Page 5

I knock on the front door, then ring the doorbell. Less than thirty seconds later, I hear the scrabbling of claws on hardwood, followed by two more dogs barking.

After another series of knocks, I call out loudly, “Rory. Is everything okay? Do you need help?”

But there’s no response, aside from more barking.

After I try a second time with no more luck, my mind starts racing to even worse places.

Rory sick inside. Rory at the bottom of the basement stairs, unconscious or immobile from a broken leg. Or?—

No. There has to be a rational explanation.

Maybe she ran out to the store?

A beat later, I realize how ridiculous that sounds. At this time of morning, there’s exactly one place in Bliss that’s open—Breakfast Bliss. But Rory wouldn’t have left the dogs hungry and waiting while she went to buy breakfast. There’s no way.

My stomach twists into a knot.

Tension pulls at my neck and shoulders.

Where is she?

Wait. The phone. I have Rory’s number, not that I’ve ever used it, but she gave it to me after I adopted Dewey with the instructions to call if I had any problems.

So I call her number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

I send her a text. But after more than a minute, there’s no response.

What’s going on?

The more time that passes, the more certain I am that something is wrong. It’s just like that gut feeling I’d get on some of our ops, and more often than not, my gut was right.

Except that time in Syria…

Nope. Not now.

I shake my head to chase away the thought.

This is more important.

As I stand on the front porch listening to the cacophony of dogs barking, I run through my options.

Wait. Keep calling until she hopefully picks up. Pick the lock to the barn door—that’s something we taught ourselves as a just-in-case skill once we started GMG—and at the least, take care of the dogs.

Call the police. But what would I say? There’s no real evidence that something’s wrong.

Or.

I could use her dogs. Elmore and Toby might be able to find her. And I can get into the house, though I would never consider using the key she keeps hidden in the little lantern by the door in normal circumstances.

These aren’t normal circumstances, though. And as Rory’s friend, as a protector, I need to do something.

So I get the key. Unlock the door. And the two dogs come exploding outside, leaping around my legs and barking madly, which is yet another sign that my gut isn’t wrong. Unlike the other rescue dogs, these two are extremely well trained, and I’ve never seen them like this before.

I click at them with my tongue, just the way I hear Rory do it, and it works. They both go quiet, falling into position beside me.

“Elmore. Toby.” I wait until they’re looking at me before saying in a low and commanding tone, “We need to find Rory. Can you find your mom?”

For a few seconds, they just stare at me.

Inwardly, I scold myself. These aren’t search and rescue dogs. How would they know how to?—

Then they both take off across the lawn.

I clearly didn’t think the next part through clearly. Me, having to run after Toby and Elmore as they race around the house and barn, when running is probably my weakest ability.

At least, it is now.

But I’m not going to let my weakness control me, so I push past the discomfort and instability, forcing myself to keep up with the two dogs through sheer strength of will.

I catch my foot on a divot in the ground a few times, but I keep my pace steady.

Whether or not someone else is watching, I refuse to let myself fall.

We make two rounds of the yard immediately around the house, the dogs sniffing madly while I call out, “Rory! Ror. Are you out here?”

Still, nothing.

The weight in my stomach gets even heavier.

And as the dogs start running towards the treeline, I wonder if I made a mistake. Maybe I should have gone into the house first instead of trying to track her. Her dogs could just be on a morning romp, with no awareness of where Rory is at all. They?—

Just at the edge of the trees, Elmore lets out a sharp bark.

Then he lunges into the woods, Toby following close after him.

It’s even tricker keeping my pace quick and steady with all the sticks and branches and rocks to navigate.

But I channel everything I learned during my training in the Army—how to move without being noticed, how to stay aware of my surroundings while still moving quickly—and I manage to keep pace with them.

As I run, adrenaline and sweat chase away the chill of the morning. Every fifteen seconds or so, I call out Rory’s name again.

About two hundred yards into the woods, Elmore comes to an abrupt stop, causing Toby to nearly barrel right over him. A second later, Elmore veers right, this time moving more slowly as he snuffles along the ground.

But did he pick up the scent of Rory? Or a rabbit? A squirrel? Am I out here on a fruitless goose chase while Rory is someplace else, still in trouble?

“Rory!” I call out again, worry making my voice rough. “Ror! Are you out here?”

A moment later, two things happen quickly.

Elmore lets out a sharp yip and makes a quick left, speeding towards a thick cluster of trees.

Then I hear a low groan.

It’s soft. Edged with pain.

“Rory!” I shout. “Ror!”

As I approach the group of maples, there’s a light rustling. A beat later, another groan.

Rory?

My heart ratchets up to double speed, skipping in uneven bursts.

Elmore reaches the trees a few feet ahead of me and shoves his nose in a pile of moldering leaves.

The leaves move. Not from his nose. But something else.

Just as I get there, Rory emerges from the pile, sitting up slowly and blinking in confusion. Leaves and bits of twigs are caught in her hair. Her face is ghostly pale and her lips are a purplish blue.

“Rory,” I gasp as I crash to my knees beside her. “What happened? Why?—”

But the sight of her face steals my words.

