Nightwatch (9 page)

Suddenly, something caught the back of her jacket and she was thrown off balance.

“No!” she screeched, instinctively knowing she must not surrender.

A bulky, shadowy figure grabbed her wrist in a viselike grip when she pivoted and tried to strike back.

“No! Let me go!”

She thrashed. Kicked wildly and swung at him with her free arm, hoping to somehow inflict injury.

Her imposing captor laughed as though he considered her resistance funny.

Anger added to the strength behind Jill's panic. She intensified her efforts. Her knee connected with the man's body and doubled him over.

He cursed and whipped the hand holding her wrist to one side, apparently intending to fling her to the ground.

That was all the opportunity she needed. Wrenching free, she rolled across the leaves and dirt, wincing when her ribs connected with a low, rocky outcropping.

She gained her hands and knees then pushed off,
struggled to her feet and stayed standing long enough to scramble away.

It didn't matter which way she went. Not anymore. Her wrist and arm ached and she had a stitch in her side but all she cared about was escape.

The curses of at least one man—maybe two—echoed.

That was a positive sign because the sound was fading as she put more distance between herself and the scene of the attack.

As Jill plunged through the dark woods she was hardly able to think, let alone pray. Nevertheless, she managed a breathless, heartfelt, “Thank You, Jesus.”

Later, when she was sure she'd made a clean getaway, she'd ask God for directions that would lead her to Mitch. Right now, however, all she could do, must do, was keep running.

 

Rising, pivoting and listening to muted noises echo through the forest, Mitch took his cue from Jill's dogs. They had both perked up and started looking in the same direction, wagging their tails as if they were certain she was nearby.

“Praise the Lord,” he whispered. “It's about time.” He smiled at Timmy. “You stay right there and hold on to the dogs' collars so they don't run off.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. I just don't want to have to go looking for anybody or anything else. Not after the day I've had.”

“Okay.”

Mitch knew that Jill's big dogs could have easily pulled free from the boy's grasp. He also knew their temperament well enough to doubt they'd try unless
they got the notion that one of their human flock was wandering too far afield and needed to be brought back into the fold.

The imaginary picture of Jill being herded out of the woods like a lost lamb and reunited with him and the boy amused Mitch. As far as he was concerned, that was exactly where she belonged. With him. He was in way over his head with regard to his feelings for her. The only good part was that she didn't know he'd broken his promise of platonic friendship. Hopefully, she never would.

Pausing, he listened intently. If he'd brought a flashlight he'd have signaled with it. Too bad they'd left her house in broad daylight and he hadn't thought to bring the right gear. Given his profession, that kind of mistake was inexcusable.

It was also understandable. They'd had little time to plan, let alone provision themselves sensibly. If they'd delayed they might have lost sight of the dogs—and then where would they be?

“Probably right where we are,” he mumbled, feeling suitably contrite.

In the background, the boy was perched on a fallen tree, cajoling the dogs and holding on to their collars.

“It's okay,” Tim crooned. “You be good. She'll come.”

Mitch sincerely hoped the kid was right about that. He'd thought, judging by the earlier sounds, that Jill would have reached their position by now. Since she hadn't, he was wondering if it was safe to venture out a little way and look for her.

First, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Jill? Hey, Jill. Over here.”

There was no reply.

“Jill? Is that you?”

The lack of response when he'd expected one gave Mitch the shivers and made him more wary.
Okay.
He'd called to her. And she hadn't answered.
So now what?

Mitch returned to Tim. “I want you to sit tight, understand?”

As more thunder rumbled in the distance he grabbed a stick and carefully poked the deeper leaves in the boy's vicinity to make sure there were no hidden, hibernating snakes. “If it starts to rain, crawl under this log and try to stay dry. I'll be right back.”

“You said you wouldn't leave me.”

“I'll be where I can still see you. That white dog shows up like a beacon, even in the dark.”

“What's a beacon?”

“A bright light that leads lost people safely home,” Mitch explained. “You know. Like you sing about in Sunday school sometimes.”

“Yeah, okay. I know.”

“Good.” Mitch was anxious to venture farther away, yet afraid to go too far. Still, if Jill was out there and needed him…

Knock it off,
he ordered, grimacing. According to Brother Logan Malloy, his preacher at Serenity Chapel, the Lord never gave believers tougher trials than they could handle. If that was true, he should be able to spot Jill without losing sight of Tim and the dogs.

