We're almost at the end. The WaT crew still don't belong to me - I'm just
taking them out for a walk.
Thanks to those still reading. Thanks even more to those reading and commenting! It makes writing way more fun. Sarah, I hope you continue to enjoy the story!
Shelter Chapter 8 By: Mariel
Minutes after an officer came into the restaurant and announced that the road was opening, Jack had paid for their meals. A few minutes more, and he and Samantha were in their car and on their way. Theirs had been the only vehicle to leave immediately. Others, who had also been waiting, had chosen to take the officer's advice and wait for the plow, which, he promised, would arrive in only another thirty minutes or so.
Samantha and Jack had not felt that luxury of time. The officer, understanding their sense of urgency, had phoned ahead to announce their travel intentions to the contingent of plows and police vehicles that had been trapped on the other side of the now removed transport truck.
As Samantha had noted while inside the restaurant, the wind had picked up, frothing the snow that had already fallen back into the air, and creating clouds of white impossible to see through. At other times, strong gusts sent rivers of snow flowing across the road in front of them, blurring where the asphalt sloped into ditches on each side, and making just staying on the road a chancy business. In only moments, the lights of the town behind them disappeared in a curtain of roiling white chaos. Alone in a world of furiously competing black and white, they forged ahead at what felt like an impossibly slow pace.
"How are we going to see the turnoff when we get there?" Samantha wondered, looking out into the storm.
"I'm watching our mileage," Jack replied. "It's not on our map, but Danny said the turnoff was five miles outside Smithton Falls. Hopefully, we'll see something. Of course, if the plow gets there ahead of us, it will have blocked the entrance with snow..." His voice petered off. Walking to the cabin might be their only choice. He frowned, trying to remember if Danny had mentioned how far off the road the cabin actually was.
* * *
"It feels as though we should be there already," Samantha commented a while later.
Jack grimaced. "We've barely gone two miles." He eased his foot from the gas pedal as another whiteout encircled them. "Damned stupid time of year for a snowstorm," he complained.
For want of anything better to say, Samantha noted, "It caught everyone by surprise." She looked out into the storm and wished it was summer. "They're starting to bill it as the storm of the decade," she added, quoting a weather announcer's comment she'd heard on the radio in the restaurant. She hesitated a moment, then decided to voice what she was sure they had both been wondering. "Should we be driving straight to the hospital instead of the cabin, to be there when Brenda Hood wakes up? If she knows where Emma is..." Her voice trailed off.
Jack waited a moment before replying. Samantha had a point, but something teased at the back of his mind, urging him towards the cabin. Finally, he said, "I don't think Emma was with her. I was told there was no sign of anyone walking away from the vehicle, and that there was no luggage in the car. When I spoke to the officer at the scene, he said that there were a few groceries in the trunk. What if after they arrived, Brenda discovered they needed a couple of things? What if she left Emma in the cabin and headed out for what she thought would be a quick trip to the nearest store - and then had the accident on the way back?"
Samantha sat in silence, pondering his words. "You think she'd have left Emma by herself?"
"Samantha, we don't even know if Emma is alive. But if she is, my guess is that she's used to being left alone. Brenda would know that, and she may have figured that a cabin in the middle of nowhere was probably a safer place to be left than her mother's apartment in the city. Or maybe Emma was asleep, and Brenda didn't want to wake her - or maybe she just didn't want to run the risk of someone seeing her, and left her behind, just to be safe."
Samantha nodded, and felt a small seed of hope begin to grow inside her. Perhaps Emma would be there, unharmed.
She clenched her hands. Or perhaps they would find nothing. Perhaps Brenda had nothing to do with Emma's disappearance and they were on a wild goose chase based on nothing but a bizarre set of coincidences. She shook her head at her thoughts. Deep down, she was convinced that Brenda had everything to do with it. And if the other disappearances were also her handiwork, they already knew she was very good at covering her tracks. Feeling her frustrations rise, she moved restlessly in her seat.
Her thoughts were getting her nowhere, so she sat back and forced herself to ease some of the tension in her body. Stifling a sigh, she consciously tried to think of other things and turned her gaze towards the storm. After a few moments of watching the hypnotic bluster outside, her mind slowly turned to thoughts of the man beside her. She turned her head slightly to watch him as he peered through the maelstrom that encircled their vehicle. His features highlighted by the glow of the dashboard lights, she eyed him critically. He was the most complex man she'd ever met. And the most caring. And he carried with him something that attracted her, something she had never found in anyone else. She couldn't pinpoint what it was, couldn't have even begun to describe it, but she knew it was there and that it called to her and she to it.
