Page 51 of Everlasting Promises

“Jesus. She’ll be freezing.”

He nods, a grim expression tightening the area around his eyes and mouth. “Yeah. Time is of the essence. If you head to the reception desk, they have an item belonging to Anne for Rex. We need to hurry.”

“Got it.” I tug on Rex’s lead. “C’mon, Rex. Let’s get started.”

We head inside, where it’s significantly warmer, and I wonder how on earth someone known to have dementia can walk out the front door without being stopped or, at the very least, noticed.

The receptionist hands me a plastic bag with what looks to be a pillow case inside. “Once the police requested an item of Anne’s, we thought it best to seal it in a bag to prevent our scent from being added to it.”

I tip my head and give her a grateful smile. “Thank you. Appreciate it.”

The woman fidgets. “I feel so bad. I left the desk to go to the bathroom. I was only gone a few minutes. That must have been when she wandered out with a group of visitors. I’m so sorry.”

It’s not me who she needs to apologize to, so I just tip my head in acknowledgement, then crouch down to Rex and pull the bag open. “Okay, Rex. Take a deep, long sniff. Let’s find Anne and bring her home safely.”

He buries his nose into the bag and sniffs the fabric, then drops his snout to the carpet, sniffing the surrounding area. I climb to my feet, holding the bag in case he needs a refresher along the way. I never know how long a search will take, because it’s impossible to predict how far someone’s traveled in the time they’ve been missing. He moves toward the large glass doors and they slide open, exposing us to the chill of the night.

Rex obviously has a potent scent, and I follow his lead.

One hour passes—and another. White clouds form in front of my face with each breath I take, and there’s still no sign of Anne. Her lack of appropriate clothing for the cool of the night increases my concern by the minute. She’s not even wearing shoes on her damn feet.

Rex heads into a playground and sniffs around the swings. “What is it, boy?” He looks up at me, his tail wagging. “Where’s Anne?”

He barks in response.

He takes off again toward the opposite side of the playground, stopping at the slide and the climbing frame. We head down the sidewalk and keep moving through the darkened streets, lit every ninety feet by the soft yellow glow of the street lamps.

We’ve traveled a good eight miles so far, and still no sign of her. My stomach drops as my worry for her well-being grows. Rex has an exceptional search-and-find success rate, one of the best on the force, so I’m confident we’ll find her. My concern is for what state she’ll be in when we do.

Yet another hour passes, and we’re closing in on 10:30. The temperature’s dropped since we started our search, and she’s been missing for seven hours now.

Rex veers off the sidewalk, passes through a rusted metal gate, and steps onto a stone walkway that’s overgrown with weeds, leading up to a porch with more rotten planks than Iwould trust to support my weight. The smashed windows of the home are dirty with years of grime, and it looks as though it’s been abandoned for decades.

Rex bolts to the darkest corner, and a lump comes into view. My heart sinks as I drop to my knees beside the elderly woman. She’s unnaturally still, and I rest my hand on her back, noting the lack of body heat and movement. I shift my hand up and over her shoulder, placing two fingers on the side of her throat, and dip down so my cheek is next to her mouth and nose.

Nothing.

Devastation washes over me, and I drop my head out of respect. “I’m sorry, Anne.” I shake my head and remove my jacket, gently placing it over her body, covering as much of her as I can. I know it won’t make any difference, but it feels wrong to leave her exposed to the cold.

I make the call that I’ve found her and give our location, then drop to my butt to sit beside her, taking her frozen hand in mine.

Rex whines and drops to his stomach on her other side, lying close and sharing his body heat with her.

My thoughts go to her family and the pain they’re about to experience with the loss of their loved one. She was possibly someone’s wife, mother, aunt, sister. She was definitely someone’s daughter. She lived a long life, and this is how it ends for her—frozen and alone. It’s so damn tragic. And so unfair.

While I wait for support to arrive, I can’t help but think about the relief in Hope’s voice when I told her I had to work. I’m man enough to admit it stung a little. I had hoped we were at least beginning to build on the initial stages of friendship—and maybe we are, but she’s scared.

I’ve caught her checking me out, so I think she’s attracted to me on some level. Maybe she feels guilty when she promised herself to Wyatt, but I doubt he’d want her to be alone for therest of her life. If she were my wife, I know I wouldn’t want that for her.

There are no blue and red flashing lights when the team arrives, and we efficiently and respectfully work together to do what needs to be done for Anne.

It’s almost midnight when I finish with the necessary paperwork and head out of the station. I’m beat. And starving—I didn’t have time to eat dinner. The thought of going home to an empty house is unappealing after seeing Anne curled into a ball, alone on the porch of an abandoned house.

My phone buzzes, so I drag it out of my pocket.

Cookie

I hate to bother you, but I wanted to check if you found the lady you were looking for

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