“Yeah, right.” Mitch took a deep breath and released it with a whoosh. He liked being in a position to help people. His chosen career proved that. But it was driving him crazy that he couldn't be in two or three places at once.

Lightning flashed. Thunder followed, muting the sound of something crashing in the distance. He thought he heard a squeaky, female shriek, then coarse voices that sounded anything but happy.

He shot a quick look at Tim and saw that the boy was following orders to the letter. He had not only shimmied beneath the fallen tree for shelter, he'd managed to drag the dogs most of the way under with him.

“Jill! Jill, I'm here,” Mitch shouted, straining to listen to every creak and groan of the woodlands and hoping the mounting storm wouldn't cover her reply.

“Jill!” He pivoted and called in a different direction. “Jill…”

Thunder crashed. Raindrops the size of quarters began to pelt him. Mitch decided to rejoin the boy.

Then he froze. An unmistakable sound chilled him to the bone. It was a woman's piercing scream!

J
ill was panting. Winded and spent beyond anything she'd ever experienced.

Thanks to the howl of the approaching storm she could barely hear her own footsteps, let alone keep track of whoever might still be trailing her, so she simply ran.

Branches overhead whistled and cracked in the strong wind, sending down showers of the previous autumn's unshed leaves in a tumbling, whirling mass. Large drops of rain were sparse, at first, then began to hit her with more regularity.

“The only good thing is that this will cover any noise I make.
And
get whoever is after me just as wet as I'll be,” she muttered cynically.

If only she could be sure Mitch, Tim and Megan had taken shelter. She had to believe Mitch had located those lost children by now. The alternative was too horrible to imagine.

Rain began in earnest. It broke through the smattering of spring leaves as if they weren't even there. In minutes Jill was soaked.

She wiped her face with one hand while pushing
brush aside with the other. Visibility had been poor before. Now, the only time she could see where she was going was when lightning flashed.

The trouble was, that meant that anyone who happened to be behind her could also clearly see
her
.

 

“Stay there.”

Without waiting for Tim to reply to his shouted command, Mitch plunged into the trees in the direction of the scream, detouring only when tightly packed stands of hickory saplings forced him to skirt them.

Night had fallen but thanks to the storm he was often able to catch brighter glimpses of the terrain.

One flash brought his heart into his throat. He hesitated, waiting for another and praying he hadn't been imagining Jill's blond hair.

He stared. Prayed. The flash repeated. It was her! And she was on the move, darting in and out of the shadows, her path erratic.

Mitch didn't spot anyone else, although judging by the way she was moving and glancing over her shoulder she obviously thought she was being pursued.

Since he had just called to her he figured she'd realize he was close by. When she started to bypass him, however, he lunged to stop her.

Jill reacted like a trapped tiger, mindlessly clawing and fighting.

“Hey! Quit it. It's me.”

Something in her muzzy brain must have registered enough to bring her to her senses because she stopped flailing.

“It's okay, honey. I've gotcha,” Mitch said. “You're safe. I promise.”

The sky lit. He saw her jaw gape. Her eyes were so wide they looked unreal. She blinked. “T-Timmy?”

“He's safe, too.” Mitch pointed. “He's right over there, under that big log with your dogs.”

Jill went limp.

Mitch caught her up and returned to the clearing. The obviously worried boy was peeking out past his furry companions.

“She's okay,” Mitch assured him. “She just got too scared and fainted, I guess.”

“I ain't scared of nothin'.”

“I'm
not
scared of
any
thing,” Mitch corrected.

Tim beamed. “Yeah, me neither.”

As Mitch gently lowered Jill to the ground he couldn't help noticing how lovely she was, even now. Her cheeks were smudged, her long blond hair was tangled. Wet strands of it were plastered to her forehead and cheeks, and her usually expressive blue eyes were closed. Still, she had never looked more beautiful.

Leaning over her to help shelter her from the deluge, he gently took one of her hands and rubbed it. Tim started to follow Mitch's lead, then apparently changed his mind about getting that wet and eased back under the log while the dogs crowded in to sniff Jill's shoes and try to lick her face.

