15
“C’mon, Kacey, pick up.” Ben listened to her voicemail message, wincing, then hung up, fighting the urge to throw the phone.
Beside him, his father braced his hand on the dashboard as Pete cut down Main Street, then turned left onto Sierra’s road.
The flashing lights of a police cruiser splashed red over the debris pile that once formed Sierra’s house. Ben spotted a couple figures in the yard—recognized Sam, out of uniform, and Ian Shaw, and even Sheriff Blackburn and Miles, just getting out of his truck.
From this vantage point, it seemed the house had collapsed in on itself, simply folding in, one wall falling, then the other, the roof settling on top. Electrical wires dangled from the overhead poles, snapping.
And sure enough, Kacey’s Escape sat in the dirt driveway.
His father was speaking. “Ben, trust my team. They know what they’re doing. Wait for us to assess—”
But Ben had the door open before Pete pulled up to the curb. Gage’s Mustang slid in behind his.
Ben ran across the lawn toward the house. “Kacey!”
Sam intercepted him, hands to his shoulders. “Stay back, buddy. We got a call in to the electric company—they’re turning off the electricity.” He pointed to a couple live wires dangling dangerously near the soggy ground.
Ben shucked him off. “She’s in there, Sam, I just know it.”
“My house!”
Sierra had arrived on the scene, now stood with her hands over her mouth. Jess came up, put her arm around her. “It’ll be okay.”
“Are they in there?”
“We don’t know,” Sam said. “But we think so.”
“We thought it was you,” a voice said. Sierra looked past him, and Ben followed her gaze to Ian Shaw, who was staring at her with a raw, almost palpable, relief on his face.
“It’s not me, okay? It’s my best friend and her daughter! And we have to do something!”
Ben’s exact thoughts. “Somebody turn off that electricity!”
As if on command, a voice came through Sam’s handheld, confirming his request. He swiped it off his belt, asked the ETA of the volunteer fire department, his hand going back to brace against Ben’s chest. “What do you mean, they’re on a call? Then call Kalispell! Or Whitefish.”
Ben pushed Sam’s grip away, advanced on the house.
He didn’t know where to start. The cement steps suggested where the front door had once stood, but from there, the house flattened. The dormer windows were still intact and sitting atop the rubble of the roof. Underneath, the walls stacked like pancakes, the windows shattered, two-by-fours and plywood protruding like matchsticks.
Shadows pressed into the crannies, recesses where she might be trapped, deepening under the twilight descending into the valley.
He crouched in front of a space between foundation and collapsed roof. “Kacey! Can you hear me?”
He closed his eyes, listening. Heard only the terrible thunder of his heartbeat.
“We need a layout of the original structure,” Miles said as he stood beside Sam. “So we can figure out how this fell, where there might be natural voids where she might be trapped.”
“Audrey’s in there too,” Ben said in a choked whisper.
Please, God.
He got up, turned to Sam. “We’ve got to get in there!”
His father had gotten out of the cab, and now Chet stood, balanced on crutches with Sam and Miles, watching Sierra draw a map of her house on the back of a napkin someone had fished out of their car.
He joined them.
“It’s a small house—the kitchen is here, and across from that, the family room. A bathroom in the back. Two bedrooms upstairs. And a basement.”
“What kind of basement?” This from Pete, who stood next to Sam, hands on his hips.
“It’s a dirt basement. And it’s been wet since the flood.”
Ian hovered over the group. “Your deck washed away?”
She nodded. “The mess is in the backyard. I haven’t had a chance to clean it up. It’s a swamp back there.”
Ian pointed to the drawing. “If the water collected here, around the foundation, the house could have collapsed at this point, near the kitchen.” He held up his hands, demonstrating. “The foundation wall drops, and the floorboards buckle. The opposite wall caves in as the floor opens up, and then the roof collapses in on top.”
“These old houses are balloon-framed,” Pete said. “Which means if the wall torques, it’ll rip off the ledger board, which is just nailed on, and the entire floor will collapse, in pieces.”
“Which makes the debris pile highly unstable,” Ian finished. “We go in there blind, start moving things, the house could collapse further into any void they might be in.”
Ben thought he might be ill. He turned back to the house, breathing hard. “We don’t have time for this! We can’t just disassemble the house like Legos—we have to get in there.”
A hand pressed on his shoulder. “Ben, take a breath. If we want to do this right, without costing lives, we have to do it smart. My team knows what they’re doing. Now you have to start trusting God.”
