Kaleidoscope Eyes (39 page)

“You have to tell her. She needs to know.”

Jed’s ominous words breathed new life into the fear within her. She looked at her brother. “Know what?”

Dan took the note from her. “This was on a searcher’s car, Annie.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“How did it get there?”

Understanding was immediate—and terrifying. She put a hand on the table to steady herself.

“He’s here.”

Perfect.

It was perfect. Just the right amount of tears.

Just the right amount of blood.

He looked at the child curled into a ball on the cot, a thin blanket tossed over her restless form. He could have used her blood. Seriously considered it. But one thought held him back.

What if he made a mistake?

He wasn’t a doctor. What if he cut her too deep, or couldn’t stop the bleeding? Then she’d be dead and of absolutely no use to him.

No, this had been better. Of course, they’d know as soon as they tested it that the blood type was wrong. But until then …

Oh. Until then. The agony Annie would suffer. Agony that would break her heart. Her spirit. Her love for this damnable pastime that wasted her time and talents.

Oh, yes. Annie would suffer.

He could hardly wait to see it.

FORTY        

O
CTOBER
25—A C
ORNFLOWER
D
AY
(G
REEN AND
B
LUE
)

6:00 a.m.

God, what are You doing?

Annie stood just outside her tent, staring at the blanket of white that covered the ground, weighted the trees, coated the tents. At the large, fluffy flakes floating down from the muted sky. There was pristine beauty in the sight, but not even the artist in Annie could appreciate it.

All she felt was despair.

Bad enough that her brother followed her everywhere like an extra shadow. That when she and Kodi were out, Jed and Andy made her nervous as a cat with the way they kept scanning around them for any possible evil.

Now this.

Father, how could You let it snow? Doesn’t Amberly have enough working against her?

And though only a few inches had fallen, it would make the
work harder on Kodi as well. There would be spots where the powder was fairly deep—hard going for the shepherd, even with her long legs. To make matters worse, the drop in temperature would make much less scent. Like trying to smell an ice cube.

Annie knelt, lifting a handful of the dry, powdery substance. Wonderful. Just wonderful. Kodi would practically have to trip over Amberly to find her.

What next, Lord? What else can happen to keep us from finding Amberly?

“This isn’t good, is it?”

Jed’s voice fell as soft as the snow, a touch of warmth in the cold. But Annie didn’t turn. She couldn’t. Couldn’t bear facing him and the snow at the same time. She dropped the snow she’d been holding and stood. “No. It’s not.”

“I just wanted to let you know Andy and I are ready whenever you and Kodi are.”

She rubbed one gloved hand with the other. “Okay. We’ll head out right after we eat breakfast. In a half hour.”

Snow crunched behind her as Jed walked away. The sound tugged at her heart. Everything within her wanted to turn, to call him back. To have things like they were.

But what they’d shared was lost. And not even Annie could find it again.

No matter how much she wanted to.

“I take it that’s the infamous Jed?”

Annie spun, her mouth falling open. “Killian!”

He opened his arms to her, and Annie didn’t hesitate. She went to him, letting him enfold her in a comforting hug.

“What’s wrong, Annie? You look so heartbroken.”

She shook her head and stepped back. “What on earth are you doing here? You hate the cold!”

His shoulders lifted, the motion eloquent. “I may hate the cold, but I love you. I told you I’d think about what you said, about how all this—” he waved his hand, encompassing the search site, the tents, everything around them—“fed your soul.
That thought won’t leave me alone. So I decided if I’m going to call myself your friend, I need to understand what it is about this that inspires you so.”

She took his hand, then looked down. “Killian, what did you do to yourself?”

“Oh, you know me.” He pulled the bandaged hand away. “Clumsy to a fault. I had a bit of an argument with a utility knife when I was opening boxes at the gallery yesterday. Ryan called me every kind of fool for not being more careful.”

“Good thing he was there.” Annie grinned. “You get faint at the sight of blood.”

“Yes, well. Enough about me.” He linked his arm in hers. “I heard you say you’re nearly ready to go out again. So show me where I can wait until you come back.”

Annie laughed, and this time it was even sincere. “Thanks for coming out here, Killie. It means a lot to me.”

“Me too.” He didn’t meet her gaze, but there was a small smile on his lips. “Me too.”

Stillness.

That’s what surrounded them as Jed and Andy walked along, a couple of paces behind Annie. Sounds were both muffled and magnified at the same time. The crunch of their feet on the snow was swallowed almost as soon as it sounded. And yet the steady tinkling of Kodi’s bell drifted to them as clear as if the dog stood beside them. From what Annie had told them the first night they trailed her though, the dog could have ranged a considerable distance away

Jed couldn’t imagine it. “Aren’t you afraid Kodi’ll get lost herself?”

“She’d have to work at losing me.”

“Surely she can’t see you from that far away.”

A smile crooked Annie’s lips. “All she has to do is smell me. Remember, a search dog has forty-four times the olfactory sensory cells a human does.”