A tremor ran through her. She liked the silver hair that grew at his temples, and wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through his shortly cropped hair. Turning her attention to the hands gripping the steering wheel, she imagined what it would be like to have them against her skin. It would be good to feel him move against her, to feel his mouth against hers, to touch him in return. She stopped her thoughts abruptly, moving uncomfortably in response to the rush of sheer physical desire they elicited. Her soft sigh almost a moan, she turned again to gaze out at the storm.
* * *
After what seemed a very long time, Jack slowed the car almost to a halt. The plow had gone by them, heading to the town they had left behind. The driver, a shadowy figure atop a bright yellow monster, did not stop, but had slowed and waved solemnly as he passed. The open trail he left behind had allowed Jack to increase his speed, albeit while driving on the wrong side of the road. Fortunately, they had met no cars in the twenty minutes since then. That there were no police vehicles following had caused them a moment's concern, but they had decided that they may have been caught up with some other emergency - or, perhaps, they were waiting at the entrance of the road leading to the cabin.
"Do me a favour," Jack said into the silence. "Call Danny and see if he can tell us just how far in off the road the cabin is."
Samantha nodded and reached for her phone. A moment later, she turned to Jack and said, "He said it's hard to tell because the road isn't very straight, but he figures about a half a mile, or so. He says we'll know we're close when it starts to follow the river."
She leaned forward to peer out of the window. "Where will we leave the car if we do find the turnoff? I can't imagine being able to drive the car right up to the place."
"I'll shovel a spot if I have to," Jack said in a determined tone. "But I expect there'll be somewhere I can pull over. I just need to be out of the way when the plow comes back this way." He paused, squinting into the darkness. "You'd better start paying close attention. We should be coming up on it soon - it's on your side."
There hadn't been a turnoff or a driveway for almost a mile. Or at least not one they'd been able to make out in the darkness. A few minutes later, though, and Samantha leaned forward, her eyes squinting. Still peering forward, she reached over and touched his arm. "Jack," she said, and then pointed.
He looked closely and nodded. Between gusts of blowing snow, he could barely make out the entrance of a road. It had to be the one leading to the cabin. Noting the absence of police vehicles, he said without surprise, "I guess law enforcement got caught up with something else." The snow, he noted, was deep here, and he was careful not to slow down too much, for fear he'd get stuck. He turned the car into the one-laned side road and stopped almost immediately. There was no way they could continue forward - a dip in the dirt road just ahead made it obvious they'd be stuck before they went another ten yards. He looked over his shoulder. When the plow went by it would likely block them in. He shrugged. They'd worry about that when the time came.
"Looks like we're here," he commented. Flicking his flashlight on, he moved to open his door. Looking back at her, he asked, "You ready?"
Pulling on her gloves, Samantha hefted the weight of her flashlight in one hand and nodded.
* * * *
1:30 a.m. FORTY-ONE HOURS MISSING
A few yards' walk took them into the protection of the trees. The wind, less able to thrust against them because of that protection, seemed to ease, though they could hear its angry roar as it rushed through the branches above their heads. On the ground, the snow was deep, and their legs quickly grew heavy with the effort of trailing through it.
"Looks like there's been a car in here," Jack said, his voice raised slightly over the whistling tree branches. He pointed his flashlight, indicating where faint parallel indentations the width of a car could be seen in the track.
"They're almost filled in with snow again," Samantha said, almost shouting to be heard. She held the furred edges of her parka hood together more tightly around her face and hunched her shoulders against the cold.
Jack nodded, glad for the heavy winter FBI gear he'd kept stored in the car's trunk. Adjusting his thick leather gloves, he said, "It must have been hours ago. You wouldn't be able to get in here now without four wheel drive."
Samantha turned and peered into the darkness. "So if Emma's there, she's been there alone for a while."
Wordlessly, they moved forward.
* * * *
Fifteen minutes later, they came to a fork in the road. Unsure which direction to take, because blowing snow had covered any trace of where the car had gone, they chose the one they believed led to the river. Five minutes later, however, the road came to a dead end. No cabin. No river.
Retracing their steps was difficult. Though the trees acted as a windbreak of sorts, the wind and snow getting through was now directly in their faces, making their cheeks and foreheads sting with cold. Moving away from the river meant they were travelling uphill as well, the gentle incline feeling steeper with each snow-impeded step.
