CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

 

“DYLAN!”

A sound rang in the one word that set off every terror, every paralyzing sensation of abandonment, every story of a boogie man, to crash in Keir’s brain just as real as the mangled metal Haylan kept at the back of the shop.

He lunged up the stairs. Myah smacked into him, nearly toppling them both to the main floor. She caught her balance with wide eyes and a body-racking shiver.

“Where’s my baby?”

What? He took her hand, led her up the last step to Dylan’s room, and threw on the light. Just a bed slightly slept in. “Dyl? Dylan.”

“I didn’t…” She stared at the floor but he doubted she saw it. “…lock the front door when I came,” she mumbled like she was out of it.

“Check the closet and under the bed.” He’s a kid. Where could he possibly go?

“I didn’t lock it.”

“Myah.” He left her in her daze, and raced to his room where Dylan had watched videos a handful of times. Empty. He’d heard Myah in the bathroom earlier, so the little guy couldn’t be in there, but paranoia let him check it anyway. He sped to the other upstairs guestroom.

Where..? No way could Dylan have walked by them and gone to the basement, unless he’d done so while they were otherwise occupied?

Angered that his actions with Myah may have caused terrible trouble, he ran down below and checked the basement and last bedroom. Returning to the main floor, he spotted Myah outside at the front scouting the street. He stared at the lever door handle. Easily reachable for Dylan, if he tried.

Stopping mid-step toward the door, his mind landed on another thought. He whistled. “Jolie! Come on, girl.” The silent house answered. Keir closed his eyes and let reality seep in. A missing child, a silent dog. Had someone come in and taken Dylan?

That didn’t seem possible since no one knew they’d be here. It had to be that Dylan slipped out. Slipped out where? Lord, help him. It was after one o’clock in the morning with no one around to notice a two-foot-four tyke in his midnight blue, starred jammies.

Keir jogged outside. “Dylan?” He peered down the opposite direction as Myah until her sob turned him around. He hurried to her side. “It’ll be okay,” he said, holding her. “We gotta move fast though. Keep looking. It’s not cold so he should be fine.” He should. Right, God?

“How could I not lock the door?” She pushed away and growled in her throat as her foot stomped the asphalt. “What kind of a mother doesn’t protect her baby right under her nose? Ohhghh!” A low cry came out, loaded with anguish. She grabbed her chest like she couldn’t breathe.

He held her shoulders. “Keep calm. We’ll find him.”

Sloppily she dried her face with her arms.

“We won’t be able to see anything unless he’s near a street light. I’m calling nine-one-one. Start down this side if you need to, but don’t stop looking.”

He added the instructions to keep her mind occupied but really didn’t know what to do in a situation like this. How does one go about finding a child in the middle of the night who they could only hope had wandered off as opposed to being taken?

Inside, he snatched up the phone by the door and dialed 911. A bark reached him from the street just as the operator connected the line.

“Nine-one-one. What is your emer—”

“We have a lost child. He’s two.” He checked outside.

Jolie came bounding from the south. Myah ran up and dropped to her knees in the middle of the road to hug the dog, then sharply pulled back.

“What is this!” she shouted.

“Your name, sir?”

Keir wanted to run outside but knew the poor reception of his LAN line for that distance and couldn’t afford to drop the call. It took too long to relay his name and address. He banged his fist on the door jamb in agitation. Why did it take emergency thirty seconds to connect to police this time of night? When dispatch finally patched him through to someone who could actually help, he turned back inside and paced while he filled them in on the situation.

Jolie’s collar jingled at his heel. He was about to kneel down when his doorway suddenly illuminated, and the squeal of tires burned out of his driveway.

“Myah,” he yelled. She took off. Halfway through his apology over the phone, moisture dampened his lower calf.

He reached to scratch behind Jolie’s ears, but his hand met with her drenched coat.

“What is this?” he murmured. He sniffed it. Odorless. His chest hollowed before the pieces fell into place. Jolie came from the south. The park. The wading pools. “I think he’s at the park. John View Park. Get an ambulance. John View Park!”

He flung down the phone and grabbed his keys as he flew out of the house to dash down the street. No doubt Myah came to the same conclusion, but what if Dylan had only passed by one of the wading pools?

“Jolie. Good girl. Show me Dylan. Show me Dylan.”

Smart dog. Thank God. She ran ahead as if she knew this wasn’t a social outing or jogging time. Racing through the pedestrian path, they came out in time to see Myah’s car cutting up fresh park grass, headed to the final pool. Jolie, scooting ahead, scrambled into the water and danced around a dark, floating object before she sank her teeth into it and started to yank. She was too small to touch the bottom of the eighteen inch basin, and too weak to adequately shift the dead weight.

No, not dead weight. Not Dylan.

“Noo!” Myah’s voice trembled when she flew out of the car and called his name.

Keir’s lungs were ready to explode from the sorrow and the unbroken dash. Myah tripped over the edge and splashed face-first into the water. It didn’t stop her forward motion. She reached the pair, leveled on her knees, and dragged Dylan up before hauling her wet weight, and his, out of the water.

