Page 29 of Their Reluctant Catch

Flooring the gas pedal, I call Diana again. A cat takes a sprint in front of me, but I slow down enough to see her dart into the tall grass on the opposite side of the road.

Diana says, “Did you find her?”

“Colton did.”

“Is she hurt? Where did she go? What took her so long?”

I press the phone between my shoulder and ear. “I don’t know.”

“Where was she? What happened?”

A sigh escapes me. “Diana—please.”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t know. Go get them. I’ll call Elliot and Jack.”

“Thanks.” I pull the phone from my ear and drop it.

The rear tires skid as I turn into Main Street.

I give a sharp yank on the wheel and force my right foot to ease back a little.

The van jerks back in line.

I’m more careful now. Better to be a few minutes later, than drive the van into a ditch.

My blood is rushing in my ears, my heart still pounding like I’m running the distance instead of driving.

I reach the fork in the road where it branches off to Rock Harbor Road going southeast and leading to the docks. I take Hemlock Ridge Road.

Only one house stands on Hemlock Ridge Road about a mile from Main Street. I speed by the large, two-story log cabin nestled among the trees, belonging to the schoolteacher Mr. Samuel “Sam” Whitaker and the grocery store owner Henry Lawson. The town whispers about the men being more than just housemates, speculating since neither has ever been seen with a woman. I don’t know and don’t care. To each their own.

I whiz by the dark wood exterior blending into the rugged landscape. The warm glow of interior lights spills through the large front window.

I slow to a crawl when I reach the trail sign, but gravel still rattles against the undercarriage as I take the dirt road leading into the wooded area, the branches clawing at the paint.

I don’t care. All I care about are my brother and Savannah.

After a few hundred yards, the trail narrows. I have no choice but to continue on foot. The van won’t fit.

I throw it into park, grab the blanket from the back—a thick, smoky fabric that smells like salt and sea—and the flashlight before I take off.

The light bounces over the frozen ground, catching jagged roots and half-melted patches of snow. My breath comes out in a hazy vapor.

“Colton? Savannah?” The sound echoes into the dark.

No answer. I grip the blanket more tightly and increase my speed.

Call their names again.

A second of silence.

“Todd!”

It’s Colton.

I push harder, my breath coming fast as I round the bend. My flashlight beam bounces across the rough terrain before landing on them.

Savannah is wrapped in an emergency blanket, her body pressed against Colton’s side. He’s holding her up, supporting most of her weight, but it’s her face that sends a jolt through me—too pale against the darkness, lips barely parted, and her expression blank with exhaustion or shock.

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