Her legs aching, Samantha stopped and turned away from the wind to catch her breath. Cold was beginning to seep through her boots, and her fingers, too, were cold. She thought with longing of the sheepskin mittens she'd not taken the time to look for when she'd returned to her apartment.
Noticing she'd stopped, Jack stepped back towards her, keeping himself between her and the storm. She turned to face him when he placed a hand on her arm. "I'm out of shape," she told him, her voice breathless.
Jack nodded, not trying to hide the fact that he, too, was winded. "You and me both," he said. He looked at her closely, and in a voice tinged with concern, he added, "You're getting cold, too." Looking down at their feet, which were almost knee deep in snow, he added, "The snow's deeper here because it's drifted downhill. It'll be better once we get back to where we turned off." Without thinking, he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It shouldn't be too much farther. Come on. The sooner we start, the sooner we get there." Hunching their shoulders against the cold, they turned and resumed their walking.
Finally reaching the spot where they had veered to their right, they took the alternate branch. Ten minutes later, they were relieved to see the faint glint of a window reflecting their flashlight beams.
Moving closer, the gray outline of the cabin began to loom in the darkness. When they were only yards away from it, Jack flashed his light around. Gentle indentations showed where a car had been parked in the lee of the structure. Another, single furrow led to the front door.
"Nothing fresh. And no lights on that I can see."
Refusing to believe that something bad could have happened to the smiling girl whose picture hung on the whiteboard back at work, Samantha said, "She may be asleep. Perhaps Brenda drugged her so that she wouldn't wake up before she got back."
Both moved towards the front door. Jack walked up the two steps leading to it and tried the door handle. It turned easily in his hand. Glancing at Samantha in surprise, he removed his gloves and unholstered his gun from beneath his jacket. Nodding once, he slowly opened the door and entered.
Gun raised and body tense, he stepped forward and shone his light around the interior, methodically noting what it revealed. Shadowy furniture, a stone fireplace with a white sheepskin rug on the wooden floor in front of it. On the mantle, pictures. Two lamps sitting on end tables on either side of a sofa. To his left, a kitchen table with four chairs, a kerosene lantern on top of it, a braided rug beneath it. Moving further into the room, he felt Samantha move inside behind him, closing the door as she did. "It's clear here. Check the back room," he said in a low voice, gesturing towards his right. He moved to his left in the direction of what he expected would be the kitchen.
Samantha opened the door leading off the living area carefully, then called to Jack. Leaving the small kitchen, he followed the sound of her voice and stopped when he came to stand beside her in the doorway. There, in the light of Samantha's flashlight, was Emma Matthews.
"Emma?" Samantha asked softly.
"Who are you? Where's Brenda?" the little girl asked, struggling to a sitting position in the double bed that dominated the small bedroom.
Jack and Samantha looked at each other in relief. Full of questions as she was, Emma was obviously unharmed.
Samantha turned on the ceiling light. "I'm Samantha Spade, and this is Jack Malone," she said, taking the lead as she moved slowly towards the bed Emma sat upon.
"Where's Brenda?" the little girl asked, blinking in the sudden brightness. "What time is it? She should be here by now. Why are you here?"
"We've come to take you home."
Samantha's words brought a hopeful look to Emma's face. "You're the ones? Am I going to live with you?"
Jack and Samantha shared a glance. Carefully, Samantha turned to Emma. "No, honey, we're going to take you home to your mother," she said in a soothing voice.
The change in Emma's demeanor was immediate. Frowning, she said angrily, "No! And you can't make me!"
Disconcerted at the child's response, Samantha said, "Emma, your mother is worried about you. You just disappeared. Brenda didn't have the right to bring you here. She didn't tell anyone where you were."
"She couldn't. If she did, no one would have let her find me a mom and dad to be my family." She looked from one to the other adult standing in front of her. "Please don't make me go back. I want a family. I'm a good girl. I'll be good, I promise."
Something in the little girl's voice broke Samantha's heart. There was a longing there - and a determination - that she recognised. Here was a little girl matured before her time, a little girl who had experienced enough of what she didn't want to decide what she needed - and who was willing to fight against her fate in order to get it.
"Where's Brenda?" Emma asked again. "I want to talk to Brenda."
"She was in a car accident," Jack told her quietly, watching her carefully for her reaction.