There’s a huge goose egg on her forehead, already turning a lurid blue. Thin scratches mar her cheeks, pink and angry, but no longer bleeding. As she looks at me, her eyes are dazed.

“Ror. What happened?” I hate to touch her without permission, but she’s just staring at me without speaking. I can’t tell how much she understands. Or how badly she’s hurt from injuries I can’t yet see.

Her forehead scrunches up. In a tiny voice, she asks, “Gage? What?—”

Then she lifts her chin and I see them.

Rage explodes in my chest.

My molars nearly shatter as I try to keep from shouting in fury.

Fingerprints. Large ones. On her neck. Ones she couldn’t have put there herself.

Fuck .

I take a steadying breath, knowing I need to keep calm even though I’m close to losing it.

Rory hurt. In the woods.

Not just hurt. Someone hurt her.

“Rory, can you talk to me?” I ask, keeping my voice pitched low. I’ve never been the reassuring type, preferring to let someone else do it, but every cell in my body is aching to comfort her. To protect her.

To find the person responsible for this and hurt them ten times worse than anything they did to her.

“Gage?” Her pretty features squinch up in pain. Tears well up in her eyes. “I don’t… Why am I out here? What happened?”

“I don’t know. But let’s not worry about that right now. I’m more concerned?—”

Her hand touches the back of mine, and it’s icy cold. I belatedly realize she’s got to be freezing. It’s barely fifty degrees, and who knows how long she’s been out here.

Elmore and Toby crowd around Rory on either side of her, nosing at her face. Her brows draw together in a little V. In the distance, the sound of barking filters through the trees.

“Gage.” Her chin wobbles, along with her voice. “The dogs. Why are they barking? What’s wrong?”

I’m torn between reaching for Rory and telling her to stay still. If she has internal injuries, moving her could make them worse. But she’s freezing, confused, and hurting. I can’t stand the thought of leaving her out here any longer.

“They’re just hungry, I think,” I tell her. “But I’m sure they’re okay.”

“Oh, I need to feed them.” She struggles to get to her feet, but only makes it halfway before her legs collapse under her. A tear streaks down her cheek. “I… I don’t understand. Why am I here?”

“Okay, Ror. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Crouching by her side, I put one arm behind her back. “I’m going to help you inside. But first, can you tell me what hurts? I’m sure your head does, and your”—my teeth grind together painfully—“neck. But what about your stomach? Your back? Your legs?”

“I…” Rory takes a steadying breath. Sets her shoulders.

And there. That’s the strong woman I’ve gotten to know over the last six months. The one who never asks for help. The one who faces every challenge without flinching.

“Nothing else hurts,” she tells me. “I think, if you help me up, I could walk.”

But I have serious doubts about that once I get her on her feet. She sways almost immediately, sagging against me. Her fingers clutch at my arm.

And now that she’s standing, I realize she’s only in her pajamas. Loose cotton pants and a sweatshirt, so at least she’s covered, but not nearly enough for this kind of weather.

Not for the first time, and I’m sure not the last, I wonder, What went on out here? Why is Rory in the woods, hurt and cold, instead of safe at her house or the barn?

When she takes a staggering step forward and sways again, I do what my instincts are telling me and gently lift Rory into my arms. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “But you really need to get inside. Get warm. And it’ll be quicker if we do it this way. If you don’t mind me touching you?”

She tilts her head towards me. Her green eyes meet mine, and there’s a trust within her gaze I wasn’t expecting. In a whisper, she replies, “I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” I adjust her small body in my arms, one arm behind her back and the other beneath her legs.

Trying to force a reassuring smile that probably looks more like a grimace, I say, “I’ll have you inside in a couple of minutes.

Then we can call the police, the ambulance, get you warm and checked over. Alright?”

Without waiting for an answer, I start moving back towards the house, with Elmore and Toby obediently trotting alongside me. Worry and anger pulse in alternating waves. And I find myself hugging Rory closer to my chest.

Just as we’re emerging from the trees and the house comes back into view again, Rory stiffens. “Gage.”

“What, Ror?”

She pauses. Sniffs. Shudders in my arms. “I… I don’t remember.”

“What?”

“I don’t remember,” she repeats. “I don’t know why I was out there.”

A chill that has nothing to do with the temperature encases my lungs.

“What do you mean?” I ask in a careful tone.

More tears escape, leaking down Rory’s cheeks. Two white teeth dig into her lower lip. “The last thing I remember was getting ready for bed. I don’t remember anything after that.”

“You don’t remember going outside? Or anyone?—”

“No.” She shakes her head vehemently, wincing as she does it. “I don’t remember any of it.” Then she buries her face in my neck, wetting my skin with her tears. “I don’t know what happened. And I’m….”

That ever-present belt around my chest wrenches tighter. “What, Ror?”

A few seconds go by before she answers. “I’m scared, Gage.”

Oh.

Protectiveness like I’ve never felt before sweeps through me.

“It’s okay,” I reply, while feeling anything but. “We’ll figure it out.”

Her eyes meet mine again, wide and pleading. “You’ll stay with me?”

“Ror.” My chest squeezes. “Of course I will.”