Ben walked away from his father’s grip, his jaw tight.
“I’m not sure, but there might be a natural void here, along the wall where it first collapsed,” Pete was saying, forming a visual with his hands. “As the floor fell, it’s possible the wall came in on top, creating a pocket.”
Ian was staring at the house. “Sierra, was your second floor an attic with knee walls or a full second floor?”
“The attic. We finished it ourselves.” She had a hitch to her voice, her arms around her waist.
“Okay, then from my rough measurement, there is definitely a lean-to void in the basement area. Otherwise, the roofline would be further down,” Ian said.
“What if we got a line around the top edge of the roof, peeled it back.” Pete said. “Then, at least, we’d have less pressure. And we could get a better look, maybe send someone in.”
“Me. I’m going in,” Ben said.
No one argued with him.
“Here comes Ty,” Miles said, and Ben turned to see the Silverado pull up. Jess jumped out, then pulled gear from the bed. “I sent them by HQ to pick up equipment.”
Jess came over, dropped a duffel at Miles’s feet, breathing hard. “I didn’t know what to grab, so we got everything—flashlights, ropes, helmets, uniforms, gloves, radios, the litter from the chopper—anything I could think of.”
“Did you get a cable?” Miles asked.
“I have a lot of climbing rope.”
“I’ll get my truck,” Pete said.
Sam was back on the radio, getting an update on the fire department.
Ian had walked over to stand by Sierra. Ben noticed how he put a hand on her shoulder.
She shrugged it away and walked over to Ben. “We’ll get them out, Ben. Kacey’s smart and tough. And she isn’t going to let anything happen to Audrey.”
In the distance, the finest whine of a siren haunted the dusk.
Ty and Gage began to loop rope around the far edge of the roof, back underneath, climbing onto the edge of the house. Miles shouted directions as Pete backed his truck into the yard.
Jess handed Ben a pair of overalls, a hard hat, gloves, and a harness. “We’ll belay you in. In case something goes south, we can find you.”
He couldn’t think that far, to the what-if of something going “south.”
It seemed south enough from his vantage point.
Gage and Ty looped the rope twice, secured it with a knot, and Pete attached it with tow strapping to his truck’s hitch.
“Oh please, let’s not make it worse,” Jess said, also wearing her uniform and a helmet, the first responder bag at her feet.
Pete got in the truck. “I’m just going to ease it off at an angle,” he said, putting the truck into drive. Miles gave him the go-ahead, watching the lines.
The truck chewed at the lawn, the tires scrabbling for purchase in the soft grass. The top layer of the roof began to move, sliding over the pile, toward the front lawn. Ty and Gage walked with it, easing it off, testing the rope. Wood splintered, groaned, and Ben felt the moan of it to his bones.
The bundle finally hit the grass, with the boards cracking and splintering. Pete nudged it further from the house, but it didn’t want to give.
“Hold up!” Miles said, and Pete stopped.
The siren peaked and a fire engine came down the road.
Ben took a look at them, then turned and headed for the house.
“Ben, we need to get you geared up.” Jess scrabbled behind him.
He ignored her, climbing over the debris to the front steps. Without the roof, the damage could be more easily assessed—good call, Ian and Pete. The walls had indeed pancaked in, but Sheetrock and flooring jutted up, as if propped by the interior walls below.
He dropped to his knees. “Kacey!”
He couldn’t hear anything over the sirens and the sound of the truck pulling up.
He turned to Jess. “Hook me up. If I don’t go in now, they won’t let me go.” He glanced behind him. “And I’m going to find her.”
Jess clipped a carabiner onto his harness. “Just don’t die in there.”
He pulled down his eye protection, strapped his helmet under his chin, and flicked on the lights on his hard hat, the beam shining into the crannies of the house. The siren had died, and he heard shouting behind him telling him to wait.
He pointed to the cranny between the foundation and the collapsed outer wall. “I’m going in here.” He moved a two-by-four, and the house creaked. But he leaned over the edge, found an opening between two ancient two-by-sixes. “Kacey!”
Nothing, and the rank smells of the ancient basement wafted up at him. He wedged himself into the pocket between wall and floor and climbed down, moving aside beams that crisscrossed his path. The light illuminated dangling electrical wires and crushed Sheetrock. He found a pocket under the kitchen table wedged against the kitchen counter, the electric stove on one side, propped against the wall, bracing the table. The table held up the fridge, which loomed above him like an anvil.