“No. Go lie down,” Mitch ordered, waving them away.

The moment Jill's eyelids fluttered his heart did the same. Half-awake, she started to struggle again.

“Whoa. It's me, remember?” He gently restrained her. “Take it easy. Don't be in a hurry to get up.”

Eyes darting, searching, she was remaining a lot more panicky than he'd expected.

When she asked, “Where is he?” Mitch pointed to Timmy. “Right here with us. See?”

“No. Not him.”

“Then who?”

Jill grabbed Mitch's hand and held tight, leaning on him to help her to her feet. She flipped her head to get her damp hair out of her face and finished combing it back with shaky fingers. “Somebody was chasing me. A man.”

“The dogs didn't react to anything except you. That was how I knew you were coming. They got all excited.”

“Somebody out there grabbed me. I'm positive.” She stared at him as if she thought he doubted her claim. “I—I think I screamed. Didn't you hear me?”

“I may have. It was hard to tell over the noise of the storm.” Mitch kept an arm around her waist, as much for himself as to steady her. “Now that we're all here together, I need to notify Harlan to call off the extra search.”

“Extra search?”

“Yeah. For you. When you didn't catch up to me I asked the sheriff to send some men to look for you, too.”

“What about…?”

Mitch saw her eyes glistening with unshed tears and guessed why. “Sorry. We haven't located Megan yet. But Tim was hot on her trail. Your dogs led him this far.”

“Then we'll find her?” Jill's tone was half-pleading, half-exuberant.

“Of course we will,” Mitch said as he grinned at the boy for emphasis. In his heart, however, he wondered
how much time Megan had and who might have abducted her.

His first guess would have been Natalie Stevens but he figured a woman that small could not have raised the sticky window. At least not by herself. Plus, she wasn't the type to go hiking through a wilderness for any reason, let alone while carrying a toddler. No. If Natalie had been behind the abduction she'd had accomplices.

Thad could have managed the window, of course. He was certainly strong enough. Except he had no reason for taking Megan. He'd never sought custody of the children the way Natalie had.

Guiding Jill to sit on the fallen log, Mitch draped his jacket over her head like a cape while keeping his theories to himself. His main job was to look after her and the boy, at least for the present. Once Harlan arrived they'd discuss their next moves. Hopefully, Jill would be able to convince her dogs to return to wherever they had been trying to take Timmy.

If she couldn't get them to act, he didn't know what else they could do except go back to the house, wait for search and rescue and start fresh in the morning. That is, providing the rain didn't wash away the scent trail.

His gut twisted. Megan was out here somewhere, scared and maybe cold and hungry. They had to find her. They just had to.

 

By the time Jill, Mitch and Tim were joined by Harlan and the searchers, her dogs were acting so confused and so glad to have all these new playmates they didn't pay a bit of attention to commands.

“I'm sorry,” she said, biting back tears of frustration
as she adjusted the loose-fitting hood of the disposable plastic poncho the rescuers had given her. “Salt and Pepper are herding dogs. They were never trained to track a scent. Whatever they did to get this far, they did on their own. I have no idea how to tell them we want them to keep going.”

“It'll be all right,” the sheriff assured her. “Now that we know where to start, we can bring the regular search dogs out tomorrow and pick up the trail from here.”

“Will there be a trail? I mean, what about all this rain?”

“Those dogs can track a man through a raging river. They should still be able to work fine.”

Jill's attention was diverted when Boyd suddenly emerged from the forest. He held up a black, knit cap, shined the beam of his flashlight on it and waved it for all to see. “This belong to any of you folks?”

Heads shook. Shoulders shrugged. No one claimed it.

Harlan looked pointedly at Jill. “You said you were being followed. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Bag and tag that hat,” he told his deputy. “It doesn't look like it's been out here long enough to get dirty so maybe it was lost tonight.”

Jill's whirling thoughts centered on the sounds she'd heard. “I—I think the man may have fallen or run into something in the dark while he was chasing me. Maybe that's when he lost the hat.”

“Let's hope so.” Harlan claimed the packaged clue and gestured with his flashlight. “There's nothing more we can do out here. Let's head back to the Kirkpatrick place.”

No matter how wet and miserably cold she was, Jill didn't want to leave. She grabbed Mitch's arm. “Maybe if we just look around a little more we'll find something, anything. Please?”

