Search and Rescue (3 page)

“She
was
here,” I told him. “Could she have fallen from the cliff ?”

“There are no footprints or any sign that anyone has been over there.”

I peered at the ground, hoping to find a footprint to show him. “Check this out,” I said, following the path. The forest floor was swept from the viewpoint all the way back to the road. “Looks like something heavy was dragged out of here,” I told Matt.

I shuddered at the thought. Did someone—or something—drag Amber away? “You don't think a bear got her, do you?” I asked.

“First you thought a kidnapper took Amber, now a bear.” Matt shook his head. “You're really fishing for news, aren't you? Isn't the story of a lost girl enough?”

“It's not like that,” I said. “I don't care about the news story. I just want to find Amber. I
know
she was here.”

I hunted for clues, something to make Matt believe me. There was nothing. Only those drag marks through the pine needles. “She must have been moved,” I said. “What if it wasn't a bear? What if a person dragged her away?”

“Your kidnapper?” Matt raised an eyebrow like he thought I was a fool.

“Yes!” I said. “There must be someone else involved.” I scanned the road. There were fresh tire tracks in the mud. “There
was
another vehicle here recently.”

“So a bunch of dumb kids came up here to party. They dragged their beer cooler back to their car. Mystery solved.”

I was nearly in tears, I was so frustrated. “I know there is more going on here,” I told him. “I
know
it.”

Matt put a hand on my shoulder. “Amber went for a walk and got lost. This is a huge forest. Even experienced hikers get lost here. We rescue them every year.”

“She's not simply lost.”

Matt held out both hands. “How do you know?”

I shook my head. “I can't tell you. I don't know how I know. I just
know
.”

Matt opened the door to his truck. “All right, that's enough,” he said. “We're leaving.”

He got in and slammed his door shut, leaving me outside. I searched one last time for a clue to offer him, but I didn't find anything. Finally, I got in the truck.

We drove back to the search-and-rescue camp in silence. Matt parked the truck by his command unit, the old bus. “I'm sorry,” I said. “I was so sure Amber was up there.”

Matt got out of the truck without saying a word.

“Can I hold the jacket one more time?” I called out to him. “Maybe I'll see more detail in my vision this time. Maybe I'll see where she was moved to.”

Matt turned to me. “Go home, Claire.” He shooed me away. “Or go have that date with Trevor.”

“I want to help.” I tottered after him in my silly heels. “You don't understand. I
need
to help.”

“There's nothing you can do.”

“Please,” I said. I took his arm, gripping it harder than I meant to. “I have to be here. I'm
supposed
to be here.”

Even as I said that, I knew how nutty I sounded. I had no idea where Amber was at that moment. I couldn't explain those visions. Still, the feeling I had was so powerful. I
knew
Amber would die that night if I didn't help find her.

Matt stared down at his arm until I removed my hand. “I want you out of my camp,” he told me. “Now.”

FIVE

A
fter I left the search-and-rescue camp, I went straight to my mom's house. I had to tell her about the vision I'd just had. Maybe she could help me figure out what to do. “Claire!” Mom said as she opened the door. “What a nice surprise.” Mom was sixty-something but still fit. Yoga was her thing. She made a living teaching classes in her living room. In her black T-shirt and yoga pants, she appeared a lot younger than she was.

She waved me into the kitchen. “Didn't you have a date tonight?” she asked.

“I never made it to the restaurant,” I said.

I swung my camera bag onto the kitchen table. Mom ran her business from here. This table was her desk. I shifted her laptop computer over a little and sat.

“You stood Trevor up
again
?” Mom asked. “For heaven's sake, Claire. He's the only man who's asked you out in a year. I do want grandchildren, you know.”

“I know, I know. Now I'm afraid to phone him.”

“You didn't let Trevor know you weren't coming?”

“No. I meant to, and then all this shit happened.” Mom eyed me primly. I was thirty-one, and she still gave me hell for swearing. “All this
stuff
happened,” I corrected myself.

“It's a wonder he didn't call
you
,” Mom said.

“Yeah,” I said, growing angry. “Why didn't Trevor call me?” I searched my camera bag for my phone to see if he had. Maybe in the confusion of the evening, I had simply missed his call. Then I realized I had left my cell plugged in and charging at home.

“Interesting,” Mom said.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You ‘forget' to call Trevor. You leave your phone at home so he can't call you. You clearly don't want Trevor to reach you.”

“I like Trevor,” I said.

“I'm just saying maybe there's a reason you stand him up so often.”

I pointed at the camera bag sitting on the table between us. “My job is the problem,” I said. “If I see news, I have to get the story. I'm simply busy, that's all.”

“Trevor is a volunteer firefighter, Claire. He runs his own car-repair shop.
He's
busy. Yet he always turns up for your dates.”

I thought for a moment. Mom was probably right. I did keep avoiding my dates with Trevor. But why? Trevor was good-looking, kind and a
firefighter
.

“So why didn't you get to your date with Trevor this time?” Mom asked. “What was the big news story?”

I told Mom about the gut feeling that led me to that burning car. Then I explained how I ended up at the search-and-rescue camp. I told her about my visions of Amber and my trip up the mountain with Matt. “I know what I saw in those visions was real,” I said. “I'm so sorry I didn't believe you when you told me about your visions.”

She patted my hand. “That's okay, dear. No one else believed me either. You have to experience the visions yourself to understand.”

“That's just the thing,” I said. “Matt doesn't believe me. Who will?” I cradled my head in my hands. “I know Amber will die if I don't find her. The question is, what do I do now?”

“You haven't eaten anything this evening, have you?”

“No,” I said.

“You can't think on an empty stomach. I'll make you something.”

I mulled over the events of the evening as she threw together a cheese sandwich. “The vision scared me,” I said.

