Emmie looked around.
Even though the sun was up, it was still really dark in the woods, maybe because the trees were too thick to let the sunshine in. Emmie didn’t like that—it was creepy. How could a place be creepier in the day than it was at night? She didn’t know but somehow the woods were.
Getting up, she looked down at her torn and muddy nightgown and her missing slipper. Mommy was going to be really upset at her. She always said that clothes were expensive and money didn’t grow on trees. Emmie had verified this for herself by looking at all the trees she could find. Sure enough, none of them had dollar bills for leaves.
She suddenly remembered that Mommy had also told her never to go into the woods. Oh, she was going to be in so much trouble when she got home! She would probably lose her cartoons for a month.
But right at that moment, Emmie didn’t care. She just knew she wanted to be home safe, watching cartoons or reading, with Mommy making her special Saturday morning galaxy pancakes and Charlie barking at the dog commercials while Grandpa Bud was drinking his first cup of coffee—what he called his “Morning Joe” for some reason.
Right at that moment, Emmie felt more homesick and tired and scared and thirsty than she ever had in her life—even on the first day of Pre-K when her Mommy had to leave her alone with a bunch of kids and teachers she didn’t know.
Plus, she really had to pee.
“Charlie,” she whispered to her dog, because it seemed wrong to talk too loud in the creepy woods. “Charlie, we need to go home.”
At this, Charlie’s ears perked up and he gave a happy sounding, whuff!
“Do you know the way home?” Emmie asked him.
Charlie hopped up and did a little prancing step—the way he usually did when he wanted to play ball or fetch. Emmie looked at him doubtfully. Did that mean he did know the way home? Or did he just want to play?
Well, she would have to hope he knew the way home because she couldn’t find the river or the Daddy-man and her Mommy was going to be upset with her if she stayed out here much longer and plus she was beginning to really hate the creepy woods.
“Let’s go home,” she told her dog. “Only first I’m really thirsty. I haveta pee too but there’s no TP here so I guess I’ll just have to hold it. But maybe we can get a drink.”
She eyed the lake, which was supposed to be a river, doubtfully. She could see the marshy plants place where she had fallen down and gotten tangled up last night, but there was a clear spot too—a grassy bank that led down to the edge of the water.
Emmie took a few steps towards the clear spot on the bank. The water looked nasty and brown but at least there wasn’t any of that green al-bee scum stuff floating on it that Mommy said was pond slime. Maybe it wouldn’t taste too bad. Right now she was so thirsty Emmie thought any kind of water would be good.
“Come on, Charlie,” she told her dog. “Let’s go get a drink before we go home.”
She walked further down the bank, being careful to step around the plants that had looked like firm ground last night but weren’t. But for some reason, Charlie didn’t follow her. Instead, he started growling.
Emmie turned to look at him.
“Charlie?” she said, frowning. “Come on—aren’t you thirsty?”
But Charlie wouldn’t move. His shoulders had gone all stiff and his short brown hair seemed to be sticking up all over. He was facing the pond where she was going to get a drink and his growl kept getting louder and louder.
Emmie frowned again—why was he growling at the pond? There was nothing but water there—water and a big old bumpy log floating half-submerged in the murky, brown depths. But why would Charlie growl at a log?
“Charlie?” she asked again. “What’s wrong?” And then the big old log did something strange.
It opened its eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
Slade heard the canine growling and smelled the scent of an apex predator long before he reached the clearing. He also heard Emmie’s high, piping voice asking why Charlie was growling.
Goddess, help me get to her! His arm rose and fell, rose and fell tirelessly, cutting a way through the tangled tropical brush. The vines and underbrush dragged at his boots and tried to trip him and the branches whipped his face but Slade scarcely noticed. He had a feeling of impending danger growing inside him—an anxiety so sharp it bit into his soul the way the machete was biting into the brush.
Behind him, trying hard to control her panic, was Brandi. Slade wasn’t happy about letting her come out into this dangerous, wild place but he was smart enough to know a mother couldn’t be left behind during the hunt for her child. So he prayed he could keep between her and any danger and save Emmie too.