Page 29 of The Nook for Brooks (Mulligan’s Mill #6)

CODY

I left Bea’s bar feeling raw, her words rattling around in my skull. Home is the bravest thing you can hope for. I wasn’t sure if she’d meant it as advice or a dare. Either way, I needed to see Brooks.

The sky was already edging into late afternoon as I reached the Nook. But instead of Brooks behind the counter or fussing with his bow ties, I found a Closed sign on the door and Milton perched on the doorstep, nose buried deep in his dragon book, backpack leaning against his knees.

“Hey, Milton,” I said, frowning at the darkened windows. “Why’s the store closed?”

He glanced up, pushing his glasses into place. “Mr. Beresford went for a stroll.”

“A stroll?” I repeated. “Where?”

Milton pointed toward the ridge. “He went into the woods.”

My jaw dropped. “The woods?”

Milton simply nodded. “Alone.”

This time my stomach dropped.

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh. I hope he doesn’t come across any dragons out there. According to this book, some of them a darn scary.”

My pulse thundered. The trees at the edge of town already looked like they were swallowing the last of the light. “Milton, you should head home. Right now.”

His eyes widened. “Is something wrong?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Before I knew it, I was running.

I bolted to the edge of town and headed for the woods, heart in my throat. The trees loomed large, shadows stretching long and black.

“Brooks!” I shouted, plunging into the undergrowth. “Brooks, where are you?”

The only answer was the rush of leaves and the crunch of my own boots on the dirt. I called out again, louder. “Brooks!”

Branches slashed across my arms as I pushed deeper, eyes straining against the gloom. The trail vanished under my feet, the dim light blotted out by thickening trees.

“Brooks!”

Nothing.

All I heard was the echo of my own voice and the snap of twigs somewhere far off that made my stomach twist.

It was getting dark. Too dark. I couldn’t see ten feet ahead anymore. My chest heaved as panic started to outpace reason. But I knew charging blindly into the forest at night wasn’t going to help either of us.

“Fuck,” I muttered, turning on my heel.

I sprinted back toward town, toward the warm lights of the BnB, praying I hadn’t just left Brooks to vanish into the dark.

I bounded up the steps of the BnB three at a time, lungs burning, heart jackhammering. I shoved open the front door and was vaguely aware of the aroma of blueberry muffins ready for tomorrow’s breakfast, but I was too panicked to stop and smell the baking.

Benji was bent over a vase at the reception counter while Bastian held swatches of wallpaper against the wall.

They both froze when they saw my face.

“Cody?” Benji blinked. “What on earth—what’s happened?”

I leaned against the counter, catching my breath. “It’s Brooks. He’s gone.”

“Gone?” Bastian’s voice was steady, but his brow furrowed. “What do you mean, ‘gone?’”

“Into the woods.” I forced the words out, heaving for air. “He went alone. It’s already dark out. He’s not back. I think he might be lost out there.”

The vase slipped in Benji’s grip and smashed on the floor. “Into the woods?” His voice pitched up. “But he never—he hates—”

“I know,” I cut in, my throat tight. “It’s all my fault. I dragged him on that stupid camping trip and now… now I don’t know what he’s doing! All I know is, we need to find him.”

Bastian dropped the wallpaper swatch and made a beeline for the counter, grabbing the phone. “We need Sheriff Gates. We need people. Lanterns. Flashlights. Whistles… We need an entire search party!”

The advice from Sheriff Gates was simple—assemble at the old mill and wait for further instructions.

By the time we barreled out of the BnB and headed for the edge of town, it felt like all of Mulligan’s Mill had picked up the cry and run with it.

Porch lights flickered on here and there.

Muffled conversations could be heard behind closed doors, but the panic in those voices was clear.

Benji, Bastian, and I reached the old mill first. A few minutes later, Harry and Dean pulled up on the road closest to the track to the mill and hurried over.

Harry was carrying equipment of some kind.

I didn’t know what it was until he set up floodlights and connected them to a generator.

He flicked a switch and the old mill and waterwheel threw their shadows onto the river like a giant clock hand, ticking down.

Dean unfolded a table and two camping chairs.

Everything felt suddenly real—and terrible—as I realized this had just become search party base camp.

Minutes later, Sheriff Gates pulled up in his cruiser and made his way toward us with the kind of quiet authority that made the world fall into line.

He was in his mid-fifties, silver-gray hair, shoulders strong as the mill’s beams. In his hand he carried a duffle bag that thudded with weight when he set in on the table.

The first thing he pulled out of it was a roll of maps which he unfurled on the table.

