Page 105 of Worth the Fall

He walked away from me and addressed everyone in the barn before he started handing out flashlights and making sure radios were tuned to the right channel. I was only half listening, my mind trying to think of all the places that Clarabel could be. I came up empty.

“Let’s clear out,” a deep voice grumbled, and that was when I finally came to, my eyes meeting my dad’s, Patrick’s, and Brooklyn’s.

“Thomas”—Brooklyn’s hand was on my arm—“let’s go.”

I reached for her hand, craving her contact.

“Did anyone tell Matthew?” my dad asked.

I watched as Brooklyn let me go, reached for her phone, and quickly typed out a text. If she wasn’t my girlfriend already, I would have been pissed that she had Matthew’s phone number.

But she was mine.

And we were going to get through this together.

“Done,” she said.

“Thank you.” I pressed a kiss against her cheek and noticed that the tears had started falling again.

She was beating herself up for what had happened, and I hated that I couldn’t make her stop. Brooklyn wouldn’t be okay until we knew that Clarabel was.

“Of course,” she responded as she typed something else on her phone. “He’s on his way.”

There was no sense telling him not to come. Matthew would never listen, and I would never expect him to. This was too damn important.

“It’s going to be okay, baby. We’re going to be okay,” I said.

Brooklyn tried to give me a smile, but her lips didn’t seem to work.

“I need you. I can’t do this without you,” I said, hoping to break her out of the self-hating trance she was currently in. “This wasn’t your fault,” I pushed, but that only seemed to upset her more.

“Anyone seen Jasper?” Patrick asked as he whistled for his dog, but the dog didn’t come. “Jasper! Come here, boy!” he shouted into the barn, but there was no sign of the dog anywhere.

“We gotta go,” I said. “You can meet up with us if you want to look for him. Matthew’s on his way if you want to wait for him.”

“No. He’ll catch up to us,” Patrick said, and I wasn’t sure if he meant the dog or our brother. Either way, it didn’t matter.

The police were organized. And too damn slow. They walked methodically, their lights trained in front of them as they stepped in unison. I hated it. It was too careful. Too composed. I wanted them to be as chaotic as I felt, to run out in every direction until one of us stumbled upon her. Clara wouldn’t have been organized. She was most likely disoriented. It only made sense that we should be the same if we wanted to find her in time.

I looked down at my watch. “It’s almost been an hour,” I said.

Brooklyn nodded, like she’d been keeping track of the time as well.

We kept walking, my voice growing hoarse from shouting into the air, which was only getting colder since the sun had set.

“Stop!” Patrick reached for my sleeve and tugged on it. “Listen,” he shouted.

Everyone abruptly halted as the command tostopandlistenechoed through their individual radios. It was deathly silent, which was eerie as hell. We waited. I held my breath. I had no idea what Patrick thought he’d heard when, suddenly, the faint sound reached my ears at the exact same time it must have reached Brooklyn’s.

“Did you hear that?” she asked, her voice elevated.

A dog.

Barking.

“Jasper!” Patrick shouted as we started running in what was hopefully the right direction. The forest could be deceiving.

“Follow that barking,” the chief instructed. “Patrick, keep that dog talking.”