He shook his head. “No. You're exhausted and we have Tim to consider. He's not as wet as some of us are but it's not good for him to stay out in this weather. Besides, Paul is waiting back at the house.”

“And,” Harlan chimed in, “the last thing I need is a couple of amateurs clomping around out here and destroying what clues we may find come daylight. The more fresh scent you leave, the more confused the professional dogs will be. Think about it.”

There was no way Jill could refute that logic no matter how desperately she wanted to. Harlan was right. She must put the children first and to do that, she had to follow the sheriff's orders, like it or not.

I don't like it
, she reflected, disgusted, at her wit's end and on the verge of tears. The more she struggled to do things right, the worse the results seemed to be.

That wasn't true, of course. She had a favorite scripture in the book of Romans that taught: “All things work together for those who love God and are called according to His purpose.” She just wished her heavenly Father would let her in on His plans, especially in this case.

Also clad in plastic now, Mitch used a borrowed flashlight to illuminate their way while he followed with Timmy.

Up ahead, others were breaking trail so Jill didn't have to wonder which way to go. It was comforting to see that the sheriff and his deputy were keeping guard
on the periphery of the group in case there was more trouble.
In case my attacker is watching.

Tim had recovered enough to be full of questions, especially now that he was warmer, thanks to Mitch's baseball cap, his very own plastic rain shield and makeshift boots that someone had taped around his ankles so they wouldn't fall off. “Where's Paul?”

Jill started to turn and answer when she heard Mitch reply, “Back at the house with a lady deputy.”

“Oh.” Tim paused, then added, “Will you stay with us, too, Uncle Mitch?”

“Sure. As long as I can. I'll have to go back to work soon, though.”

“Take us with you.”

Mitch laughed quietly. “Sorry, buddy. Can't do that. Miss Jill will look after you while I'm gone.”

All she could hear after that was muttering. It was easy to guess that Tim was less than confident about her mothering capabilities. She didn't blame him. Given what had happened to his baby sister, she wasn't sold on herself either.

Her head was pounding and her leg muscles throbbed but she refused to ask anyone to slow down. As far as Jill was concerned, she didn't deserve any special kindness or consideration. She had blown it, pure and simple, and a toddler might have to pay the ultimate price for her negligence.

That thought burrowed into her heart and sent daggers of pain shooting through every nerve in her body.
No!
she wanted to scream.
No, no, no!
Not another loss for which she was to blame. Please God, not another one.

Tears began to stream down her face, making her
thankful that the darkness and rain hid her grief. She had been an imperfect daughter and her mother had abandoned her. She had failed to convince Eric that it was too dangerous to cut timber by himself and he had died as a result. Now she had been entrusted with the life of an innocent child and that child had been kidnapped.

Jill clamped her hands over her mouth to try to stifle a mournful sob that was rising from the depths of her soul and bringing with it all the anguish she was feeling.

She failed. The sound of her suffering reverberated as if the forest itself mourned.

Through her tears, Jill saw Mitch's light falter. Someone grabbed her shoulders. This time, she knew it was him.

He physically turned her around, drew her close and held her tightly.

She experienced the same sense of gratefulness she'd felt when little Megan had patted her arm, only much more so.

She didn't care why Mitch was hugging her, she only knew that she needed this reassurance the way a drowning victim needed a life preserver. Dying of thirst in a desert of grief and self-reproach, he was her drink of cool water.

“It's okay,” he whispered. “It's okay, honey. I've gotcha.”

Jill could not speak. She could only hold him, weep against his broad chest and thank the Lord she had a friend like this—someone who accepted her and supported her when even
she
had given up on herself.

 

Mitch closed his eyes and slowly rubbed Jill's back through her jacket and the plastic poncho. He had acted on instinct when he'd heard her crying and, given her response, he figured he'd done the right thing. At least he hoped so.

Some of the others had stopped to watch. That didn't matter. All he cared about was her. When she began to loosen her grip he did the same.

“I—I'm sorry,” she said. Someone offered a handful of dry tissues and she accepted them.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Mitch replied. “It's been a rough day.”

“No kidding.”

He chanced a smile. “Cross my heart.”

“I think I got you all wet.”

“No wetter than I already was. Feel better now?”