By the time we get to the backyard, the two deputies are emerging from the woods carrying Anna.
I rush over to her.
She’s breathing fine, but is not conscious.
“ETA on the ambulance is six minutes,” Roderick says.
“What do you want us to do with her?” the younger deputy asks.
“We can’t take her inside,” Roderick says. “It’s a crime scene and it’s swarming with FDLE techs.”
I pull off my shirt and lay it on the ground.
“Just lay her here for a moment,” I say.
They start to ease her down, but Merrill has them wait while he takes his shirt off and lays it down too. A few others around us follow suit—including Clarence Samuelson, Rake Sabin, and Scott Haskew.
With the makeshift shirt pallet in place, the two deputies lay Anna down.
Kneeling beside her, I touch her face and say her name.
“We were just walking along searching one minute and she was on the ground the next,” the older deputy says. “Seems fine otherwise—like maybe she just fainted or something. I’m sure she’s exhausted and overwrought.”
“She’s probably dehydrated too,” Rake says.
“Anna,” I say again, louder this time, and shake her a little. “Anna, can you hear me?”
She stirs a little, mumbling something and attempting to open her eyes.
“Anna?”
She tries to open her eyes a few times, but it takes several tries for her to keep them open.
“Hey,” I say.
“What is . . . John? What’s . . . What are you doing?”
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“What happened?”
“You passed out,” I say. “You were in the woods.”
“Oh, no,” she says. “Taylor. Someone has Taylor. We’ve got to find her.”
She tries to get up. She doesn’t get very far.
“We will,” I say. “But right now we’ve got to get you to the hospital.”
“No,” she says. “No way I’m leaving. I’ve got to find my baby and get her back.”
“A lot of people are looking,” I say. “We’re gonna find her. They’ll keep looking while we get you checked out.”
“I’m not going to the goddamn hospital,” she says. “Not while my little Taylor is out there somewhere with God knows what happening to her. Absolutely no way.”
Rake brings a bottle of water for her and hands it to me.
“Drink some of this,” I say.
I cup my hand behind her head and tilt it up slightly with one hand while holding the open bottle to her lips with the other.
She drinks a few sips and tries to get up again, but again is unable.
“You’ve got to let them check you out,” I say.
She tries to get up again. It goes about as well as the other times.
“Let them see what’s wrong with you and you’ll be back out here in no time, okay?”
“I’m not stayin’,” she says. “No matter what they say.”
“You don’t have to,” I say. “Let’s just get you checked out and then we’ll be right back out here. Okay?”
“I won’t stay no matter what they say,” she repeats. “And I won’t go unless you stay here and keep working on finding her. That’s the only way I’ll go.”
“I want to be with you,” I say.
“What matters more to me?” she says. “Having you with me or knowing you’re out here trying to find Taylor?”
“You can’t go alone,” I say.
“We need everyone out here looking for—”
“I’ll go with you,” Verna says, stepping over to where Anna can see her. “I’ll go. I’ll take good care of her and y’all can keep looking for Taylor.”
Anna nods.
“Quit wasting time with me,” Anna says to me. “Go find Taylor.”
I notice that she hasn’t once referred to Taylor as our little girl, only as hers—as her little Taylor—or simply as Taylor.
“Go,” she says. “Now. Go find her.”
I lean down and kiss Anna and tell her I love her.
She doesn’t respond—to the kiss or the words.
“Merrill and I will carry you to the ambulance,” I say, “then we’ll get back to work on finding Taylor.”
“Merrill’s here?” she says. “Merrill. Find my baby for me, Merrill. I know you can.”
“We will,” he says. “You just relax and work on gettin’ better. We’ll find her.”