He took one look at us, then the situation, and in two breaths gathered the mayhem into something like a plan.

He started pulling other items out of the duffle—flashlights, whistles attached to neck lanyards, bottles of water—while at the same time looking over at me. “You must be the new guy in town.”

I reached forward to shake his hand. “Cody Cameron.”

“Sheriff Garrett Gates, but everyone calls me Sheriff Garrett. You’re the one who’s reported Brooks missing?”

“Yeah, I guess. I saw Milton outside the Book Nook. He said Brooks went off by himself into the woods. That was maybe five o’clock, perhaps later.”

Sheriff Garrett checked his watch. “It’s after eight now. There’s no moon tonight. If he’s out there, he’ll be stumbling around in the dark.”

“I’m worried,” I admitted. “I went camping with him a couple of nights ago. He’s…”

“Not very skilled when it comes to anything outdoors,” Sheriff Garrett finished for me. “We know. Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

“Of course we will,” came a voice we all knew, as Aunt Bea stepped under the floodlights like she was taking up position under her spotlight. “That poor cherub is a sitting duck out there, which is why I’ve come dressed for survival!”

With a catwalk twirl she flaunted her zebra-print dress, thigh-high black leather boots that gleamed under the floodlights, and a matching black-and-white striped turban with a headlamp fixed to it.

“You’re dressed like… a zebra?” Sheriff Garrett asked.

“Now that’s why you’re the law in this town, your deductive skills are second-to-none.

And although you might be asking why I’m dressed thus, the answer is simple.

Zebras wear stripes because the moving pattern confuses their predators.

When a herd runs at the first sign of danger, the motion has a dazzling effect.

Hence the reason why a group of zebras is called a ‘dazzle of zebras.’ If I encounter any predators out there, I shall move in a dazzle—” She moved quickly back and forth to demonstrate.

“And escape with all the grace God intended.”

Sheriff Garrett stared for a beat, then handed her a flashlight. “Just try not to dazzle yourself into a ravine.”

Moments later, four more men I hadn’t met yet hurried toward the ever-growing group.

“We came as fast as we could,” one said.

“Any news yet?”

Harry shook his head. “We’re just getting organized for the search.” He realized I didn’t know the men and introduced me. “Cody, this is Mitch and Gage, and Clarry and River.”

I waved an anxious hello, when Clarry gave a sad whimper.

River wrapped his colossal arm around him. “It’s okay, babe. I know you’re scared for Brooks, but he’s gonna be fine.”

“I think I’m going to name an ice cream in his honor,” Clarry said, sniffing back tears. “I’ll call it Pogo-Cocoa-Where-Did-You-Go-Go.”

Moments later I saw Bud and another man arrive.

“What the hell is Brooks thinking?” Bud said, his friendly smile now a panicked frown. He realized I hadn’t met the man with him and said, “Cody, this is my boyfriend, Pascal. Pascal, this is Cody.”

“Ah, the Australian. I hear you want to change the name of the world-famous croissant to a ‘buttered boomerang!’ Blasphéme! ”

“Oh, that wasn’t my idea. That was—”

“We’re here! Present! The Larsons are reporting for duty! Even cousin Connie’s here.”

As if on cue, Ronnie and Lonnie came hurrying toward the group, followed by a blonde woman in her thirties—cousin Connie, I assumed—wearing flared jeans and a tie-dyed sweater.

Ronnie and Lonnie were wearing matching reflective vests like emergencies were part of their everyday life.

“We’ve come with positive vibes,” Lonnie announced. “And the hope that Brooks hasn’t been abducted by a serial killer who plans to use his skin as a body suit. Isn’t that right, cousin Connie?”

“Absolutely.” Connie had already sidled up beside Benji.

“If we use our combined energy fields and allow our auras to merge, our collective powers of positive thought will guide Brooks home safely.” She turned to Benji and grinned.

“Whaddaya say, cuz? You ready to merge auras or what?” She then gave him a wink and a good slap on the ass. “Namaste, babe.”

Benji rolled his eyes. “Connie. Please don’t start.”

Bastian squeezed the tension out of Benji’s neck. “Let her get it out of her system. It’s like the weather. It’ll pass.”

Connie side-stepped up to Bastian, squeezing a bicep approvingly. “Don’t be so sure, cuz-in-law. I’ll be channeling your frequency next. I can practically feel your chakra moving already.”

Like a teacher trying to settle an unruly classroom, Sheriff Garrett clapped his hands. “Alright people, can I please have your attention. As far as we know, Brooks left the store sometime before five p.m. That means he’s been in the woods for at least four—”

Suddenly the sound of a whistle split the air.