“You feel like you're not in control of your own mind,” Mom said.

“Yes!”

“I know. You will get used to it, over time.”

“Why is this happening to me? Why now?”

Mom shrugged. “Who knows? Your grandmother had visions. So did your aunt May. All the women on my side of the family had the gift.”

“It doesn't feel like a gift,” I said. “I know it's selfish to think about it right now, but I'm afraid my reputation is ruined. Matt thinks I'm crazy. The whole town will hear about my visions now. Everyone will think I'm a flake.”

“Like me,” Mom said.

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to.” She handed me the sandwich. “In any case, I don't think you have to worry about your reputation. I knew Matt's father. He hated gossips. I suspect Matt is a lot like him. Matt has never told anyone about the visions I had.”

“He told me. He said he wouldn't take your calls anymore.”

“Well, he damn well should. I knew where that Evans boy ran off to last month. I knew where that awful man hid that little girl in 2011—well, at least before he moved her. I knew where that teenager drowned during the summer of 2012.”

“Matt didn't find the body where you said it would be.”

Mom crossed her arms. “I said I knew where she
drowned
, not where her body ended up, downriver.”

I pushed the sandwich away. I didn't feel like eating now. “Matt didn't believe you any of those times. He still doesn't.”

“People rarely do. You'll find you can't stop yourself from trying to help anyway. You'll feel driven to.”

“Like I do right now,” I said.

Mom patted my hand. “You need to go. You
must
find that girl.”

“I can't go back to the search-and-rescue camp. Matt won't listen. I'll only embarrass myself even more.”

“You can't let this go,” Mom said. “A girl's life is at stake.” She paused. “And you have a chance here to prove that neither of us is crazy.”

She was right. My mother's honor was also on the line, not just my own. If my vision helped me find Amber, maybe Matt and the rest of the town would take our visions seriously. But all of that didn't matter now. I just wanted to find Amber.

“I don't know what to do,” I said. “Matt kicked me out of the camp.”

“So don't go back there—at least, not right away.”

I shook my head. “I don't follow.”

“You said Amber's mom was at home. Stop in on her. Ask for a personal item that might trigger another vision. Choose something Amber wears a lot. That works best.”

I laughed. This all sounded so unlikely. Here I was, talking with my mom about how to spark a vision. “Any more tips?” I asked, making a joke of it.

Mom wasn't in a joking mood. “You can't force yourself to have a vision,” she told me. “You must be relaxed. Hold the personal item. Then breathe deeply and allow your mind to take you where you need to go.”

“You're asking me to meditate on the object?”

“Well, yes.”

“Helen will definitely think I'm crazy,” I said.

“Of course she will,” said Mom. “You'll just have to find a way to convince her you're not.”

SIX

A
mber's mom lived in the apartment above the bakery she owned. I rang the bell at the bottom of the stairs and waited. I rang again. Eventually, I heard slow footsteps coming down the stairs.

Helen opened the door, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Her face was tense with worry. She looked me over as if she wasn't sure what to make of me. I was still wearing the red miniskirt and high heels.

“I'm sorry to wake you, Mrs. Miller,” I said. “I've come about your daughter.”

Her face lit up with hope. “They found Amber?”

“No, I'm afraid not.”

Her shoulders fell. Then she grabbed my arm, panicked. “They didn't find her body, did they?”

I shook my head. “I'm not from Search and Rescue, Mrs. Miller.”

“I'm Helen,” she said. “Call me Helen.”

I extended my hand. “I'm Claire Abbott. I work for the
Black Lake Times
. We talked when you first opened your bakery.”

“Yes, of course. I remember you now.”

“May I come in?” I asked.

She started to close the door. “I can't talk about Amber right now. I just can't.”

“I'm not here to talk about Amber for a news story.”

She shook her head in confusion. “I don't understand.”

“I just want to help find her. May I see Amber's room? I need a personal item, something that belongs to her.”

Helen's voice rose in alarm. “You want to snoop around in my daughter's things?”

“No, I—”

“What do you want?” she cried. “Why are you here?”

“I had a vision,” I told her. “I knew where Amber was, at least at that moment. Matt and I went up to Little Mountain viewpoint to find her, but she was gone.”

Now Helen grew angry. “Why are you doing this to me? Go away!” She slammed the door in my face.

“Mrs. Miller,” I called. “I don't think Amber is simply lost. I think someone kidnapped her.”

I heard her footsteps pause partway up the stairs.

“She was wearing a charm bracelet,” I called through the door. “One of the charms was a little boat.”

I heard her step back down the stairs. She opened the door. “How could you possibly know that?” She hesitated, then opened the door wide. “Come in,” she said.

I followed her up the stairs and into the apartment, a loft. I could see the doors to the upstairs bedrooms from the open space below. The kitchen and living area were in one room with a very high ceiling. The place smelled of bread from the bakery below.

“You said you need a personal item,” she said.

“Yes, to trigger a vision.”

“You're some kind of psychic?” she asked.

“No. At least, I don't think so. I can't tell the future or anything. I just get these hunches. Earlier when I touched your daughter's jacket, I saw her. I knew she was at the Little Mountain viewpoint. But, like I said, when we got there she was gone.”

“How do you know she was really there in the first place?”

“I just know,” I said. “I saw her.”

“In your vision.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Look, I know how crazy this sounds,” I said. “But please let me try. I know I can help find your daughter. I just need to hold something that belongs to Amber.”

Helen nodded her head as she thought that over. Her face was pale with grief. “I'm desperate,” she said. “I'll try anything.” She ushered me to the stairs. “This way,” she said.

I followed her up to Amber's bedroom, a typical teenager's room. The walls were painted pink and purple. The same colors were on the bedding. Amber had left her jewelry, makeup and clothes spread all over.

“What do you need?” Helen asked.