Hannah Alexander - A Killing Frost

She shivered. All the chaos of the day was catching up with her. She thought about the dogs that were supposed to arrive to help search for Doriann. Had they been brought in yet?

She took another bite of the food, washed it down with milk, then got up and covered the casserole. She would wait until it cooled further before replacing it in the fridge.

Overshadowing everything was the memory of Tyrell’s angry voice. Regret filled her. Hunger abandoned her.

She should have told him long ago about her part in Amy’s death, but to have told him today of all days, with everything else hitting him, was the wrong timing. If he had suspected the kind of bomb she’d drop on him, he might not have pressed so hard for answers.

“Oh, Tyrell, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She sank back down at the table and buried her face in her hands.

“I’m sorry.”

Tyrell paced across the living-room floor, listening to the squeak in one particular floorboard every seventh step. It was a large living room, in a large house, built by Tyrell’s grandfather, Joseph Mercer, with the intention of filling its rooms with a large family.

Now it was empty and dark, lacking the comfort Tyrell had always found here.

He stepped to the wall of windows he and Daniel had helped Dad install twenty years ago. They overlooked the hillside of vines. The thermometer read forty degrees now, and though it was warmer than it had been, it was still too cold for a child to be out there alone.

He heard a creak of floorboards behind him. He stiffened. Before he could react, the lights came on. Daniel stood in the middle of the room, hair sticking out, wearing jeans with no shirt.

“Went upstairs to read. Must’ve fallen asleep,” Daniel said.

“I didn’t know you were here.”

“I parked in the garage. I was just going to rest a few minutes, then change and check the temperature.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re back.”

“Jama and I were warned away twice by the Feds, threatened with arrest…We figured that was pushing it.”

“Where’s Jama?”

“Zelda Benedict’s for the night.” Tyrell heard the stiffness in his voice.

Daniel’s gaze sharpened, and Tyrell knew he was about to ask questions.

The house phone rang and he answered eagerly, glancing at the caller ID. “Renee? Any news?”

“I thought you might have some for me.” Her voice, typically vibrant with life and the type-A personality that drove her, had an unfamiliar edge to it. “I was clued in that you and Jama were ousted from the search.”

“We avoided jail, obviously.”

“Of course. Is Jama at the house with you?”

“Why?” Why, all of a sudden, was everybody so interested in Jama? He knew immediately that his recent thoughts colored his voice.

A pause.

He glanced at Daniel, saw the concern. “I’m sorry, Renee. It’s been a long night.”

“Getting longer.” Still that edge.

“Something’s up?”

“The agents found tracks all through the woods. They heard some kind of altercation a little over an hour ago, animal and human, probably a dog. Screaming. Maybe Doriann. Shouting. Maybe the kidnappers. There were signs of a struggle near a small boat dock owned by a local-”

“Wait. What time did they hear the commotion?” He recalled the sound he had heard as he and Jama returned to the Durango.

“It was about an hour and a half ago, maybe two. I’m not getting minute-by-minute reports. Why do you ask?”

Tyrell closed his eyes. “Jama and I might have heard the same commotion. We thought it was coyotes.”

“Oh, Tyrell,” Renee whispered.

Vexed that they might have been so close to Doriann and missed the chance to reach her, he stood and walked to the windows, glaring out into the darkness, toward the security lights of River Dance that did not make him feel secure.

“What are the Feds doing now? What else have they found?” he asked. “Are they any closer to finding these monsters?”

“They started interviewing local landowners and discovered there’s a rowboat missing. Then they went farther downriver and discovered that there was also a fishing boat missing. There were drops of blood on the dock.”

“No sign of anyone in the forest?”

“None yet.”

“We know Doriann escaped them at one time. We could tell by the tracks we followed. Then, for some reason, she turned and followed her abductors.” Now it sounded as if she had either been caught again, or she was being followed. And now she and her captors could be headed downriver, out of the vicinity. They could be anywhere.

“The hunt has expanded,” Renee said. “Several law enforcement units have been called in.”

That didn’t comfort Tyrell. Doriann could be at the center of a maelstrom of danger.

“Where are you getting all this information?” he asked. “I know the federal agents aren’t giving you a play-by-play.”

“Remember my friend from school, Mona Johnson? She married Tim Holloway, who’s been called to help secure the perimeter. He got the news from the sheriff, then told Mona, and she’s called me three times with updates.”

“Good. Keep me informed, and don’t go telling anyone else about Tim’s involvement, or he’ll be in trouble. Want to talk to Daniel? He’s here.”

“First, I want to make sure you call Jama. She needs to know.”

“Not tonight. She’s probably asleep.”

“She’ll want to know, Tyrell. I can’t believe you’re trying to keep her out of the loop. I think-”

“Here’s Daniel,” Tyrell said, then swiftly handed the cordless phone to his brother, and left. He took his sandwich and the family Bible to his apartment. Daniel was at the house to answer the phones. He would get Tyrell if there was any news. And Tyrell had his cell.

Ironic that he was being forced to wait and pray and contemplate at a time when he most needed to be doing something. He knew that the disasters of the day weren’t happening simply to teach him how to do what had always been difficult for him-to wait. But the lesson was being learned, nonetheless.

He sat at the window overlooking River Dance. From here he would be able to see the top of the clinic roof during the winter months when the deciduous trees were bare. He could see the Show-Me River flowing into the Missouri during daylight, and if he opened his window, he knew he would be able to hear it.

He turned on the lamp beside his chair and opened the Bible. He selected an ink pen from the collection he kept in a coffee mug. It was a red pen. Appropriate, he thought. Tonight, he felt as if his own blood had been spilt.

He read for a while, then prayed, then read some more, with red pen in hand. He kept going as his eyelids grew heavy. He shared with God his agony over Doriann’s abduction, his worry over his father, his pain and disillusionment with Jama. His anger.

Oh, the romance that had carried him these past few months, when he’d craved time with Jama. Since she was a resident in Springfield, only thirty minutes away from where he worked, they’d seen each other often. How right it had felt, and how sure he’d become that she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

That romantic, idyllic bubble had burst tonight, leaving a clearer view of the woman he’d thought he knew so well.

Driven to his knees, he felt his heart cry out to God as never before, and as he prayed, his past mistakes came to his mind-his outspoken judgment of Mark and Heather’s parenting skills. How much blame did they lay on themselves because of his words?

He thought of the judgment Jama must have heard in his voice earlier tonight when he scolded her about Utah, about the times through his life that his words-his thoughtless attitude of judgment-had wounded others. And worse, some of his final words to Jama tonight had been harsh and wounding.