Emma frowned and slid off the bed. "You've got to take me to her. She'll be worried about me. Can you call her to tell her I'm okay?"
"I can certainly phone to see how she's doing," Jack said, finding himself liking the girl's precociousness. "You have to get ready to go, though. Wear something warm - it's very cold out there, and it's a bit of a walk to our car. I have to make a couple of calls while you're getting ready. We'll call Brenda before we leave."
His answer seemed to satisfy her, and they watched her nod. Smiling at her response, they left, closing the door behind them.
Outside the room, Samantha and Jack looked at each other in wonder.
"She was going to give her away like you would a puppy," Jack said, shaking his head at the thought.
Samantha turned to look at the closed door. "I don't think so," she said, her face thoughtful. "I think there was a lot more thought put into this than that. The question is, is that what she did for the other kids as well?"
"For, or to?" Jack grunted.
"For, Jack," Samantha said patiently. "Emma wanted a family, a real life. A safe life. Brenda was trying to give her that chance. With people who could provide her with all the love and stability she needs."
"You think," Jack responded tartly.
She nodded. "I think." Her eyes took on a wistful look as she turned to glance at the bedroom door. "I hope."
Jack moved to one of the table lamps and turned it on. A warm glow filled the room. "This is a nice place," he said, taking out his phone as he looked around the room.
Samantha didn't reply, knowing his mind was already on the call he was making. She watched as he waited for someone to answer. Finally, he said, "Yeah, we're at the cabin. Emma's here. She's fine. We're going to get her ready and bring her out shortly. Let the mother know her daughter's safe and that we're on the way. Call the local police and let them know, too." Samantha saw him frown. "What?" he asked. He looked across the room at Samantha. "When did they tell you that?" A moment's wait, then he asked, "For how long?" He listened to Danny's response, then said, "Okay. I'm sure we'll survive. I'll phone the hospital now to see how Brenda's doing." Repeating his earlier instructions, he added, "You call the mother and the local police, then go home and get some sleep. Tell the others to do the same. We'll talk in the morning."
Flipping his phone closed, he turned to Samantha. "Looks like we won't be needing those motel reservations. Apparently the storm's getting worse and they've closed the road again. The plows have been taken off the road. We're here for the night, so you might as well take off your coat and make yourself at home."
The end Chapter 8 Shelter
Thanks to those still reading. Thanks even more to those reading and commenting! It makes writing way more fun. Sarah, I hope you continue to enjoy the story!
Shelter Chapter 8 By: Mariel
Minutes after an officer came into the restaurant and announced that the road was opening, Jack had paid for their meals. A few minutes more, and he and Samantha were in their car and on their way. Theirs had been the only vehicle to leave immediately. Others, who had also been waiting, had chosen to take the officer's advice and wait for the plow, which, he promised, would arrive in only another thirty minutes or so.
Samantha and Jack had not felt that luxury of time. The officer, understanding their sense of urgency, had phoned ahead to announce their travel intentions to the contingent of plows and police vehicles that had been trapped on the other side of the now removed transport truck.
As Samantha had noted while inside the restaurant, the wind had picked up, frothing the snow that had already fallen back into the air, and creating clouds of white impossible to see through. At other times, strong gusts sent rivers of snow flowing across the road in front of them, blurring where the asphalt sloped into ditches on each side, and making just staying on the road a chancy business. In only moments, the lights of the town behind them disappeared in a curtain of roiling white chaos. Alone in a world of furiously competing black and white, they forged ahead at what felt like an impossibly slow pace.
"How are we going to see the turnoff when we get there?" Samantha wondered, looking out into the storm.
"I'm watching our mileage," Jack replied. "It's not on our map, but Danny said the turnoff was five miles outside Smithton Falls. Hopefully, we'll see something. Of course, if the plow gets there ahead of us, it will have blocked the entrance with snow..." His voice petered off. Walking to the cabin might be their only choice. He frowned, trying to remember if Danny had mentioned how far off the road the cabin actually was.
* * *
"It feels as though we should be there already," Samantha commented a while later.
Jack grimaced. "We've barely gone two miles." He eased his foot from the gas pedal as another whiteout encircled them. "Damned stupid time of year for a snowstorm," he complained.
For want of anything better to say, Samantha noted, "It caught everyone by surprise." She looked out into the storm and wished it was summer. "They're starting to bill it as the storm of the decade," she added, quoting a weather announcer's comment she'd heard on the radio in the restaurant. She hesitated a moment, then decided to voice what she was sure they had both been wondering. "Should we be driving straight to the hospital instead of the cabin, to be there when Brenda Hood wakes up? If she knows where Emma is..." Her voice trailed off.