That brought Andy peeking out from behind the camera. “Man! That’s a super sniffer.”

“That it is, but it makes sense. God created these animals to be scent smart. Twelve percent of their brains are dedicated to scent analysis. That’s twelve times the percentage for human brains.”

Jed loved listening to Annie talk about all of this. He seldom had to coax her into doing so. She was so passionate about what she and Kodi were doing, the thoughts just poured out of her. “Such as?”

“There only needs to be roughly one part of scent per ten quadrillion for Kodi to detect it. One in ten
quadrillion.
I can’t even imagine how much that is, but she can do it. It’s as easy for her as breathing.”

“She was made to do this.”

“That she wa—” Annie stopped so suddenly Jed had to grab Andy to keep him from running right over her. She held up one hand, head cocked, listening.

Jed perked his ears too and caught the sound that must have captured her attention.

Kodi’s bell was ringing to beat the band.

He watched Annie, waiting for excitement to fill her features. But it wasn’t there. Instead he saw something he didn’t understand.

Apprehension.

Until, that is, Kodi came flying through the trees toward Annie. The shepherd bounded up to her mistress, and Jed found himself tensing his own muscles as Annie readied for those big paws to punch her thighs. Kodi jumped up, and Annie’s praise was immediate. “Good girl, Kodi!”

Jed had to fight not to groan. How did a woman as petite as Annie stay on her feet when that much force hit her?

She’s strong.

She was that. In more ways than just physical.

“Show me, Kode! Good puppy, show me!”

Kodi spun and ran, Annie, Jed, and Andy hot on her heels, dodging trees and scrambling over brush and fallen branches. Jed could hear Annie saying something as she ran but couldn’t quite
make out what it was. He sped up, drawing closer—and his heart constricted when he finally understood what she was saying.

“Please … please be there … please …”

Longing flooded Jed. He ached to comfort her, to
do
something, to give her what she was asking. To ease the burden weighting her features more every day.

And the pain.

“Hey, Jed, you okay?”

He looked over his shoulder at Andy, who’d turned off the camera to navigate a wide stretch of blackberry bushes. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look … I don’t know, like you’re having chest pains or something.”

Jed forced a touch of humor to his tone. “Look at it this way. If I keel over, it’ll make for a great show”

He’d never admit it, but Andy was right. He was having chest pains. Just not the kind Andy thought.

Seeing Annie hurt like this, hearing her fear—it tore at him like the blackberry thorns snagging his clothing. With a deep gulp of the cold air, Jed turned to the place—no, the One—who’d become a haven since that night he watched Annie scream at the darkness. Since he’d poured out his heart, begging help.

And forgiveness.

Cod, please, help her. This is crushing her heart. Her spirit. She loves You. She’s trying to do what You’ve called her to do. Please, help her.

A long-forgotten peace descended on him, its touch like that of the snowflakes that brushed his face as they tumbled by Light. Cool. Fresh.

And as he broke free from the blackberries, he realized something inside had broken free as well. The pain was gone. In its place was a growing certainty God had forgiven him. Restored him. He didn’t have to worry about having the right to ask for help.

God was his Father. He would hear him.

And He would answer.

FORTY-ONE        

T
here’s something there! Look!”

The excitement ringing in Annie’s words was contagious. Before he could stop himself, Jed grabbed Andy’s arm. “You getting all this?”

Andy shrugged Jed’s hand off. “Quit! You’re making me lose the shot.”

“Sorry.” He knew he should just let Andy do his job, but he couldn’t help himself. He hopped behind Andy, peering over his shoulder into the viewfinder. “Zoom in on her.”

Andy did as Jed ordered, and the camera zeroed in on Annie’s face. Jed could see everything. Every nuance of emotion flitting across her features. The way her eyes shone, the tentative smile that nudged the corners of her mouth. The rapid blinking of eyes that suddenly glistened with tears.

Go, Annie. Find her. You can do it.

The camera panned out, catching Kodi in action. The shepherd sped up, bounding through the snow like a four-legged pogo stick.
Then with a suddenness that took Jed’s breath away, Kodi stopped.

“Do you see anything?”

“Jed, back off! You’re fogging up the viewfinder!”

He swatted the back of Andy’s head, but he stepped back. “Zoom in. Do you
see
anything?” He held his breath, waiting. One heartbeat. Two.

“No.”

Jed’s stomach plummeted.
No?
That wasn’t possible! He saw the way Kodi acted. And there was that certainty inside. “She
has
to be there.”

“What is going on?”

Annie’s cry of frustration rent the air, and Jed started toward her. Despair was etched in her features, in her stance. He watched her push the emotion aside as she applauded Kodi.

But the dog wasn’t fooled.

She looked up at Annie, then circled the spot, shoving her nose into the snow. With a sharp bark, she dug at the offending ground.

“Kodi, it’s okay.” Annie’s voice caught. “Leave it.”

The dog’s digging grew more frantic.

Jed snagged Annie’s arm as she started toward Kodi, apparently intent on stopping the dog.