Nicholas Sparks - The Rescue

Denise, however, didn’t make the connection as she squinted at the lady standing before her. Her thoughts were still hazy. Nurse? No-not dressed right. The police? No, too old. But her face seemed familiar somehow. . . .

“Do I know you?” she finally croaked out.

Judy, finally gathering her senses, started toward the bed. She spoke softly.

“Sort of. I’ve seen you in the library before. I work there.”

Denise’s eyes were half-open. The library? The room began to spin again.

“What are you doing here?” Her words came out slurred, the sounds running together.

What, indeed? Judy couldn’t help but think.

She adjusted her purse strap nervously. “I heard about your son getting lost. My son is one of the ones out there looking for him right now.”

As she answered, Denise’s eyes flickered with a mixture of hope and fear, and her expression seemed to clear. She broke in with a question, but this time the words came out more lucidly than before.

“Have you heard anything?”

The question was sudden, but Judy realized that she should have expected it. Why else would she have come to see her?

Judy shook her head. “No, nothing. I’m sorry.”

Denise pressed her lips together, staying silent. She seemed to be evaluating the answer before finally turning away.

“I’d like to be alone,” Denise said.

Still uncertain of what to do-Why on earth did I come? She doesn’t even know me-Judy said the only thing she herself would have wanted to hear, the only thing she could think to say.

“They’ll find him, Denise.”

At first Judy didn’t think that Denise had heard her, but then she saw Denise’s jaw quiver, followed by a welling of tears in her eyes. Denise made no sound at all. She seemed to be holding back her emotions as if she didn’t want anyone to see her this way, and that somehow made it worse. Though she didn’t know what Denise would do, Judy acted on motherly impulse and moved closer, pausing briefly beside the bed before finally sitting. Denise didn’t seem to notice. Judy watched her in silence.

What was I thinking? That I could help? What on earth can I do? Maybe I shouldn’t have come. . . . She doesn’t need me here. If she asks me to go again, I’ll go. . . .

Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice so low that Judy could barely hear it.

“But what if they don’t?”

Judy reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “They will.”

Denise drew a long, uneven breath, as if trying to draw strength from some hidden reserve. She slowly turned her head and faced Judy with red, swollen eyes. “I don’t even know if they’re still looking for him. . . .”

Up close, Judy flashed upon the resemblance between Denise and her mother-or rather, how her mother used to look. They could have been sisters, and she wondered why she hadn’t made the connection at the library. But that thought was quickly replaced as Denise’s words sank in. Unsure if she had heard correctly, Judy furrowed her brow.

“What do you mean? Do you mean to say that no one’s kept you informed of what’s happening out there?”

Even though Denise was looking at her, she seemed very far away, lost in a kind of listless daze.

“I haven’t heard a thing since I was put in the ambulance.”

“Nothing?” she finally cried, shocked that they had neglected to keep her informed.

Denise shook her head.

At once Judy glanced around for the phone and stood up, her confidence rising with the knowledge that there was something she could do. This must have been the reason she’d felt the urge to come. Not telling the mother? Completely unacceptable. Not only that, but . . . cruel. Inadvertent, to be sure, but cruel nonetheless.

Judy sat in the chair beside the small table in the corner of the room and picked up the handset. After dialing quickly, she reached the police department in Edenton. Denise’s eyes widened when she realized what Judy was doing.

“This is Judy McAden, and I’m with Denise Holton at the hospital. I was calling to find out what’s going on out there. . . . No . . . no . . . I’m sure it’s very busy, but I need to talk to Mike Harris. . . . Well, tell him to pick up. Tell him Judy’s on the line. It’s important.”

She put her hand over the receiver and spoke to Denise.

“I’ve known Mike for years-he’s the captain. Maybe he’ll know something.”

There was a click, and she heard the other end pick up again.

“Hey, Mike. . . . No, I’m fine, but that’s not why I called. I’m here with Denise Holton, the one whose boy’s in the swamp. I’m at the hospital, and it seems that no one’s told her what’s happening out there. . . . I know it’s a zoo, but she needs to know what’s going on. . . . I see . . . uh-huh . . . oh, okay, thanks.”

After hanging up, she shook her head and spoke to Denise while dialing a new number. “He hasn’t heard anything, but then his men aren’t conducting the search because it’s outside the county lines. Let me try the fire station.”

Again she went through the preliminaries before reaching someone in charge. Then, after a minute or so, her tone becoming that of a lecturing mother: “I see . . . well, can you radio someone at the scene? I’ve got a mother here who has a right to know what’s happening, and I can’t believe you haven’t kept her informed. How would you like it if it was Linda here and Tommy was the one who was lost? . . . I don’t care how busy it is. There’s no excuse for it. I simply can’t believe you overlooked something like that. . . . No, I’d rather not call back. Why don’t I hold while you radio in. . . . Joe, she needs to know now. She hasn’t heard a thing for hours now. . . . All right, then. . . .”

Looking at Denise: “I’m holding now. He’s calling over there with the radio. We’ll know in just a couple of minutes. How’re you holding up?”

Denise smiled for the first time in hours. “Thank you,” she said weakly.

A minute passed, then another, before Judy spoke again. “Yes, I’m still here. . . .” Judy was silent as she listened to the report, and despite everything, Denise found herself growing hopeful. Maybe . . . please . . . She watched Judy for any outward signs of emotion. As the silence continued, Judy’s mouth formed a straight line. She finally spoke into the handset. “Oh, I see. . . . Thanks, Joe. Call here if you find out anything, anything at all. . . . Yes, the hospital in Elizabeth City. And we’ll check back in a little while.”

As she watched, Denise felt a lump rise in her throat as her nausea returned.

Kyle was still out there.

Judy hung up the phone and went to the bed again. “They haven’t found him yet, but they’re still out there. A bunch of people from the town showed up, so there are more people than there were before. The weather’s cleared up some, and they think Kyle was moving to the southeast. They went that way about an hour ago.”

Denise barely heard her.

It was coming up on 1:30 A.M.

The temperature-originally in the sixties-was nearing forty degrees now, and they’d been moving as a group for over an hour. A cold northern wind was pushing the temperature down quickly, and the searchers began to realize that if they hoped to find the little boy alive, they needed to find him in the next couple of hours.

They’d now reached an area of the swamp that was a little less dense, where the trees grew farther apart and the vines and bushes didn’t scrape against them continually. Here they were able to search more quickly, and Taylor could see three men-or rather their flashlights-in each direction. Nothing was being overlooked.

Taylor had hunted in this part of the swamp before. Because the ground was elevated slightly, it was usually dry, and deer flocked to the area. A half mile or so ahead, the elevation dropped again to below the water tables, and they would come to an area of the swamp known to hunters as Duck Shot. During the season men could be found in the dozens of duck blinds that lined the area. The water there was a few feet deep year-round, and the hunting was always good.