Your Inescapable Love (The Bennett Family 4)

She gives me the address, and I slip on into my sneakers with lightning speed, not even bothering to tie my shoelaces before leaving the house. I find the three women huddled around a bin at a crossroads, looking lost.

“Where have you searched?” I ask as I reach them. I’m shaking like a leaf—the fear and exhaustion eating away at me.

“Well, we’ve been up and down the main streets, and we haven’t seen her,” Mrs. Andersen says.

“How about the neighbors? Did anyone see her?”

Mrs. Wilson shakes her head. “No. We asked them already. It’s early morning, so not all of them are up, but….”

“Have you alerted the police?”

“Yes, they are searching already, but haven’t reported anything back.”

Panic coils through my veins, threatening to suffocate me as the thought sinks in, slashing and unforgiving. Grams is lost. Far above us, thunder breaks across the sky. Almost unwillingly, I look up. The clouds are gray and heavy.

“Let’s search for her too. We have to find her before it starts raining,” I say, and my voice sounds hollow to my own ears. “She can’t be that far. The neighborhood is small.”

I don’t say what we all must be thinking. That by now, she could have left the neighborhood already. No, she hasn’t. She didn’t. She couldn’t. I cling to this last hope with all my being.

“My weekly book club meeting starts in fifteen minutes,” Mrs. Anderson says, her eyes lighting up.

“We can ask them to help. They all love your grandmother,” Mrs. Jensen adds.

“That’s a great idea,” I say, relieved. “Thank you.”

Within fifteen minutes, we have a party of eight, armed with umbrellas and flashlights, in addition to the two police officers already searching the area. Even though it’s morning, the sky is so dark with clouds that we might need the flashlights.

“All right, listen up,” I say loudly, holding up a map of the neighborhood. “We should divide and each take a street. Please look even in places you don’t think a perso

n would linger, such as behind trash cans. I also brought some pics of Grams. You can show them to passersby and ask them if they saw her.”

There is a round of nodding, and then we start the search party. I go to the local bakery first, knowing how much Grams loves his bread and sweets, but the vendor hasn’t seen her. I leave him my number, and he looks at me with pity as he assures me he’ll call me if Grams shows up.

I go inside every shop on the main street of the neighborhood, and then I look at the back of the streets, leaving no stone unturned. But Grams is nowhere to be found.

After an hour, the rain descends upon us, pouring with a vengeance. The umbrella isn’t helping much, because the wind is strong, scattering raindrops everywhere. My phone rings, and Mrs. Wilson’s name appears on the screen.

“Did you find her?” I hold my breath as a desperate hope surges through me.

“No. I’m so sorry, honey. Everyone is seeking shelter from the rain. The umbrellas aren’t helping.”

My stomach sinks as my hopes plummet. “You stopped searching?”

“We can always continue after the rain stops.”

“But she’s out there in the rain.” I bite my lip hard, fighting tears. Where is she? I can’t let anything happen to her.

“I’ll search with you, okay? Everyone else from the book club is too cold to go on. But the police officers are still searching, right?”

“Yes. I also called MedicAlert.” It’s an emergency service helping locate people with Alzheimer when they get lost. “They’re searching too, but I feel as if I have to do something.”

“I’ll continue the search too.”

“I—thank you, Mrs. Wilson. Call me if you have any news.”

But the next time she calls me, it’s not to give me any good news. “I can’t go on, sweetheart. There is water in my shoes, and the rain is so strong, I can’t see a damn thing.”

“I know,” I say through sobs. “You go home and make sure you don’t catch a cold, Mrs. Wilson.”