Doing It Over Page 53

Wyatt saw her standing still and ran to her side. “Did they find her?”

Melanie shook her head, returned to the radio. “I’m on my way.”

She turned toward the inn and started to jog.

Wyatt kept pace beside her. “What’s going on?”

“Jo brought in the dogs.”

Sweat rolled down her back as she hit the inn’s deck completely out of breath.

The barking of dogs kept her jogging until she rounded the front of the inn.

Cars were everywhere. Two more squad cars, both from neighboring towns, were tossed into the mix. The sheer mass of them brought home the magnitude of her missing daughter.

Miss Gina saw them first and called into the house for Jo.

“How you holding up?” Miss Gina asked.

Melanie didn’t trust herself to speak.

Miss Gina lowered her head. “I should have kept a better eye on her.”

Melanie shot a hand in the air. “No. This is not your fault.”

“If I had—”

She jumped right up into her friend’s face. “This is not your fault!”

Melanie pushed past Miss Gina, saw Wyatt from the corner of her eye.

It’s my fault.

“Mel?”

Jo stood with two other uniformed officers, people Mel didn’t recognize.

“That was quick.” Jo wasted little time introducing the dog handlers.

“What we need is something of Hope’s that has her scent on it.”

“Like a sweater?”

“Only if it’s seldom washed. Stuffed animals, favorite blanket . . . that kind of thing is better.”

She ran upstairs and dived for the bed, found a favored stuffed toy, then searched a drawer for a ratty baby blanket that Hope often slept with, but always put away in the morning. Someone had teased her about it the year before when they lived in Bakersfield, and now Hope hid the thing and didn’t talk about it.

Melanie buried her face in it and sucked in a deep breath. It smelled like her daughter.

She shook her head and jogged to Jo’s side before shoving the items into her friend’s hands.

Jo turned and gave them to the men at her side.

“Perfect.”

Both officers had to be in their forties, one a little thicker than the other. They both had kind smiles and faces that didn’t tell her a thing. “We’ll find her, Mrs. Bartlett.”

“It’s Miss.”

The officer on her right—she’d already forgotten his name—nodded and walked from the room.

Wyatt walked in, a bottle of water in his hand. “Here.”

She started to shake her head.

“Melanie.” He thrust it into her hand.

“Fine.” She took it from him and swallowed half the bottle in one gulp before putting the lid back on.

“I should go with them,” Melanie told Jo.

“You should rest for a minute, catch your breath.”

Melanie ignored her friend and turned to leave. She wasn’t going to rest until Hope was back in her arms.

“Mel!” Jo attempted to stop her.

Melanie lifted her hand, middle finger in the air, and continued out the door.

Wyatt fell into step beside her.

“Are you going to tell me to rest?” she asked.

“Nope.”

She offered him a passing glance. “Good.”

“Officer Maaco?” Wyatt called out to the man pushing Hope’s blanket into the nose of a German shepherd.

Maaco passed a look between the two of them with understanding.

“Bella is one of the best, Miss Bartlett. Since your daughter lives here, she might explore the grounds for a little bit, but she’ll catch Hope’s recent scent.”

“Okay.” Not okay . . . none of this is okay. The desperation of the day started to weigh in as Bella sniffed around the places Hope usually played. It seemed the dog chased her tail and spun in circles.

Melanie clenched her hands into tight fists and tried to wait.

Bella, and her counterpart, Fisher, both headed off in the same direction at nearly the same time.

The direction they headed was entirely opposite of what Melanie expected.

The dogs went north, leaving behind the south woods they had been searching.

“Where are they going?”

“Following a scent, ma’am.”

It was time for Melanie to turn a full circle. “We never walk this way.”

Bella ran and Maaco followed. “She did today, Miss Bartlett.”

Melanie and Wyatt jogged to keep up.

Maaco called into his radio, “The dogs found a scent, northwest.”

Jo’s voice screeched over the line. “Damn, all right . . . moving reinforcements your direction.”

“Copy.”

Wyatt kept pace beside her. His eyes scanned the landscape in silence, his jaw tight.

They had to be a half a mile from the inn when the dogs split in two directions.

“What the—?”

“They might double back.”

Melanie stared into Wyatt’s understanding eyes. “I’ll go with him,” he said, nodding toward the second K-9.

She bit her lip, nodded, and followed Bella.

Fifteen minutes later, a call came in to the radio.

“We have something.”

Maaco stopped midstride and Melanie held her handset tight. “What?”

“Her sweater. We found Hope’s sweater.”

“Is she in it?” There was a pause. Pain gripped her heart. “Is she in it?”

Wyatt’s voice replied. “No, baby . . . she’s not. We’re still looking.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It was an hour until dusk. The media had shown up once the Amber Alert had been issued, and according to Jo, Nathan had been notified of Hope’s disappearance.