later, she continued inching forward.
But was she going the right way? Should she wait a little longer, in case someone was coming for her? Dad and Melva and Jill would be looking for her soon. People got lost in these Ozark caves. Some died. Maybe she should wait a little longer….
How had her attacker been able to carry her this way? Maybe she should—
Stone clattered against stone somewhere behind her, and she froze, listening. She almost called out, then she realized that Dad or Melva or Justin or Jill would be shouting for her. There was a shuffle of footsteps, another clatter of rock. Carissa dropped to her knees, pressing her lips together to keep from crying out at the sudden pain.
She waited.
Silence.
She crawled forward, keeping her left hand on the wall to guide her as the soles of her shoes slid across the muddy earth. She could hear her own loud breathing.
A flash of light shot over the dripping rocks, then disappeared. She froze to watch and listen.
Was that a whisper? Or just a change in rhythm of the dripping water?
The light flashed again, and Carissa caught sight of a stalagmite just ahead, with a shelf of white rock beyond it. A hiding place. If she could reach that spot and—
Another whisper, then the sound of footsteps. Someone was coming, but any other sounds of an approach disappeared in the thumping roar inside Carissa’s skull, pain growing worse as her fear mounted.
She scrambled past the fat stalagmite. Digging her fingers into tiny crevices, she pulled herself up the stone wall. A narrow space behind a slab of limestone looked like a perfect fit for her as the light flashed through the cave again. She crawled into the space, then collapsed, gritting her teeth against the sharp stabbing in her skull.
She heard the sound of rocks scattering, then footsteps below her. Light flickered across the white limestone. She cringed. Could she be seen?
There was a loud gasp. “No!” The voice was a whisper. The searcher paused, as if looking around. Then: “Carissa? Carissa…” Like the hiss of a snake.
More footsteps, as if the searcher roamed through the cave. More whispers echoed from the walls of rock, like the sound of dry leaves blowing in the wind, but Carissa couldn’t make out the words. She held her breath, trembling with terror.
That whisper…something about it was familiar. But what? Or maybe it wasn’t the voice. Maybe it was something else. She sniffed the air. A scent?
Whoever was holding that light and filling the cavern with whispers knew her name.
The footsteps shuffled past her hiding place, and the light faded in the distance. Darkness and silence floated down over her again like a shield. At last, all was dark, and all was silent once more.
Chapter Three
Noelle fastened her seatbelt and settled the thermos beside her as Nathan pulled out of her driveway. She fished her cell phone out from her purse then punched in Cecil’s home number. When a stranger answered, she asked about the status of the search and was told Carissa had not yet been found.
“Thanks.” She disconnected. “Nothing yet.”
“We can try again in a little while.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Oh, Carissa, where are you?
Nathan’s warm hand touched her arm. “You okay?”
She nodded as tears stung behind her closed lids. “I’m fine. Carissa will be, too.”
His hand tightened. “You know that for sure?”
She opened her eyes and looked at him, hearing the odd note in his voice. “I’m praying it’s true.” She hadn’t stopped praying since Nathan had broken the news to her. Actually, she’d been praying before that.
He nodded and returned his attention to the road.
She knew this drive well, all the rolling hills, stark cliffs and misty valleys that stretched from Springfield to Branson on Highway 65, and then west on 76 to the Hideaway turnoff. These wooded Ozark hills kept their secrets well.
She closed her eyes, once again picturing her young cousin’s smiling face, her mischievous blue eyes and shoulder-length ringlets of soft brown hair. Oh, Carissa.
Tears smarted Noelle’s eyes again, and she straightened in her seat. “Tell me about the search. Where have they looked? How many are helping?”
“No one has rested,” Nathan said. “Not even Aunt Pearl. They’ve combed Cedar Hollow from end to end. The police, the forest rangers, even some local guardsmen were called to help.”
“So you’re saying they called out the guards before they called me?” That stung, and yet she knew this wasn’t the time to allow her personal feelings to become involved. She’d called the Coopers last night from the store, and left a message on their machine.
“Sorry.”
“How’s Aunt Pearl holding up?” Noelle asked. Her sixty-seven-year-old great-aunt Pearl lived on the original family homestead, about a quarter mile from Cecil’s home. Cecil and his family lived in the same sprawling two-story house in which he had grown up, halfway between Pearl’s house and the sawmill. Ordinarily, a sawmill would need to be situated closer to civilization, but Cooper’s had been in operation for over fifty years, with an excellent reputation. It never lacked for business.
“I’ve hardly seen anything of her,” Nathan said. “She’s obviously upset.”
“How’s her heart?”
“She’s strong as an ox, you know that. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover she’s covered the whole property on foot herself.”
“Surely there have been places the searchers have missed,” Noelle said. “Nobody could possibly cover all two thousand acres in one night. Who, besides the guards and police, is searching?”
“Thirty people from regional search-and-rescue squads, plus the Cooper sawmill employees. Dane Gideon came over with his ranch hands before I left this morning, and as the word’s spread, the churches got involved. Everyone has combed the woods as thoroughly as possible, then started over again. When I left this morning, it looked as if there were more people than trees in that forest.”
Noelle felt a rush of gratitude for the strong community that had always been a part of Hideaway, and the surrounding countryside, and once again tears filled her eyes. “And family?”
“Cecil stays out there all the time. He won’t eat, won’t even sit down for a short rest.”
Noelle could easily believe that. The paternal instinct ran strong in her cousin. “What about Melva?” she asked. Cecil’s second wife had always adored Carissa and Justin. Indeed, the family joked that Melva had married Cecil because she’d wanted to mother his children.
“She’s not holding up well at all,” Nathan said.
Noelle
