Three Boys and a Baby. Laura Marie Altom

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      “THEY FOUND WHAT?” Jackson liked to think he’d heard it all, but Ella’s story was a bit far-fetched.

      She explained about the boys having stumbled across the abandoned infant in the park. About the note attached to her basket. Through it all, he held his breath, waiting for the joke’s punch line. Only, when Ella ended, her gray eyes pooling upon telling him all three boys and the baby were missing, he wasn’t laughing.

      In his line of work, tears were the norm, yet something about the way Ella looked near crying, but somehow keeping it together, affected him more than if she’d sobbed.

      His ex had never cried.

      Even on the day their divorce had been finalized, she’d remained coolly professional, as if to her, their marriage had been nothing more than a losing day in court. Just once, he’d wanted Julie to acknowledge what she’d thrown away. To have maybe at least come to him, cluing him in on the fact that there’d even been a problem. It’d hurt so damned bad knowing he couldn’t save their marriage when saving was what he did. He rescued little kids and kittens and bedridden elderly. He didn’t stand by, letting their lives end, any more than he gave up on vows he’d made before God and family. Julie was the only quitter in his house.

      Frustrated anew by the uncomfortable position he found himself in, Jackson’s voice was more gruff than it should’ve been when he asked, “Have you talked with Hank?”

      Hank was a longtime friend and the town’s sheriff.

      “No,” Ella said, looking away, then back. Wiping her eyes so he wouldn’t see how upset she truly was? “Hoping the boys were here, I wanted to check with you first.”

      “Sure,” he said, already on his way to the kitchen phone.

      Five minutes later, Jackson had shared all pertinent information, and Hank had set official wheels in motion.

      “Three boys and a baby,” he said to Ella, who was again looking near tears. “They can’t have gone far. We’ll find them in under thirty minutes.”

      “I know.” Her words were confident. Her thin voice scared.

      What was it with women? Why couldn’t they just say what they felt? Why couldn’t she admit she was upset and ask for his help?

      Maybe the better question was, what was it about her heartbreakingly concerned expression that made him care?

      Chapter Two

      Please, God, let Hank find them all safe.

      Ella had said the prayer hundreds of times during the endless night, but now, with the early-morning sun filling the boys’ second-story bedroom, why did her throat ache worse than ever? Why, when Hank had told her to stay put, had she desperately wanted to help with the search?

      The living room and kitchen teemed with concerned friends and family. Tables were laden with cold cuts, cookies and cake, as if food could somehow fill the gnawing emptiness that had consumed her since Jackson’s promised thirty minutes had faded into ten hours without her boys.

      As a doctor, she’d trained for all sorts of emergencies. Broken arms and legs she could handle, but this not knowing just might be the end of her.

      A knock sounded on the boys’ open door. “Your friend Claire said I’d find you up here.”

      “Jackson.”

      Hugging Owen’s favorite stuffed tiger, she glanced the man’s way. “Any sign of them?”

      “A dirty diaper and a few granola-bar wrappers out by the old Hampstead place. Looks as if they may have camped there for the night, but no sign of them now.”

      She nodded, willing down the bile rising in her throat. “What’s next?”

      “A couple of hours ago, we called in help from Buckhorn County. About fifty National Guardsmen have also joined the search. My…um…ex has connections. She called in favors. It won’t be long till we bring them home.”

      “I know,” Ella said, adding a new wish to her litany of prayers—that she wouldn’t break down now. Not in front of this virtual stranger.

      “We’ve got tracking dogs. They’re good.”

      I miss my boys. Please, God, bring them home safe.

      Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

      “I’m thinking thirty more minutes is all it’s going to take. Tops.”

      “Y-you said that last time.” Her eyes stung.

      “Obviously, I underestimated, but this time—”

      “This time, what?” she all but shrieked. “Do you have a crystal ball? Have you also called in a psych—” A sob racked her body. Tears flowed and she looked away, but then Jackson pulled her against him, wrapping her in his strength. As if she’d known him a lifetime, because exhaustion and terror and a sense of unbearable helplessness had taken a toll, she clung to him. “I—I’m so afraid,” she cried. “W-what if you don’t find them? Or, w-worse—”

      “Shh…” He held her tightly, cupping his hand to the back СКАЧАТЬ