Jack waited a moment before replying. Samantha had a point, but something teased at the back of his mind, urging him towards the cabin. Finally, he said, "I don't think Emma was with her. I was told there was no sign of anyone walking away from the vehicle, and that there was no luggage in the car. When I spoke to the officer at the scene, he said that there were a few groceries in the trunk. What if after they arrived, Brenda discovered they needed a couple of things? What if she left Emma in the cabin and headed out for what she thought would be a quick trip to the nearest store - and then had the accident on the way back?"
Samantha sat in silence, pondering his words. "You think she'd have left Emma by herself?"
"Samantha, we don't even know if Emma is alive. But if she is, my guess is that she's used to being left alone. Brenda would know that, and she may have figured that a cabin in the middle of nowhere was probably a safer place to be left than her mother's apartment in the city. Or maybe Emma was asleep, and Brenda didn't want to wake her - or maybe she just didn't want to run the risk of someone seeing her, and left her behind, just to be safe."
Samantha nodded, and felt a small seed of hope begin to grow inside her. Perhaps Emma would be there, unharmed.
She clenched her hands. Or perhaps they would find nothing. Perhaps Brenda had nothing to do with Emma's disappearance and they were on a wild goose chase based on nothing but a bizarre set of coincidences. She shook her head at her thoughts. Deep down, she was convinced that Brenda had everything to do with it. And if the other disappearances were also her handiwork, they already knew she was very good at covering her tracks. Feeling her frustrations rise, she moved restlessly in her seat.
Her thoughts were getting her nowhere, so she sat back and forced herself to ease some of the tension in her body. Stifling a sigh, she consciously tried to think of other things and turned her gaze towards the storm. After a few moments of watching the hypnotic bluster outside, her mind slowly turned to thoughts of the man beside her. She turned her head slightly to watch him as he peered through the maelstrom that encircled their vehicle. His features highlighted by the glow of the dashboard lights, she eyed him critically. He was the most complex man she'd ever met. And the most caring. And he carried with him something that attracted her, something she had never found in anyone else. She couldn't pinpoint what it was, couldn't have even begun to describe it, but she knew it was there and that it called to her and she to it.
A tremor ran through her. She liked the silver hair that grew at his temples, and wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through his shortly cropped hair. Turning her attention to the hands gripping the steering wheel, she imagined what it would be like to have them against her skin. It would be good to feel him move against her, to feel his mouth against hers, to touch him in return. She stopped her thoughts abruptly, moving uncomfortably in response to the rush of sheer physical desire they elicited. Her soft sigh almost a moan, she turned again to gaze out at the storm.
* * *
After what seemed a very long time, Jack slowed the car almost to a halt. The plow had gone by them, heading to the town they had left behind. The driver, a shadowy figure atop a bright yellow monster, did not stop, but had slowed and waved solemnly as he passed. The open trail he left behind had allowed Jack to increase his speed, albeit while driving on the wrong side of the road. Fortunately, they had met no cars in the twenty minutes since then. That there were no police vehicles following had caused them a moment's concern, but they had decided that they may have been caught up with some other emergency - or, perhaps, they were waiting at the entrance of the road leading to the cabin.
"Do me a favour," Jack said into the silence. "Call Danny and see if he can tell us just how far in off the road the cabin is."
Samantha nodded and reached for her phone. A moment later, she turned to Jack and said, "He said it's hard to tell because the road isn't very straight, but he figures about a half a mile, or so. He says we'll know we're close when it starts to follow the river."
She leaned forward to peer out of the window. "Where will we leave the car if we do find the turnoff? I can't imagine being able to drive the car right up to the place."
"I'll shovel a spot if I have to," Jack said in a determined tone. "But I expect there'll be somewhere I can pull over. I just need to be out of the way when the plow comes back this way." He paused, squinting into the darkness. "You'd better start paying close attention. We should be coming up on it soon - it's on your side."
There hadn't been a turnoff or a driveway for almost a mile. Or at least not one they'd been able to make out in the darkness. A few minutes later, though, and Samantha leaned forward, her eyes squinting. Still peering forward, she reached over and touched his arm. "Jack," she said, and then pointed.
