“Okay, this is good,” he says. “You’re probably moving faster than she is right now. You’re going to turn right at that hideous all-black house. The one that’s so new the paint looks shiny.”
I stifle a laugh as I see it looming ahead, like something out of an Edgar Allan Poe story. Two stories with huge windows, the siding painted pitch-black. Honestly, the new builds in this neighborhood have jumped the shark.
I keep running, putting on more speed. My high school gym teacher would be struck down from shock if he could see me now.
“That house is awful,” I pant out. “Do they at least give out full-size candy bars at Halloween?”
“Pretzel packs. He’s a dentist.”
“You’d think he’d want to drum up business.”
Cormac gives me a pity laugh, probably well aware that I’m trying to distract myself. “He probably does. Pretzels get stuck in your teeth. By the way, you’re doing great.” His voice is low and steady in my ear. It’s like the way he hugged me yesterday. I don’t want it to make me feel better—I shouldn’t need reassurance, especially when I’m the one in the wrong, but I do. More perplexingly, I need it fromhim.
“That’s it,” he tells me, as if he can see me turning and vaulting past the weird house full of Halloween-hating dentists.
I give it the finger. No one should give children pretzels on Halloween.
“You’re going to take a left on Oak,” he says.
I glance at the sign up ahead as I near an intersection. “I see it.”
“You’re getting so close, Nora. It’s going to be okay. You’re doing everything you can.”
I run harder.
He sucks in a breath at the other end of the line. “We may need to wait until daylight for you to find her. I think she slipped into a patch of woods near the greenway.”
“If it’s not safe for me, it’s not safe for her.” My heart lodges in my throat. She may be a tough little bitch, but she’s small fora corgi. An ill-tempered groundhog could probably do her in. I won’t let that happen on my watch. “I’m going in.”
“I’m not comfortable with that. I?—”
“Tell me where to go,” I insist. “I have pepper spray.”
It’s not an exaggeration. It’s in my hoodie pocket, tucked in with the leash. I make it myself, with a recipe I found online, and I’ve given a bottle to each of my female friends to carry.
“You shouldn’t wander around the woods in the middle of the night.”
“I’ll do it whether you tell me where she is or not. I have a flashlight on my phone.”
He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“And I don’t want anything to happen to your dog. She’s a pain in the ass, and I think I love her.”
“I know the feeling,” he says with a strained laugh. “But please don’t trip over a root and die. I’d have to tell everyone I led you to your death, and it would result in some uncomfortable conversations.”
He’s trying to lighten the mood, but my throat is still choked with emotion. I’m not all right. I won’t be until I have that little dog in my arms.
Okay, she’d never consent to snuggling with me. But I need to be the person who ushers her to safety. If I’m not, I’ll never respect myself again.
“She’ll be okay,” Cormac says, perhaps for himself as much as me. “So will you. You’re going to turn onto the greenway up ahead.”
I do, panting because I’ve missed leg day for about five years. I pause only to turn on my flashlight and switch to speaker phone. “I’m here, Cormac. What now?”
“Don’t do anything dangerous. I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt.”
“And I’ll never forgive myself if she gets hurt. Where is she?”
“She’s to your left. If I remember correctly, there’s a steep hill. You shouldn’t…what shoes are you wearing?”