“Kacey!”
He listened, holding his breath. Then he heard what he thought might be a moan. “Kace—I’m here!”
He worked his way through the space under the table, found it blocked by the laminate flooring. The moaning seemed to emanate from the other side.
“Hold on, baby.” He could turn around, and now looked up at Jess, some seven feet above. “I need a pry bar. I think she’s under the floorboards here.”
He lay at a slant, and he propped himself against the oven as he tried to find an opening in the floorboards.
“I’m right above you, Kacey. I’m coming down.”
No more sounds, and he hoped he hadn’t imagined it.
“Ben King, is that you?”
He looked up, didn’t see the owner of the voice, but recognized it as Sheriff Blackburn.
“You need to come out of there and let the rescuers down there.”
“I’m a rescuer. And I’m here to get my daughter—and my . . . the woman I love. So hand me down a pry bar or get out of here.”
More voices, arguing, and Jess reappeared. “Pry bar coming down,” she said as she leaned over and lowered it down on a rope.
He caught it, untied it. Outside, the sun had set, and only the glow of his head lamp lit the boards as he pried up the laminate flooring. It came off in a sheet, and he shoved it into a recess, then wedged the bar in between the floor joists. Already weakened, they broke free, and he pried one up, fighting it free.
It created a gap about as wide as his shoulder. He tried to angle his light into the gap, but he couldn’t see around it.
He stuck his arm down, shoulder deep, and felt around.
His fingers barely brushed the ground—or what he supposed might be the damp, pliable basement floor. “Kacey!” He moved his hand around, searching in an arc, but hit only air.
Then, just as he was about to pull back, something grabbed his hand. The slightest pressure, just at his fingertips.
Squeezed.
“I got something. Or someone!” He pressed his face to the boards, trying to position himself further without letting go.
The hand slipped away. He searched for it again, praying he hadn’t been dreaming, but nothing caught him. “They’re down here!” Or at least one of them was.
He pulled himself back up. “I need a saw!”
“I’ll get one from the rig.” Jess disappeared, and he heard Pete’s voice.
“We’re going to move the other wall, Ben. You need to get out of there.”
“Forget it. I’m not leaving her. She’s right below me.”
“The entire place is unstable. There’s a three-hundred-pound refrigerator just waiting to collapse on you.”
“Five minutes. Just give me five minutes—”
“I’ve got the saw,” Jess said and handed him down a rescue saw. He adjusted the guard, turning it only deep enough for the joists, yanked on the pull-start.
The saw buzzed, bit into the wood, and sawdust bulleted up at him, pinging off his glasses. He opened up a space big enough for him to crawl through and handed up the saw to Jess.
“If she’s not there, you’re coming out,” Pete said. “That’s direct from Miles.”
Ben tightened his jaw, then leaned down and slid into the opening.
The space was tight, reeked of mold and rot. He braced himself on his arms, lowered himself down, and maneuvered to his hands and knees.
No one. “Kacey?” He met a wall of Sheetrock and wood, more debris behind him, a wall of rubble to his left.
Nothing.
“Dad?”
He stilled. “Audrey? Where are you?”
He felt a tug on his boot. He turned and wanted to weep when he spied Audrey’s hand snaking out from a pile of litter and dirt. He grabbed it.
“I’m here, Audrey. Hang on.” He tunneled away the dirt when he saw her lying under the cradle of the laundry sink. Dirty, her eyes huge, her face smeared with tears, but she gave him a quick smile. “I thought that was you.”
He grabbed her hand, hunkered down next to her. “How badly are you hurt?”
“I think I’m okay. I’m just wedged here.” She pointed to a beam lying across her legs.
Oh no. He managed his voice. “Can you move your legs?”
“No. I can move my feet, but they’re caught—”
“You’re not in pain?”
She shook her head, but her face started to crumple. “But I’m scared.”
He wanted to cry too at her desperate expression.
“I can’t find Mom. She was right beside me.”
He didn’t want to tell her about the destruction, the rubble in every direction.
He was having a hard time breathing with the immensity of it all.
Oh God—please.
“Dad, are you okay?”
He bent down, found her gaze. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He managed to keep his voice quick, solid. “We’re going to get out of here.” All of us.
“Having faith is the bravest thing we can do. It’s the unwavering confidence that God loves us. That although we can’t see the road ahead, we can see God.”
