Maggie he remembered had been conscientious to a fault. Surely her basic nature hadn’t changed that much.
Flint parked in an open spot on his side of the highway so he wouldn’t have to make a U-turn and left his hazard lights on as a warning to passing drivers.
Traffic was sparse. He jogged across all four lanes in seconds. Several civilian motorists had stopped and were pointing to the wreck. A uniformed police officer at the base of the incline cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted, “No sign of the driver.”
Flint’s heart beat hard and fast. If Maggie wasn’t there, where was she? Had she been kidnapped? No. That idea was too far-fetched. But why leave her truck? Nothing made sense.
He stepped off the outer berm, slipping and sliding his way to the bottom. Plenty of others had obviously been down there, because the vegetation was trampled. What if their carelessness had destroyed evidence that would lead to finding her?
Pulling the flashlight off his utility belt, he played the beam over the scene.
Someone touched his arm. “Simmer down,” a deputy said. “As soon as the sheriff gets organized, we’ll form a search party. We’ll find her.”
“What about her dog? Has anybody seen a big dog that looks like a wolf? They’re usually together.”
The officer radioed to the top of the embankment, “Any of you guys see Maggie’s dog?”
Flint felt like a fool. They all knew her and Wolfie and probably cared more than he did. She was one of their own. So why was the urge to track her down so strong in him?
He walked away, playing his light over the ground as he went. Except for the trampled area around the truck, there was no sign of her. Still, he refused to give up. The minute a search party formed, he’d join it, whether anybody liked it or not. He was going to help hunt for her, period. He was...
The beam of his light reflected off drops of rain clinging to the barbed wire. The whole fence glistened, except for one narrow place on the bottom strand! Flint’s breath caught. If nobody else had knocked off the water, there was a chance that Maggie and her dog had done so in passing. Hopefully, they were the only two.
He waved his light like a beacon and shouted, “Over here! I think she went through here.”
Nobody paid attention. He tried again. A few bystanders waved back and continued to talk among themselves, but other than that, he was ignored. Delaying only long enough to shout at the closest officer, “Tell Sheriff Allgood that I think the victim went through the pasture fence just south of here,” Flint went into action.
Once he got through the fence, it was harder to tell which way Maggie and Wolfie had gone. The pasture was already springing back. That slowed his progress. Bent grass, broken stems and an occasional crushed weed were all he had to go by.
The faint path turned so abruptly Flint almost missed the clues. It looked as though Maggie was headed for the woods where her passing would leave no crushed grass.
That should make it harder for him to track her. Fortunately, it would do the same for whoever she was fleeing from—unless there was more than one person after her and they could fan out to cover a wider area.
Picking up his pace, Flint prayed he’d reach Maggie before anyone else did. Before it was too late.
Being born and raised in the country gave Maggie an advantage. Not knowing exactly where she was took much of it away. Most Ozark homes and farms weren’t located too far apart, but there were also untouched acres of forest that had claimed canyons, and any other land too rocky for pasture or crops.
Spent and discouraged, Maggie sat on a protruding shelf of shale while she caught her breath. Moonlight came and went as wind from the earlier storm pushed lingering clouds across the sky. Sheet lightning flashed in the distance, providing a snapshot view of her surroundings.
She closed her eyes and folded her hands to pray, but only chaotic thoughts resulted. They darted madly through her mind like tiny fish in the shallows when a shadow fell over the water. Thoughts of rescue kept recurring. So did divine guidance. And—Flint?
Maggie’s eyes popped open. “No. Not Flint. Anybody but him.” Surely God could send someone else to save her.
The soft sound of her voice drew the weary dog and she draped an arm across his shoulders the way she would have a human friend. “Yes, Wolfie, I have you, don’t I? And if I was sure you wouldn’t stop to chase rabbits all the way home, I’d let you lead me.”
She sighed. “We couldn’t stay with the truck. But I kind of wish I’d aimed for the lights of farmhouses along the highway instead of following you into the wilderness.”
He slurped her cheek and ear.
“Yeah, well, maybe your path was best, but now what?”
The dog stiffened as if in reply. His nose twitched and he lifted it to face the breeze, then raised his hackles.
Maggie tensed. Listened. Held her breath until her body forced her to exhale. What she had thought was the sound of her panting dog was actually farther away, in the direction she believed they had come. It wasn’t loud. And it faded from time to time, but it was definitely there.
She stood slowly, dismayed by a wave of dizziness. Pushing herself to the edge of her endurance was one thing, but this consequence was unexpected. How could she run when she could hardly keep her balance? And what if she fainted?
“I have never fainted in my life and I’m not going to start now,” Maggie insisted in a whisper. Wolfie wagged his bushy tail.
Demanding that her body comply, she turned to start up the slope behind them. The third step dropped her against the trunk of an enormous oak and there she stayed while bright flashes of color danced at the edges of her vision and the forest seemed to vibrate. This was not good.
Beside her, Wolfie began to growl.
Maggie followed his line of sight, seeing nothing but drifting, shimmering, moonlit shadows. Clearly, she was not going any farther, so what could she use as a defensive weapon?
A nearby deadfall caught her eye. She managed to break a portion of a loose, rotting limb from the fallen tree. It wasn’t much of a club, but at least it wasn’t too heavy to wield. She’d played baseball as a child. It was time for a little batting practice. Even if she only got one swing, it was better than just standing there.
“Wolfie, heel,” Maggie ordered quietly. “Down. Stay.”
Resting the section of limb on her shoulder, she propped herself behind the massive oak and waited.
A twig snapped. Wolfie started to rise, but the flat of Maggie’s hand in front of his nose stopped him. It wouldn’t be long now. Truth to tell, she was looking forward to clocking the guy who had run her off the road.
She tensed. The dog was quivering beside her, as ready as she was. Another cracking sound. Heavy breathing. Almost there!
Fight-or-flight emotions gave her a needed jolt of energy. She poised and mustered her strength, waiting for just the right
