it the hypervigilance and bone-deep fear that had plagued her for so long after the attack.

She looked up at him again, opened her mouth to tell him all of that, but a loud thump sounded from the stairs, startling her.

They both turned toward the sounds as Grant pushed through the door, arms laden with full water jugs. Ethan jumped up to help him haul them over to the counter.

“That should be enough to get us through tomorrow at least,” Grant said.

Lucy pressed her lips together. Their conversation would have to wait. She stood, legs stiff from sitting still after such a strenuous hike, and went to check on Maya. The woman’s breathing seemed a little less labored now, her face not quite so pale.

Small miracles.

Maybe she still had a fighting chance.

Maybe they would all make it out of here in one piece.

chapter

seven

The murmur of voices woke Sawyer from a restless sleep. He opened his eyes, but it was too dark to even see his usual splashes of light and shadow.

He closed his eyes again and focused on the sounds, the muffled voices too indistinct to tell whether they were male or female. Boots creaked over the old wood floor. A thunk. Something that sounded like… a strangled shout? A thump. Zelda growled deep in her chest. It was a strange sound and he put his hand on her head to comfort her. His girl almost never growled.

Crash.

Everyone came awake as glass broke and a cool breeze swirled into the cabin. Sawyer thrust himself upwards, heart pounding with a sudden surge of adrenaline. “Lucy!”

“I’m here.” Her hand closed around his. She was still by his side. “Everyone’s okay.” She sounded like she was trying to assure herself as much as everyone else. “It’s just another storm rolling through. The wind broke a window.”

He could feel the wind, damp and cool, on his face. Hear it howling through the opening like a ghostly wail.

“I got it,” Ethan said. “Someone grab that plywood over there.”

“Got it,” Grant said.

Sawyer heard them shuffling around, wrestling the plywood sheet over the broken window, heard the hammer of nails going into wood. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. And then it was quiet again.

Too quiet.

Something was wrong.

There weren’t enough breath sounds for the number of people in the room.

“I don’t hear Maya’s breathing.” He shoved to his feet, fumbled for his cane and tapped his way over to the cot. He found Maya’s arm with his hand. Her skin was unnaturally cold. He traced up her arm to her chest—no movement.

A chill of dread seeped into his bones as he slowly drew back. His hand was wet. He raised it to his nose and sniffed. Blood. It was cold and slightly gummy between his fingers. Coagulating.

“Oh, no,” Lucy said, horror in her voice. “Grant! Help! Maya’s not breathing.”

Sawyer caught her before she could launch a rescue. “Luce. She’s already gone.”

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