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Chapter 15

Jude

“I ’m having second thoughts about this.” I scanned the empty forest, searching for anything unnatural. This had seemed like a good plan yesterday, but after the bikers showed up at the office, I’d changed my mind. I wanted to lock Mila up in my house and never let her out.

“It’s seven a.m. We’re the only people awake, never mind hiking in the freezing cold woods,” she quipped, tromping up the path from the parking lot.

“But those guys—”

“Are sleeping off last night’s bender.” She cut me off. “This is our best chance.”

She pulled the gray beanie lower, tucking her hair inside. Between that and the sunglasses, she was almost unrecognizable. The Racine field jacket I’d pulled out of the closet for her made her look like another hiker, roaming the woods with me and my dog.

But I couldn’t shake the fear, the feeling that we were in danger.

Though her injuries were healing, she still had a way to go. Willa insisted she still wear her sling, and she’d only just finished the antibiotics.

Being out here must be terrifying for her.

The uncertainty and danger ate at me. This had to end. It had changed the lives of every one of my brothers. We’d never be the people we were before Dad went to prison. And Mila? How could she ever go back to the life she’d lived before her brother was attacked?

I consulted the map on my phone as we walked the path, headed to a more densely wooded area. We’d put a lot of time into planning our search grid and recreating the route she’d taken. From the parking lot, we’d have to hike a couple of miles before we hit our search perimeter. We sipped coffee from the thermos I’d brought and walked quietly as Ripley jumped over exposed roots and sniffed almost every tree.

“The forest reminds me of Hugo,” Mila said, tilting her head to look up at the gray sky. “He’s the outdoorsy one. A habitat biologist. Total idealist. Believes that business and nature can coexist, that we can protect plants and animals if we do it right.”

I hummed in agreement.

She let out a humorless chuckle. “All that hope and belief in doing what’s right, and he ended up almost beaten to death outside your office.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, chest aching. That was a hard day for us. I couldn’t imagine the pain she felt when she’d gotten the news. “Lila, my brother’s fiancée, found him while she was on a run. Called 911 and gave him CPR.”

She dipped her chin and tugged the collar of her jacket up higher. “I’ve read all the police reports. Someday I’d like to thank her in person.”

As we walked, our breaths puffed out in white clouds in front of us. It was shaping up to be a typical Maine fall day. Though it was freezing now, by midafternoon, the sun would be out, warming the air to a bearable temperature, and for a glorious few hours, we’d take off our coats. As the sun started its descent, the jackets would reappear, and by nightfall, it would be freezing again.

“He was the quiet, gentle one. He was born premature, and even then, when I was five years old, I remember looking at him in the plastic bassinet at the hospital, thinking he was so tiny and helpless, vowing that I’d always protect him.

“He’s a grown man, but he’ll always be my little brother. The two of us stuck together. We were both nerdy kids. He was the outdoorsy one who loved science, while I was reading Sherlock Holmes .”

It was baffling, the mixture of joy and pain on her face as she talked about her brother.

“He loved his job,” she continued, forging ahead. “He loved protecting the forest and its creatures. So every time I come out here, I feel that peace. Always have. Only now, it’s tinged with rage. Because the person who loves this”—she held out her good arm, gesturing to the forest—“the most, who taught me to stand still and appreciate nature, is currently in a hospital room hooked up to machines.”

My heart ached for her. “What’s the prognosis?”

She kicked a rock, sending it skittering into the brush. “Not great. Comas are weird. Most are very short, and some are very long. But he still has brain activity. Some days a lot of it. So it is possible he’ll recover. Now it’s a waiting game.”

I ducked my head and scratched at my neck, once again at a loss for the right thing to say. “I’m sorry.”

“He’ll come back. I know he will. I can’t fathom the alternative. His body responds to stimuli. We’ve had specialists from Boston come in several times. Initially it was swelling and a brain bleed, but then he had a stroke during surgery, which put additional stress on his brain.”

“Sounds like he’s getting excellent care.”

She shrugged. “Decent. I’d prefer he be in Boston. Mass General has a neurology ICU and the best doctors in the world, but given his odds, they did not accept him when I pushed for it. My mom doesn’t want him moved there anyway. She can’t afford to pack up and relocate to Boston to be with him every day. So it’s fine.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Eh, it’s medicine.” She lifted one shoulder. “They want the cases they can cure and write papers about in journals. But I don’t care what the odds are. They don’t apply to Hugo. He’s better than the rest of us. Kind and funny and filled with so much joy. He will wake up and he will get his life back.”

Her voice was filled with sadness, but the love she had for her brother radiated from her.

“You should have seen him as a kid, writing careful notes about the species of beetles in our backyard. So excited to talk our ears off about bird migration patterns or the role of moss in erosion control.”

That comment brought with it thoughts of my own brothers. The six of us had complicated relationships, but every one was built on love and camaraderie. For years, I’d had to worry each time Noah deployed to a fire. And there were times during Finn’s stint as a Navy pilot when he flew missions that demanded a level of security that kept him from contacting any of us.

