Last Resort. Hannah Alexander

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      She pulled a mug from a cupboard near the sink. “You came to Springfield at six-thirty in the morning—which would mean you left Hideaway at five? Ick! All this just to see me?” Her movements slowed and she turned, frowning at him. “So what’s up?”

      “Your sister hasn’t called, has she?”

      A heightened alertness stiffened her shoulders, and her eyes narrowed with sudden apprehension. “Why would Jill call me this early in the morning? What’s happened?”

      “Carissa’s missing.”

      Noelle stared at him for a moment, slow to comprehend what he was saying.

      “She disappeared last night, somewhere between the house and the sawmill,” he continued gently. “We haven’t found her.”

      Nathan’s words seemed to strike her one by one, in a timed delay. Then her eyes widened, and she drew in a deep breath.

      Nathan reached for her as she paled.

      She caught his arm. “Oh, no,” she breathed. “What…what time last night?”

      “It was after dark, maybe around eight. She went down the hill to the sawmill to do some research for a school paper, and she was supposed to bring back a ledger for Cecil and Jill when she returned. She never returned.”

      Noelle’s grip on Nathan’s arm tightened. “I can’t believe…they must be out of their minds with worry!”

      “Cecil is blaming himself. Melva’s inconsolable.” Noelle had grown up in Cedar Hollow, down the lane from her cousin Cecil, and the two of them had been like brother and sister.

      “And my sister?” she asked.

      “Jill’s trying to reassure all of them, but it isn’t doing much good. Jill’s just as upset as the rest. I thought you’d want to help search.”

      Years ago, when Noelle was in the process of a painful divorce from her abusive husband, she had returned to Hideaway to stay with her sister, Jill. During those months, she’d spent a lot of time with Cecil’s daughter, Carissa, forming a bond that had kept them close ever since. Though Jill lived in town, and Cecil’s family in sparsely populated countryside outside Hideaway—a hollow in the hills strewn with cedars, Carissa had used every excuse to visit Hideaway and spend the night.

      Noelle released her grip on Nathan’s arm. “I’ll get dressed, and then I’ll follow you back. Put our coffee in a thermos, will you? There’s one in the cabinet above the stove.” She swung toward the hall, chatter gear kicking into high, as it always did when she attempted to tone down an emotional rush. “I’ll take my cell phone and arrange for extra help—”

      “I’d hoped you would ride with me,” Nathan said before she could disappear into her bedroom.

      She stopped and turned back, frowning. “Why? Then you’ll just have to drive me back home as soon as we find her.”

      As soon as we find her. He’d always loved her positive attitude. “We need to talk on the way down,” he said. “I thought you might know some places we haven’t looked. You seem to have a special empathy with Carissa.”

      “Can’t we do all that when we get there?”

      He hesitated. Why did she have to be so contrary?

      “Okay, fine, I’ll ride with you,” she said, changing her mind before he could speak, then pivoting again toward her bedroom. “Let’s just get there, okay?” She shut the door behind her.

      Carissa awoke to the throb of pain in her head, and the sound of her own voice—a soft whimper that she had intended, in her dream, to be a loud cry for help. Staring into the thick blackness, she couldn’t remember the dream, or even why she’d been afraid—until she reached out and felt the hard, damp slab of stone beneath her, and heard the drip-drip of water somewhere nearby.

      She barely suppressed another cry. Where was she?

      She squeezed her eyes shut tight against the pain in her head and tried to think. Somebody had chased her. She remembered running back to the sawmill, someone grabbing her. She remembered falling. Then nothing. Whoever was chasing her had brought her here. But where was here? If only it weren’t so dark…if only she’d found her flashlight in the mud puddle.

      Her eyes strained against the blackness. She blinked. Nothing. It was as if she were encircled by air as thick as tar. But if she could see nothing, then that meant nothing could see her. That thought brought some comfort. The darkness was her friend.

      Unfortunately, it seemed she had an enemy more scary than the darkness had ever been when she was a little kid.

      The drip of water caught her attention again. She turned toward the sound and gasped at the sudden burst of pain in the back of her head. Had her attacker knocked her out? Or had it been the fall?

      And where was he now? Or was it a he?

      Fear mingled with the pain. Carissa strained to see anything at all through the darkness, but there was no light. Her heartbeat pounded like a hammer on her skull. Her shallow breaths echoed against…what?

      She raised her hand and tentatively pressed it deeper and deeper into the thick blackness. About a foot away from her face she touched something hard, and jerked back. She rubbed her fingers together and felt wetness. Forced herself to reach out again, she felt damp, gritty rock, forming a wall beside her.

      A wall where?

      Would her attacker come back? Maybe he thought she was dead. Maybe she would be dead if she stayed here.

      She tried to sit up. Shafts of pain shot from her head all the way down her back, and she slumped sideways against the wall.

      The smell of fresh, damp earth was familiar, but the sound of dripping was different from the sounds of the woods where she’d been walking earlier. She touched the wall beside her once more, and again rubbed her fingers together. Gritty wetness. She heard the water dripping in the distance, with a hollow echo, as though the sound was contained.

      An underground cavern of some kind? She’d been in enough caves with Justin to recognize the feel and smell of one. How long had she been here? A few minutes? Hours? She had to get out.

      She leaned forward and braced herself against the wet wall, trying to breathe past the pain, the way Melva had told her to do when she’d broken her arm last year. She couldn’t let the pain stop her, or she might die here.

      Slowly, she stood up. Keeping her hand on the cave wall, she inched her way forward, stumbling in the dark over rocks and pebbles. Was this the right thing to do? What if she was going in the wrong direction?

      Pain spread from her head down her neck. She took shallow, quick breaths and thought about sunshine and safety.

      She shuffled forward along the uneven rock for a few more minutes, keeping her right hand extended in front of her while staying in contact with the cave wall. A wrong step could plunge her to her death if there was a drop-off. Justin had warned her never to get lost in a cave. Too late now.

      She felt along the surface of the mud-slick cavern floor with her toes until СКАЧАТЬ