Page 87 of Older

The sun would be setting soon, eclipsing the daylight.

Reed jogged back over to me as we met in the middle of the park, hopelessness squeezing my lungs. “She’s not here,” I told him.

His eyes dimmed as he led me back over to the truck. “So we’ll keep looking.”

We drove around for almost an hour.

Stopping, searching, getting back in, driving some more. We were frozen to the bone, soaking wet, and defeated. All I could think about was the look on Tara’s face, the horror in Whitney’ eyes, when I told them I’d lost their dog.

I had one goddamn job.

Take care of Ladybug.

And I’d failed.

She could be anywhere—lying broken on the side of the road, having been hit by a car. Lost in a wooded area, seeking shelter from the snow. She could have been rescued by a neighbor or a good Samaritan, but the possibilities were endless, and given the weather conditions…grim.

As the sky darkened to charcoal-gray, so did my spirits. I plucked off my gloves and hat and tossed them on my lap, clawing my fingers through my tangled hair and trying in vain to avoid a breakdown. We were closer to Reed’s apartment now, a few miles from the Stephens’ residence, and the snow was still accumulating. It wasn’t safe to be on the road.

An anguished whimper broke free.

“Halley…” Reed sat beside me with his fingers tightly coiled around the wheel, his eyes shared between me and the windshield. “Comet, hey. It’ll be all right.”

“I failed them,” I murmured, voice strangled. “I lost their dog. After all they’ve done for me, I lost one of their family members.”

He was quiet for a beat. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault. I should have checked the fence before letting her out.”

“Accidents happen.”

I shook my head, rejecting his words, and fixed my attention to the window as snow continued to rain down in sideways slants.

“I’m going to pull over for a sec,” he told me after a few tense beats. “I see animal prints in the snow. Could be a fox or something, but it’s worth a look.”

As the truck rolled to a slow stop, I followed his gaze and spotted the trail of prints, roughly the size of a dog or coyote, that were leading toward a steep ravine. “I’ll go with you.”

He kept the keys in the ignition and pushed the gear shift lever into Park. “No. Wait here.”

Like hell.

“Reed—”

The door slammed shut. My throat fizzed with nervous heat as I watched him stalk along the side of the empty road, illuminated by a lone streetlamp and the final streaks of daylight.

My feet tapped in parallel time, teeth clicking together.

His outline faded into the blizzard, out of sight.

Nope. I couldn’t just stay put—this was my fault.

Heaving in a deep breath, I jumped out of the truck and raced toward where he’d evaporated into the fog as I followed the prints. I caught up to him just as he veered toward a hill rimmed by a dense tree line, my boots slipping and sliding.

He did a double-take when he felt me approaching on his right. “What the fuck?” he blared over the hissing wind. “Why don’t you listen?”

My eyes narrowed to slits, part defenses, part snow compromising my vision.

“Go back to the truck. I’m handling it.” He stomped ahead.