“That was one of the reasons,” she said softly.

So wrapped up in my own thoughts, I missed what she’d said. “Sorry.” I shook the cobwebs from my mind. “Reasons for what?”

“I saw the newspapers about the fire at your brother’s place, and I’d heard talk about the issues Souza had with Cole. I thought…” She sighed, her focus fixed on the path ahead. “I thought you’d understand the agony and the fear, and I hoped that you might want to help.”

I did want to help. I was already mentally calculating how I could help her brother get better medical care, catch the bad guys, and solve every problem she’d ever had or ever could have.

The tug in my chest was firm enough to cause physical pain. Eventually, I’d have to examine the how and the why behind the impossible-to-ignore desire to be everything she could ever need, but right now, we were on a mission.

“This is it.” She pointed ahead. “This is where I got off the path and headed into the forest.” Coming to a stop, she turned slowly, surveying the area around us. “I hurdled over those.” She pointed toward several fallen trees. “And down that hill is where I grabbed the tree and dislocated my shoulder.”

Her face was impassive, stoic, her muscles locked up tight.

I put my hand on her shoulder, hoping to ground her as she relived what must have been a terrifying experience.

“You’re really brave,” I said softly.

Her lips tipped up almost imperceptibly as she peered over at me.

I knew the hike would be grueling for her in her injured state, but I hadn’t anticipated how emotional this would be.

I wanted to gather her in my arms and promise to fix it all. I wanted to swear I’d find a way to take them down.

There was nothing I wouldn’t do for Mila.

For now, though, I had to stay focused. I couldn’t drift away along a current of memories of her touch, her sleepy smiles, or the way she’d whimpered when I’d pushed inside her for the first time.

Nope. That was totally out of bounds. I’d assured her that we could work together. And I was nothing if not a man of my word.

“We should get on with it. I haven’t made it this far yet.”

With a nod, I got my phone out and recorded our GPS coordinates, then added them to the map I’d created.

Then, as I tucked the device into my pocket again, I dipped my head. “Show me where you hid.”

She pointed, and I got to work clearing a path with my boot, kicking leaves and twigs out of the way.

Ripley sniffed around, taking in all the details.

I was on alert, worried we’d be caught unaware. But Ripley had a keen sense of hearing. She’d bark if anyone approached.

“Over that way,” Mila urged, kicking her way down the path, scanning the ground for the phone.

I rolled one rotting log away from another, scouring the cold, wet ground.

Fuck, she’d lain on the ground for God knew how long, injured and hiding. I couldn’t imagine.

Together we followed her path as best as we could, scanning and searching, digging when necessary.

Despite the circumstances, it was peaceful work. I’d always loved the quiet of the forest.

After a few hours, though, her feet had begun dragging and her posture was stooped. She had to be exhausted.

We recorded the coordinates of a few more spots, and then she guided me back along the path she’d taken to the trail on the far side of the forest toward my house.

Once we’d done a thorough search of the hiding spot, I pulled out a Thermos of hot coffee and a couple of bags of snacks.

We sat on a large, flat rock, sipping coffee while my mind spun around in circles, alternating between hope and panic.

Mila surprised me, bracing her good hand behind her and tilting her face toward the sun. Eyes closed and mouth tipped in a smile, she said, “There isn’t much better than this. I’ve always loved the smell and the sounds of the forest and the warmth of the sunshine on a chilly fall day.”

She trailed off, taking in our surroundings not with the intent of searching for the phone, but in wonder, really drinking in the scene.

“The last time I was here, I was terrified. But sitting here with you, I feel safe.”

My heart stuttered at her words. My instinct was to puff up with pride. Of course I could keep her safe. But I reined it in. In reality, that safety was only an illusion. She was in danger. We both knew it.

But her attitude was contagious. This place was beautiful. The foliage and the crisp air fueled me and encouraged me to keep going.

She reached into the pocket of the giant jacket I’d lent her and held out a treat to Ripley, who sat patiently, her tail beating the dirt path with excitement.

“I love this dog.” She leaned forward and scratched her ears. “You are the best girl, Ripley. The best.”

With a quiet groan that betrayed just how much this excursion had taken out of her, she sat up.

“Where did you get her?”

I opened my mouth, but before I could respond, a familiar sound interrupted me.

“Do you hear that?” I pivoted, scanning the trees. “There,” I said, pointing at a massive curved oak up ahead. “That’s an American redstart.”

She squinted, one hand blocking the sun from her eyes. “The little black bird?”

I hummed. “See his long tail and the orange streaks?”

She nodded.

“They’re a protected species up here. Listen.”

We sat perfectly still, and eventually, the bird opened its flat bill and let out a series of melodic squeaks and chirps.

“That’s different.”

“Yes, their warble is longer than that of most birds. We’ve done a lot up here to protect habitats, and I did a lot of research, so I nerd out when I see one.”