Her arms shook while she set her son on the grass. Keir skidded to a stop, held back a doting Jolie, and tried to catch his breath while Myah worked. The June night was warm, but the cool water must have made her terrified shivers worsen.

“Help…help me.” She fumbled through positioning body parts, but looked lost. “I can’t…”

Sirens neared the park. Every second could count. Winded, Keir didn’t think he had much in him, but what he had, he needed to breathe it to Dylan until the proper help arrived. Falling to his knees, he rubbed his knuckles on the tiny, cold chest.

Skye had insisted the children be taken care of, and no one had escaped her CPR classes. Nevertheless, uncertainty more than training guided his actions. Dylan looked so small. Breakable. What if he did something that made him worse? He should wait for the professionals. Myah moved to kiss Dylan’s forehead, whisper to him, and rub his tiny hands.

“Don’t take him now. Please, God. Come on, baby. Mommy’s right here. I’m here.”

He didn’t know if he could handle fatherhood if this is what he had to go through, worry about a tiny life all the time. He couldn’t even feel his own heart anymore.

Dylan didn’t respond to the stimuli. Keir gasped for air and controlled his sealed deposit. The little body jumped. He turned Dylan onto his side, and the boy vomited. Keir cleaned the passageway, but otherwise the baby stayed unresponsive. They strained to see in the strangled light.

“Is he breathing?”

“I don’t…” He couldn’t even shrug. He was so tired, stunned, and scared. He rubbed harder on the small chest, and they both laughed through tears when the little body coiled in retaliation.

“Thank you. Thank you!”

Keir stared at Myah. The worry on her face reflected his own concern; they weren’t out of the woods. But this was an improvement from where they were a minute ago. He smoothed a hand over her dripping hair, then kissed her forehead as he stumbled to his feet to make room for the approaching cops and paramedics.

 

 

WHAT a crazy night. Keir sat in Myah’s car in the lonely, dark driveway. The engine ticked to silence while he gripped the wheel and tried to fathom what on earth had taken place over the last few hours.

A blur of lab coats, hospital lights, terminology he couldn’t grasp. Near Drowning, Dry Drowning. The doctors had stuffed their heads with all sorts of complications that could occur. What did they mean Dylan could still die? Strangers jerked and pushed him out of the way. Stared at him with pity or fear. Finally ignored him with any answers.

He closed his eyes. If he’d called Myah during the week, this wouldn’t have happened. They wouldn’t have been here.

She immediately shouldered the blame. The cops made it worse the way they grilled and re-questioned as if they had something to hide. The accusations of child neglect nearly threw him over the edge.

Taking a deep breath, Keir climbed out and headed to the door. He needed to get his head on straight before he saw them again. He checked his watch, then stopped all motion to blink in the time. Four-thirty in the morning.

“No way.”

He hadn’t even looked at his watch when he called Skye for advice and to take Jolie. It felt like days since he’d been home. The hour wasn’t too bad for him, but Myah had been up since early yesterday and most of the night. She might not heed the doctors’ advice to take a nap while he came home and Dylan lay comfortable and stabilized.

Keir would make it a quick trip. He only needed to retrieve Myah’s purse, which she’d left somewhere in the kitchen. He hadn’t wanted to let on to the authorities that he’d followed the ambulance and would be driving back home while his wallet sat on his dresser.

After a shower and some food, he put soup and a sandwich together for Myah—thankful Skye had thought ahead by bringing clothes earlier—and headed back out while daylight broke. It took ten minutes to convince the burley security guard he’d been there only an hour before and needed to get the insurance card inside to his girlfriend. Then the attending nurse wouldn’t let him past.

“Visiting hours start in just over two hours. Have a seat over there.” The woman didn’t look mean, just rule-abiding. “I’ll let Miss Blake know her personal belongings are here.”

Too exhausted to argue, he fell into the chair. “What does a man have to do around here to see his own kid.”

Judging by the odd look, the nurse overheard. But it must have helped, for a minute later, Myah came out and squirreled him into the room under no protests.

Dylan’s eyes brightened though he didn’t move a muscle. “Keir.” The tiny whisper was probably meant to be an excited squeal.

That did it. Keir would never again allow this kid to experience pain. He took his spot in a chair by the bed, and tickled under the little chin, only to hear a strangled giggle.

“DRU-Med has the best plan in the business. I have to get this squared away. Can you watch him for a bit?”

“Silly question. Hey, hurry back, your food’s already lukewarm.”

Surprise turned to joy. She bit her tongue between her teeth in a grin before walking out.

“Looky what I got.” Keir pulled a toy motorcycle from his pocket and handed it over. “Your mum already said you can’t ride until you’re seventy, so this’ll have to do.” Resting his chin on the elevated side of the bed beside Dylan’s shoulder, he stroked the curly hair until he watched those pained eyes shut.

He continued to stroke the small head. The doctors told him he’d saved a life. He hadn’t saved his mother or father, or Caitlin, but he’d somehow assisted with this precious creature. He’d guard Dylan every day of his life if he had to.

Some babysitter he turned out to be. That was the last thing he remembered until the nurses’ shift change.