He looked closely and nodded. Between gusts of blowing snow, he could barely make out the entrance of a road. It had to be the one leading to the cabin. Noting the absence of police vehicles, he said without surprise, "I guess law enforcement got caught up with something else." The snow, he noted, was deep here, and he was careful not to slow down too much, for fear he'd get stuck. He turned the car into the one-laned side road and stopped almost immediately. There was no way they could continue forward - a dip in the dirt road just ahead made it obvious they'd be stuck before they went another ten yards. He looked over his shoulder. When the plow went by it would likely block them in. He shrugged. They'd worry about that when the time came.
"Looks like we're here," he commented. Flicking his flashlight on, he moved to open his door. Looking back at her, he asked, "You ready?"
Pulling on her gloves, Samantha hefted the weight of her flashlight in one hand and nodded.
* * * *
1:30 a.m. FORTY-ONE HOURS MISSING
A few yards' walk took them into the protection of the trees. The wind, less able to thrust against them because of that protection, seemed to ease, though they could hear its angry roar as it rushed through the branches above their heads. On the ground, the snow was deep, and their legs quickly grew heavy with the effort of trailing through it.
"Looks like there's been a car in here," Jack said, his voice raised slightly over the whistling tree branches. He pointed his flashlight, indicating where faint parallel indentations the width of a car could be seen in the track.
"They're almost filled in with snow again," Samantha said, almost shouting to be heard. She held the furred edges of her parka hood together more tightly around her face and hunched her shoulders against the cold.
Jack nodded, glad for the heavy winter FBI gear he'd kept stored in the car's trunk. Adjusting his thick leather gloves, he said, "It must have been hours ago. You wouldn't be able to get in here now without four wheel drive."
Samantha turned and peered into the darkness. "So if Emma's there, she's been there alone for a while."
Wordlessly, they moved forward.
* * * *
Fifteen minutes later, they came to a fork in the road. Unsure which direction to take, because blowing snow had covered any trace of where the car had gone, they chose the one they believed led to the river. Five minutes later, however, the road came to a dead end. No cabin. No river.
Retracing their steps was difficult. Though the trees acted as a windbreak of sorts, the wind and snow getting through was now directly in their faces, making their cheeks and foreheads sting with cold. Moving away from the river meant they were travelling uphill as well, the gentle incline feeling steeper with each snow-impeded step.
Her legs aching, Samantha stopped and turned away from the wind to catch her breath. Cold was beginning to seep through her boots, and her fingers, too, were cold. She thought with longing of the sheepskin mittens she'd not taken the time to look for when she'd returned to her apartment.
Noticing she'd stopped, Jack stepped back towards her, keeping himself between her and the storm. She turned to face him when he placed a hand on her arm. "I'm out of shape," she told him, her voice breathless.
Jack nodded, not trying to hide the fact that he, too, was winded. "You and me both," he said. He looked at her closely, and in a voice tinged with concern, he added, "You're getting cold, too." Looking down at their feet, which were almost knee deep in snow, he added, "The snow's deeper here because it's drifted downhill. It'll be better once we get back to where we turned off." Without thinking, he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It shouldn't be too much farther. Come on. The sooner we start, the sooner we get there." Hunching their shoulders against the cold, they turned and resumed their walking.
Finally reaching the spot where they had veered to their right, they took the alternate branch. Ten minutes later, they were relieved to see the faint glint of a window reflecting their flashlight beams.
Moving closer, the gray outline of the cabin began to loom in the darkness. When they were only yards away from it, Jack flashed his light around. Gentle indentations showed where a car had been parked in the lee of the structure. Another, single furrow led to the front door.
"Nothing fresh. And no lights on that I can see."
Refusing to believe that something bad could have happened to the smiling girl whose picture hung on the whiteboard back at work, Samantha said, "She may be asleep. Perhaps Brenda drugged her so that she wouldn't wake up before she got back."
Both moved towards the front door. Jack walked up the two steps leading to it and tried the door handle. It turned easily in his hand. Glancing at Samantha in surprise, he removed his gloves and unholstered his gun from beneath his jacket. Nodding once, he slowly opened the door and entered.
Gun raised and body tense, he stepped forward and shone his light around the interior, methodically noting what it revealed. Shadowy furniture, a stone fireplace with a white sheepskin rug on the wooden floor in front of it. On the mantle, pictures. Two lamps sitting on end tables on either side of a sofa. To his left, a kitchen table with four chairs, a kerosene lantern on top of it, a braided rug beneath it. Moving further into the room, he felt Samantha move inside behind him, closing the door as she did. "It's clear here. Check the back room," he said in a low voice, gesturing towards his right. He moved to his left in the direction of what he expected would be the kitchen.
