Calling for overhead lights, he got dressed as quickly as he could in leather trousers and boots and another one of the comfortable, stretchy t-shirts and set out for the Docking Bay at a run.
It was going to be a race to get to Emmie in time…and he might already be too late. But Slade was damned if he’d give up until he’d done everything he could do to save Emmie and reunite her with her mother. It didn’t matter if Brandi didn’t want him anymore—she and her daughter were still his to protect and he was damn well going to do his job.
* * * * *
“I’m sorry…I’m just so sorry. I never…never meant to leave the door open! Oh that poor sweet baby. It’s all my fault!”
Ida-Mae was still more than halfway intoxicated and her drunken bawling wasn’t helping the situation at all.
“Be quiet, Mom,” Brandi snapped. She was pushing as hard as she could, trying to get through the jumbled tangle of weeds and vines and bushes and branches but it was slow going and she wasn’t even sure she was taking the right direction. Or even if the woods was really where Emmie had gone.
What if she came out here to play around the stream and then somebody snatched her? What then? demanded a frantic little voice in her head. You might be wasting time digging around in the woods while she’s locked in some horrible person’s trunk and…
“Brandi? Brandi, I got the police coming,” called Bud’s voice from a few feet behind her.
“Did they say they could bring bloodhounds?” Brandi backed out of the swampy thicket and ran back to her stepfather hopefully.
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. They said they only bring out the dogs if the situation warrants it. And they won’t know if it does until an officer comes out and evaluates the scene.”
“Well when are they coming?” Brandi demanded. “My God, she might have been gone for hours! You said Mom came in at four and if Emmie left right after she came in—”
“I’m sorry!” Ida-Mae wailed. “Oh Brandi, I’m just so sorry! You know I wouldn’t do it on purpose. I love that little girl!”
“Be quiet, Mom!” Brandi snapped again and turned back to Bud. “Are they on their way? Do you know?”
“They said they were.” But Bud’s thin voice sounded doubtful. The local police were reluctant to come out to this part of town and it usually took them a good long time to respond to any calls from the trailer park.
“I did find this.” Bud held out a long, sharp knife with a short handle. “My old machete,” he explained as he handed it to Brandi. “Used to use it to get firewood when we went camping. It’s still pretty sharp—should be able to cut through the trees and creepers with it.”
“All right.” Brandi took a firm grip on the worn wooden handle. “I’m going back in the woods—I just wish I knew for sure that’s where she went!” She felt panic rise up in her and tried to tamp it back down.
“At least she’s got Charlie with her,” Bud offered faintly. “He should be some protection.”
“If he really went with her and didn’t just run off in the woods,” Brandi snapped. She didn’t have much faith in the Boxer-Lab mix. He still acted like a puppy half the time. She thought it was more likely that he would have led Emmie into the woods and then left her than that he was doing the faithful, protective dog routine.
“I’m going in,” she said again, gripping the machete harder.
“No you’re not—I am,” a deep familiar voice said behind her.
Chapter Fifteen
Brandi whirled around.
“Slade? What are you doing here?”
“Helping you find your daughter,” he growled. “And I’m in no mood for a fight. Just give me something she always wears so I can get her scent.”
Bud and Ida-Mae were still standing there, staring at the huge Kindred with bug eyes so Brandi ran into the house and grabbed her daughter’s little pink jacket. For a moment tears filled her eyes and she wanted to crush the jacket to her.
Oh Emmie, please come back to me!
But she was afraid she might obscure her daughter’s scent with her own. So she just held it by the hood and ran back outside to hand it to Slade.
The big Kindred took the little jacket and sniffed it deeply, closing his eyes and frowning as though he was analyzing and memorizing the smell. Then he looked at Brandi.
“Okay, tell me what you know. Where does the trail start?”
“Here—at least I think so.” Brandi ran over to the place where Emmie’s small tracks mingled with Charlie’s. “See? I think she must have gone into the woods from, here. And Slade…” She gripped his arm, feeling her stomach clench. “There are supposed to be gators in there! People have lost dogs to them. And Emmie…Emmie is so small…”