He had started to shake.
Yes. Please, God. Give me the faith to trust you.
Creaking and then Pete yelling, boards breaking, and Ben barely had time to brace his body over Audrey’s before the refrigerator crashed down, crushing the table, and splintering through the floorboards.
It brought the rest of the kitchen floor down around them in a cloud of dust and debris.
They were shooting at her again. Or maybe grenades, but explosions jerked Kacey awake. How could she have fallen asleep when her men needed her?
Pitch dark. She could smell the dust, and more—something foul. But she couldn’t move.
Had she been hit? Kacey searched for light, anything, found herself pinned, something heavy on her legs, unable to move her arm. Oh—her breathing tumbled out, and bile filled her throat. Don’t let them find her—don’t—
Light. It flashed above her, quick and fast, just a sliver before it flickered away.
She didn’t want to move. What if the others were dead? If she just lay here, they’d never know.
She closed her eyes, willed herself not to move, not to cry out. She didn’t feel hurt, but maybe that was simply shock.
The voices died out, leaving only her heartbeat thundering inside her.
So alone. Blackness. Trapped. Tears filmed her eyes. God, it can’t end this way—please.
She didn’t know where the thought came from, but she leaned into it, reaching for something. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Yes, that. She fought for the words.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
She heard shuffling around her, stiffened.
They were out there. Somewhere, waiting for her.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Strength, yes, she needed strength. She stilled, centered her breathing.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Protection. Trust.
In the blackness, she heard something heavy fall—a body? One of her teammates?
Please, God, for Audrey, bring me home!
“Kacey?”
Her name. She opened her eyes, listened.
“Kacey, can you hear me?”
That voice . . . And then, with a jolt, it all rushed back. Ben.
She was home. And the last thing she remembered was sliding through Sierra’s house as it imploded on her.
Oh no—Audrey.
She opened her mouth, but her voice barely emerged a whisper. “Here. I’m here.”
“Kacey, if you can hear me, make a noise, anything.” Again, Ben’s voice. What was he doing here? And he sounded so desperate it made her ache.
Her arm stretched out on the floor in front of her—she couldn’t move it, her legs too—and it stung her that maybe she didn’t feel anything because . . . oh no, she couldn’t be.
How badly was she hurt? Please, she couldn’t be paralyzed.
Her breaths came in fast, hurdling over her. “I’m—here.” Her voice barely dented the pitch, fell back to her without breaching the walls around her. She closed her eyes.
Don’t panic.
Oh, she was way past panicking. She heard it in her breaths, the rush of her pulse, her thundering heart.
It wasn’t fair. Yes, she’d made a few mistakes, but she’d been trying to fix those. To make up for them, to yes, deserve something good, like Audrey said.
Clearly, God disagreed.
“But what if God brought you back here to save you.”
Sierra’s voice, in her head, and she wanted to laugh, but the irony just burned.
What if God brought her back to remind her that she could never have the life she longed for?
That sounded about right. And really, that’s what she deserved, for keeping Ben from his daughter, abandoning that daughter, even letting the world think she was some kind of hero, when really, she was a coward who’d simply let fear take over.
“Mom? Are you there?”
She nodded, tears dripping off her chin.
Above them, she heard more voices, but they were muffled and she felt herself start to shake.
Then, softly, she heard a voice. Not Ben’s deep rumble, but something sweet and soft, familiar.
Beautiful.
When you need a friend
A shoulder you can cry on
Someone who understands what you’re going through
Just look over here, see me standing closer
Audrey? Except it didn’t sound like her daughter’s voice. It came from inside, a heartbeat.
The song she’d sung in Afghanistan. It had come to her in the middle of the night from the hidden places of her heart, with Duffy moaning six feet from her, O’Reilly on the other side, shivering, swearing.
Perhaps God hadn’t left her in the dark then. Or now. More, he’d redeemed the past, used it to carry her through the darkness.
“He is the object of your searching.”
She heard Sierra’s voice as clearly as if she’d spoken to her through the darkness.
“Don’t be afraid of letting go and walking into all God has for you.”
Kacey closed her eyes, feeling the sob rise inside.
Words floated to the top, and she latched onto them.
Please, God, I need you,
I need you, I need you . . .
And that’s when she felt it. A warmth passing through her, sinking into her, settling her heartbeat.
A presence. A voice.
