Page 25 of Their Reluctant Catch

“She left after lunch. It’s nearly dark, and she’s not answering her phone. It goes straight to voicemail.”

A glance at the clock confirms it. The sun’s already dipping, the sky bleeding into deep grays and blues. The temperature is dropping, too.

“She takes short hikes,” Diana continues. “She’s still adjusting to the cold. This isn’t like her.”

“She’s on foot?” Todd blows out a breath on a whoosh. “Her car’s still not fixed?”

“No. The parts haven’t arrived yet.”

“So, she’s walking, right?”

“Yes.” Diana’s voice is so small, I hardly can hear her.

Silence hangs for a beat. I don’t like it.

“Any idea where she went?” Todd asks.

“No.”

The single word is clipped and louder than before. Diana isn’t one to overreact, but her panic and worry are clear.

“All right,” Todd says. “One of us will start from the dock in case she came that way. The other will head to the B&B.”

“Jack and Elliot already went looking,” Diana tells us. “Mason’s in Bangor. There’s a gallery exhibit featuring local artists next week, and he’s setting up his work.”

Todd nods. He’s clearly already shifting gears in his head.

“I’ll call Jack and Elliot, make sure we’re covering all compass points,” he promises before severing the call.

“I’ll take the dock,” I offer before he can assign it to me.

He glances at me but doesn’t argue.

“Call me if you find her.” He grips my shoulder and squeezes, and I reach up and lay my palm over his hand.

“You, too.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks.

Then he exhales. “I’m worried.”

I don’t answer. Instead, I throw the door open and step out, boots hitting the ground hard.

Yeah. I’m worried, too.

And I don’t like this one damn bit.

I start jogging toward the docks, scanning from left to right. Occasionally, I call out her name. Nothing.

It doesn’t take me long to reach the docks.

It’s too quiet; she isn’t here.

I stand at the edge, scanning the shoreline, my gut tightening. The wind picks up and ruffles my hair and jacket. The water laps against the pilings. Normally, the sound is grounding. Right now, it’s nothing but noise.

Savannah’s tough—hell, she’s handled herself pretty damn well since she arrived—but she’s not from around here. She doesn’t know the land like we do. And she sure as hell isn’t used to hiking in Maine’s unpredictable terrain.

I check my phone. Nothing.

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