She picked at the trail mix and grinned. “You’re a birdwatcher? Never would have guessed that.”

“I’m a student of the forest.” I leaned back on my hands. “Spent my life out here, getting to know the trees and the animals. And birds are fascinating creatures.”

“You’re full of surprises.” She rubbed Ripley’s head, her expression softening. “Now where did you find this beautiful creature and how sad will you be when I steal her?”

Ripley watched Mila, her eyes full of love and devotion. The sight sent a surge of panic through me. She really could steal my beloved dog. Ripley would probably go willingly, and I didn’t think I’d have the heart to stop her.

“She found me.” I poured trail mix into my hand and tossed it into my mouth. “Up at the Northwest Camp, near the Montreal border. It’s been about five years now, I think. We went up one early spring, while the ground was still frozen, to do a survey and collect some data. We were sleeping in an old camp hut with no heat. It was nearly impossible to sleep with the number of mice scurrying around in the walls and ceiling. I was lying in bed, wide awake, when I heard a crying sound. I shoved my feet into my boots and pulled on my coat, then went out to investigate.”

Mila’s eyes widened. “Was she hurt?”

I nodded. “I found her in the deep woods. She’d dug herself a little den under a boulder. She had a broken leg. Her fur was matted and she was scraped up pretty badly.” I scratched her chin, assessing her now. My beloved Ripley. How far we’d both come since that day. She was the most loving, protective creature on earth. She went everywhere with me, and at night, she slept in her special bed, on the floor right next to mine.

“We were hundreds of miles from civilization. I couldn’t tell you where she came from, but she was small and scared and I…” I dropped my head between my knees. The thought of how malnourished she was back then always hit me hard.

“You’re a protector,” Mila finished with a light elbow to my ribs. “No denying it.”

“Something like that.” I straightened, keeping my forearms on my knees. “So I brought her home and took her to the vet. After that, we were inseparable. I had no idea she’d grow into the size of a small horse, but I’m not complaining.”

The gentle beast gazed up at me with those soulful dark eyes, showing me again that she understood so much more than I realized.

The vet had suggested she was part wolf hound. It made sense, with the dark gray fur with the occasional black spot. She had a white circle around one eye, which wasn’t a wolf hound trait, but she was perfectly Ripley.

“She adores you,” Mila said, pulling another treat from her pocket. “I’ve never had a pet. Always wanted one, even though I wasn’t sure I was a dog person.”

“Even as a kid?”

She nodded. “My parents worked a lot. I swore that when I was grown, I’d get a cat. I love cats.”

Ripley wrinkled her snout as if disgusted by the suggestion.

“But then I traveled all the time, chasing stories and packing up with a day’s notice. So it never felt practical.”

“You’re a dog person,” I assured her. “And you can hang out with Ripley any time you want. She’s pretty ambivalent about people, but she likes you.”

A smile spread across Mila’s face. “It’s mutual.” She stood, brushing crumbs off her lap. “We should get back to work.”

I packed up the Thermos while she continued to scan with her flashlight, kicking leaves and dirt to clear a path.

“And I wasn’t kidding about stealing her,” she teased.

A couple of hours later, we’d covered a significant portion of our route, but we’d had no success, and the cold was setting in.

We’d been at it since sunrise, and after our snack break, I’d felt recharged, but now I was quickly losing steam.

Mila’s calm from earlier had morphed into agitation. All morning, I’d reassured her that if we stuck to the grid, it would turn up. But the longer we searched, the harder it was to remain positive.

With her back to me, she hunched over, sniffling.

Gut lurching, I hopped over a fallen tree and darted for her.

“Are you hurt?” I took her good hand between mine to warm it and ducked, catching her sorrowful eyes.

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

“We will find it,” I said with a conviction I didn’t feel.

“What if we don’t?” she whispered as the tears crested her lashes and tracked down her cheeks. “What if it got smashed or broken and it’s all gone?” Before I could respond, she pulled her hand away and fisted it at her side. “This is hopeless. I’m a complete failure.”

The words had me snapping up straight. I was used to confident Mila, sassy Mila, and injured Mila. But sobbing Mila was distressing. She hadn’t made an appearance since that first full day after she was attacked.

The pain and defeat in her tone tore at me, ripping me apart.

Without thinking, I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her, careful of her shoulder. I rested my chin on her head and held her as she cried into my chest.

This was all I could offer her. Warmth and comfort.

I’d fucked up. I’d promised her we’d find the phone, and I hadn’t delivered.

I held her close, aching to make this all go away.

“Let’s take a break. We can come back tomorrow.”

“No.” She sniffled. “Every minute that we don’t have the evidence is another minute these fuckers are hurting people.”

I eased back and surveyed her face, cataloging the fierce determination in her eyes.

In that moment, my world shifted.

As I held her shaking body while she spoke with such steel in her voice, I knew I was gone.

Life would never be the same.

And while that should have terrified me, the realization brought nothing with it but peace.