“Nobody will love you the way I do.”
And just like that, the fear whooshed out of her.
“Kacey!”
Her eyes jerked open, and fractured light broke through. A hand grabbed hers.
She blinked as the light revealed the man peering at her through the boards.
“Wow, you’re beautiful,” Ben said. His face was nearly black with grime, and his blue eyes glowed, so much relief in them that they started to glaze over.
“What happened? Where’s Audrey?”
“I already found her. She’s okay. We didn’t know where you were, but then the fridge came down. And when it did, it broke open this wall.” His voice shook, just a little. “Listen, I’m going to get you out of here.”
He turned as if to go, but she gripped his hand. Pain sliced through her, and she cried out.
Clearly not paralyzed. She wanted to weep with relief.
He turned back to her. “It’s fine. The fridge landed vertically. It’s actually holding the floor up.” He let out something of a sound of disbelief. “We’re going to be okay.”
“Yeah, we are—but only if you don’t leave me.” She realized how awful, how pitiful that sounded, but she didn’t care. “Please, Ben, don’t leave me.”
She should have said it thirteen years ago instead of listening to her hurt, the lies that told her she didn’t deserve the happy ending.
She was not her mother.
“Don’t leave me, Ben. And not here, I mean. Don’t. Leave. Me. We need you—Audrey and I. And if that means we have to follow you around the country, then—”
“Shh.” He reached his other hand through the grid of boards, touched her arm. “I’m not going anywhere. You and Audrey are my life—and we’ll figure it out. I promise. But let’s do it after we get you out from under this house, okay?”
She gave a feeble, pitiful laugh, and he smiled, white teeth against the grime. Except—
“Audrey—”
“Is fine, really.”
“Is she . . . was she singing?”
Ben shook his head. Glanced back. “I think she might be praying, though.”
Kacey gave another laugh. It ended in a groan. “I guess we did something right.”
“That we did, baby.”
What if it were Sierra the rescuers were fighting to extract from the rubble of her house? That thought kept shuddering through Ian as he watched the Whitefish then the Mercy Falls FD work with the team to extricate Audrey and Kacey from the tangle of wood, plaster, appliances, fixtures, and furniture.
Spotlights turned the now-rutted front yard to midday, and with all hands on deck, he’d donned a rescue jacket and helped with the assembly line that tore apart the house, creating a hole big enough for Jess and Pete to climb in and help Ben move Audrey to a stretcher, despite her assurance she felt fine.
She looked like a Chilean miner, her body covered in grime. But she possessed her mother’s fighting spirit because she refused to leave the site until her mother emerged.
Sierra, too, had joined in the efforts, despite a heated argument with Sam, one Ian recognized as all too familiar.
No one got between Sierra and her desire to help.
Which, really, made them too much alike, probably. Because he recognized his own frustration in her tone, the same frustration he’d leveled at her.
“We’re ready to move her!” Jess’s voice came through the walkie-talkie in Miles’s hand, and he nodded to the team to move into place. They positioned themselves strategically along the recovery path to move her stretcher hand-by-hand instead of trying to climb out with it in tow. Safer for everyone. Ian lined up across from Gage, next to Ty, who positioned himself nearer the hole to grab Kacey’s litter, across from Ben.
Ian felt for the guy, understood his grim, almost desperate expression as he resigned Kacey’s care to Jess and Pete.
The team had affixed ropes and a pulley system to stabilize the litters as they came out. Miles and one of the firefighters from Mercy Falls worked the system as Pete and Jess wrestled Kacey up to the rescuers. They’d stabilized her with a collar, secured her tight into the litter, cocooned in a blanket, her shoulder, which they thought she’d broken, secured to her body.
“I got you, Kace,” Ben said as he put a hand on the portable stretcher. Ty took the other side, and Ian moved in to assist.
Kacey managed a smile at Ben as they passed her along, out of danger.
Ian and Gage carried her out to the ambulance, Ben scrambling out of the rubble after them.
Audrey came up to her, a blanket around her shoulders. “Mom!”
“I’m okay, honey,” Kacey managed, and then Ian handed her off to the waiting stretcher and the EMTs from Kalispell.
He stood there watching as they packed her up, as Ben demanded a ride, finally conceding to ride in the other rig, with Audrey.
What if it had been Sierra?
Ian blew out a long, tired breath. Turned and spied Sierra now staring at her house.
She needed a home. A friend. Help.