Samantha opened the door leading off the living area carefully, then called to Jack. Leaving the small kitchen, he followed the sound of her voice and stopped when he came to stand beside her in the doorway. There, in the light of Samantha's flashlight, was Emma Matthews.
"Emma?" Samantha asked softly.
"Who are you? Where's Brenda?" the little girl asked, struggling to a sitting position in the double bed that dominated the small bedroom.
Jack and Samantha looked at each other in relief. Full of questions as she was, Emma was obviously unharmed.
Samantha turned on the ceiling light. "I'm Samantha Spade, and this is Jack Malone," she said, taking the lead as she moved slowly towards the bed Emma sat upon.
"Where's Brenda?" the little girl asked, blinking in the sudden brightness. "What time is it? She should be here by now. Why are you here?"
"We've come to take you home."
Samantha's words brought a hopeful look to Emma's face. "You're the ones? Am I going to live with you?"
Jack and Samantha shared a glance. Carefully, Samantha turned to Emma. "No, honey, we're going to take you home to your mother," she said in a soothing voice.
The change in Emma's demeanor was immediate. Frowning, she said angrily, "No! And you can't make me!"
Disconcerted at the child's response, Samantha said, "Emma, your mother is worried about you. You just disappeared. Brenda didn't have the right to bring you here. She didn't tell anyone where you were."
"She couldn't. If she did, no one would have let her find me a mom and dad to be my family." She looked from one to the other adult standing in front of her. "Please don't make me go back. I want a family. I'm a good girl. I'll be good, I promise."
Something in the little girl's voice broke Samantha's heart. There was a longing there - and a determination - that she recognised. Here was a little girl matured before her time, a little girl who had experienced enough of what she didn't want to decide what she needed - and who was willing to fight against her fate in order to get it.
"Where's Brenda?" Emma asked again. "I want to talk to Brenda."
"She was in a car accident," Jack told her quietly, watching her carefully for her reaction.
Emma frowned and slid off the bed. "You've got to take me to her. She'll be worried about me. Can you call her to tell her I'm okay?"
"I can certainly phone to see how she's doing," Jack said, finding himself liking the girl's precociousness. "You have to get ready to go, though. Wear something warm - it's very cold out there, and it's a bit of a walk to our car. I have to make a couple of calls while you're getting ready. We'll call Brenda before we leave."
His answer seemed to satisfy her, and they watched her nod. Smiling at her response, they left, closing the door behind them.
Outside the room, Samantha and Jack looked at each other in wonder.
"She was going to give her away like you would a puppy," Jack said, shaking his head at the thought.
Samantha turned to look at the closed door. "I don't think so," she said, her face thoughtful. "I think there was a lot more thought put into this than that. The question is, is that what she did for the other kids as well?"
"For, or to?" Jack grunted.
"For, Jack," Samantha said patiently. "Emma wanted a family, a real life. A safe life. Brenda was trying to give her that chance. With people who could provide her with all the love and stability she needs."
"You think," Jack responded tartly.
She nodded. "I think." Her eyes took on a wistful look as she turned to glance at the bedroom door. "I hope."
Jack moved to one of the table lamps and turned it on. A warm glow filled the room. "This is a nice place," he said, taking out his phone as he looked around the room.
Samantha didn't reply, knowing his mind was already on the call he was making. She watched as he waited for someone to answer. Finally, he said, "Yeah, we're at the cabin. Emma's here. She's fine. We're going to get her ready and bring her out shortly. Let the mother know her daughter's safe and that we're on the way. Call the local police and let them know, too." Samantha saw him frown. "What?" he asked. He looked across the room at Samantha. "When did they tell you that?" A moment's wait, then he asked, "For how long?" He listened to Danny's response, then said, "Okay. I'm sure we'll survive. I'll phone the hospital now to see how Brenda's doing." Repeating his earlier instructions, he added, "You call the mother and the local police, then go home and get some sleep. Tell the others to do the same. We'll talk in the morning."
Flipping his phone closed, he turned to Samantha. "Looks like we won't be needing those motel reservations. Apparently the storm's getting worse and they've closed the road again. The plows have been taken off the road. We're here for the night, so you might as well take off your coat and make yourself at home."
The end Chapter 8 Shelter