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“A.J.” She broke into a run. “A.J.!”
She skidded to a stop inside the den, heart pounding, mouth dry. Her world crumbled. The childhood nightmare started again.
A.J. was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
Gabe feared his head would explode. “Tell me again.”
He’d driven like a maniac from the mine, praying he’d misunderstood Brooke’s nearly incoherent voice quivering through the telephone line. Now, as he stood in Brooke’s den, he still couldn’t believe this was happening.
He grabbed Brooke by the arms. “From the start.”
Eyes frantic and wide, she trembled like an aspen in a windstorm. “Someone knocked on the door. No one was there. When I came back A.J. was gone. The patio doors were open.”
“Call the sheriff. Call everyone you know.” Punching numbers into the phone he bolted outside and ran from Brooke’s yard to his. “A.J.! A.J.!”
The terror inside him grew into a monster, tearing at his insides, threatening to steal his sanity. He’d come close to losing A.J. once before. This couldn’t be happening.
Vaguely he heard Brooke’s voice calling, too. She was always diligent to the point of obsession with A.J. How could this have happened? How could she have allowed it to happen?
He raced around the house, calling, only to meet Brooke in the front yard.
“He’s not there. He’s not here.” Near hysteria, Brooke clawed at his arm. “The door was shut, Gabe. How did he get outside?”
“That’s what I want to know.” Beginning to shake, he fought fear and lost. Where was his son? “How could this happen? Where were you?”
The stricken look on her face slapped at him, but he was too scared to apologize.
“I told you. He was safe in the den, exhausted from the park. I promise, Gabe, he was almost asleep. Someone knocked at the door. I went to answer.”
“Who?”
Frustrated, crying now, she moaned. “No one was there. How could he get outside? The door was closed. He can’t open it by himself, can he?”
“I don’t know. He’s doing more and more on his own. He can open the bathroom door. Maybe…” He pressed a fist against his lips. With a deep groan of misery, visions of A.J. after the car accident flashed through Gabe’s head. Not again. Please Lord, wherever he is, keep him safe. “He can’t be that far away.”
Brooke gasped. Color drained from her cheeks. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no! The creek!”
She broke into a run. Gabe jammed his cell phone into a pocket and raced after her, heart thundering, mouth dry with terror. Not the creek. Dear God, not the creek. He’s only two.
Silver Creek ran a dozen yards behind their homes. Generally a low-flowing stream, rains or melting snow from the mountains could swell the water to several feet.
A hard rain had fallen this week.
His boots thudded heavily against the overgrown weeds and grass. Brooke, with her athlete’s form and tennis shoes outdistanced him. She reached the stream first and ran wildly along the bank. He heard her gulping sobs as he approached.
“Any sign?”
“Nothing.” But she kept moving.
“A.J. Where are you? A.J.? Come to Daddy.”
The trickle and babble of Silver Creek was his only answer.
Breathless from the run, Gabe stood with hands on hips, panting, adrenaline jacked to supersonic speed as he searched the rolling terrain between his home and the mountains beyond. A forest line bordered the mountains beyond the creek.
“He can’t have gone to the woods,” Brooke said, following his gaze. She was breathless, too, though more from crying than the run. “We’ll find him, Gabe. I’m sorry. Terribly sorry. I know I’ve let you down. I love him. I would never let anything happen to him.”
“But you did.” The words were out before he could stop them. They were unfair and cruel and though he wished them back immediately, the damage was done. With a sharp cry of hurt, Brooke spun away to continue the search.
Miles of field and unimproved terrain surrounded this neighborhood on the edge of town. As far as his eye could see were grass and flowers and fences, but no small boy.
Leaving Brooke to search this vector, he jogged back to the house. The sheriff was on his way. He’d want information. And some small part of him kept hoping to find A.J. playing in his room or on the patio. None of this made sense. Not Brooke’s explanation. Not the sudden, swift, complete disappearance of a toddler too small to get far on his own. Where was he?