He came up next to her, not sure how to offer anything off that list. “I’m sorry about your house.”
She glanced up at him, her face dirty, her eyes reddened. He barely stifled the urge to reach out, pull her into his embrace.
“It’s just a house.”
“You worked on that house for five years. It’s not just a house.”
“It was old, and the foundation was crumbling, and I should have had it inspected after the flood.” She rubbed her hands on her arms. “I’m so grateful that Kacey and Audrey are okay.”
“Me too,” he said. “But where are you going to sleep tonight?”
She gave him a smile. “Jess offered her place.”
“What? I’ve seen that place. She’s sleeping in her living room. It’s barely habitable.”
Sierra held up her hand. “It’s fine. It’s a roof over our heads.”
“Stay with me, Sierra. I have lots of rooms—”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ian.” Her smile was tight. “But thanks.”
“If you’re worried about . . .” He swallowed. “What happened, it won’t . . .” Shoot. “It won’t happen again.”
But the sense of her in his arms, those lips kissing him . . . He had to blow out a breath, add a smile. “Really.”
She considered him a long moment. Then, finally, “Thank you for your offer, Ian, but I don’t want your help.”
She, too, manufactured a smile. “I need to move on, stop thinking you need me. You don’t, and I know that now. But if I stay with you—and believe me, I appreciate the offer—I’ll just jump back into your world. I can’t help it, really. So I need to say good-bye and let you do what you need to do.”
He stared at her and couldn’t flush the frustration from his voice. “Why are you so stubborn?”
She recoiled, stepped back. “I’m not stubborn. But you can’t be my entire world anymore, Ian. I should have seen that earlier, but believe me, I’m seeing clearly now. And the one thing my mother taught me is how to say good-bye, to walk away and stand on my own. So I’m not being stubborn. I’m moving on. And so should you.”
But he didn’t want her to move on. She was his entire world too.
“I’m not ready to say good-bye,” he said quietly.
“I know.” She touched his arm, squeezed, compassion in her eyes.
No, she didn’t. “Sierra—”
“No, Ian. I wish you the best on your search. I really hope you find out what happened to Esme. But I can’t be a part of it anymore.” She gave him a sad smile. Then she walked away toward Jess, who had just climbed out of the house debris and was debriefing Miles.
Leaving him there with her words. Move on.
But how exactly could he? Not without her. But maybe she was right—not until he was able to say good-bye to Esme.
Behind him, he heard the ambulances pull away.
“I’m glad I caught you, Ian.” Sheriff Blackburn stepped up beside him. “I wanted to give you an update on that body we found. The coroner is still searching for a positive ID. She suggested that she could compare DNA to Esme’s if you still had a sample.”
“I’ll find something.”
“Good. Because she found something on the body we wanted you to take a look at.” He pulled out his cell phone, scrolled to a picture. Handed it to Ian.
Ian stared at it. The sight of the necklace on a tray hollowed him out. A diamond pendant inside a heart hung on a tangled tarnished silver chain.
“I gave Esme that necklace on her eighteenth birthday,” he said quietly.
Blackburn took the phone back. “I’m so sorry, Ian.”
“Then who was the girl that Lulu gave a ride to Saint Mary?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Clearly, Sam hadn’t updated the sheriff on the search. Ian filled him in. “We even talked to someone who picked her up in East Glacier—it sounded just like Esme.”
“I’m sorry, Ian. I don’t know what to tell you. The necklace isn’t a positive ID, of course, but I think you should prepare yourself for the likelihood this is your niece. I’m so sorry.”
He pocketed his phone, walked away.
Ian looked back at Sierra.
Of course, his first urge was to update her, to tell her that . . . Well, maybe it was over.
He didn’t know how he felt. A jolt, yes, the sense of grief for his revived hope.
But for some reason he also felt as if a grip had loosened around his chest.
This could be over. All of it—and then he could let go.
Figure out how to move on.
He started toward Sierra, a crazy, wild stirring inside him.
Sam joined their group, sidling up to Sierra.
He put his arm around her shoulder, something loose, like a friend would, and that wouldn’t have stopped Ian except for the way she looked up at Sam.
She laughed, something sweet that lit up her entire face. Then she gave Sam a funny punch, and he, too, laughed.
The shine in her eyes made Ian stop.
Move on.
He turned, shoved his hands in his pockets, and headed for his truck.
Apparently, she already had.