Last Resort. Hannah Alexander

listening to her harsh, shallow breathing.

      She scrambled to her feet, stumbled again, dizzy and confused.

      A hand touched her shoulder. She screamed and skittered backward. Something caught her at the ankles. She fell back, slamming against the cement floor. Total darkness engulfed her.

      Noelle dropped the bills back into their slot and shoved the cash drawer shut. Time to go home and go to bed.

      She looked up to see a customer reaching for the handle of the front door—the door she’d locked a few moments ago. Groaning inwardly, she motioned for the man to wait, then retrieved the keys from the drawer.

      She could feel her neck muscles tightening as she walked toward the front of the store. She glanced outside at the dark sky, then at the pale impatient face of the waiting customer. She wasn’t up to this, really she wasn’t. She needed to get away sometime soon, away from the demanding customers, the complaints and traffic. She couldn’t take—

      Again, that feeling of focused concern struck her, more powerfully intense this time. And even more focused.

      She caught her breath. It had been so long since she’d experienced this…this response. She closed her eyes, ignoring the man at the door.

      “Oh dear Jesus.” It was a prayer not a curse. “Is this—” She opened her eyes, startled. “Carissa!”

      Chapter Two

      Nathan Trask gritted his teeth and braked his black Chevrolet pickup to avoid hitting a flop-eared hound darting out in front of him, the dog’s black nose following a scent.

      “Sorry, fella, but that raccoon’s probably long gone,” Nathan muttered as the dog plunged into the brush on the other side of the road. “Could be we’re both following a false trail.”

      A car honked behind him, and he increased his speed. Traffic in Springfield could rival the congestion of St. Louis or Kansas City during rush hours, but at 6:30 a.m. on Friday, Highway 160, south of Missouri’s third largest metropolis, held some of the attractions of a country lane. Touches of yellow and burnt orange decorated the trees along the road this autumn morning, hinting at more color to come.

      But today, the beauty didn’t ease Nathan’s tension. He knew, from a lifetime of experience, that Noelle Cooper had a formidable understanding of logic, and the idea that Nathan had been considering these past few hours was not logical. His best friend from childhood might think he’d gone nuts.

      He forced his hands to relax on the steering wheel and unclenched his jaw. Maybe his desperation to find Carissa, along with a night without sleep, had addled his brain. But his memories of Noelle’s particular gift were vivid, more so in the past few months, as the friendship that he and Noelle had shared long ago reestablished itself after years of life’s intrusions.

      He wasn’t romanticizing the past, was he? Jumping to wild conclusions about Noelle’s ability to find Carissa when the rest of them had failed?

      Noelle adored Carissa, and she needed to know what was happening. He was doing the right thing, if for no other reason than to inform Noelle about something she deserved to know, since she and the girl were family.

      He turned right before he reached the city-limits sign, then drove six blocks and turned right again, admiring the picture-postcard attractiveness of this increasingly familiar neighborhood. Since running into Noelle in downtown Hideaway earlier this summer, Nathan had started finding more and more excuses to visit Springfield, despite the three-hour round trip.

      As he pulled into her driveway—second house on the left, the gray brick with black trim—he spotted her red Ford Escort through the tiny square panes of the garage window, which meant Noelle hadn’t gone to work yet. Good. Maybe her partner could carry the load today, so Noelle could be free to come back to Hideaway with him immediately. After a cup of coffee; he really needed a strong dose of caffeine first.

      Less than three seconds after Nathan rang the doorbell, Noelle opened the door. She focused on him slowly, pushing back a wave of tousled brown hair. Her brow cleared, and that familiar, affectionate smile lit the sleepy lines of her face.

      “Nathan?”

      “Morning,” he said, casting a glance at her long, teddy-bear nightshirt and terry-cloth robe. “Just get up?”

      “Mmm-hmm.” She rubbed her eyes. “Thought I’d see if I had a paper yet.” She peered out at the empty sidewalk and front yard and shrugged. “Optimistic, I know. Come on in. Did you just get into Springfield? How about a cup of coffee? What are you doing here so early? Another meeting with those rural pharmacy suppliers?” She turned, leading the way back inside.

      For a moment, instead of following her, he hesitated. Crazy. Definitely, he was crazy. What in the world made him think he could face this sane woman and blurt out what he’d been thinking? They were both adults now. Was he romanticizing memories? As a child, Noelle had possessed an extra special knowledge of certain events. Could she have that knowledge now?

      She stopped and turned back, the tiny lines around her blue eyes deepening. “Nathan?”

      “Coming.” He followed her into the foyer. “No meeting today. I came to see you. And coffee would be wonderful. Oh, and yes, I just got into Springfield.” Classical music played in the background, and he caught a whiff of pumpkin spice mingled with freshly brewed coffee.

      She pulled a mug from a cupboard near the sink. “You came to Springfield at six-thirty in the morning—which would mean you left Hideaway at five? Ick! All this just to see me?” Her movements slowed and she turned, frowning at him. “So what’s up?”

      “Your sister hasn’t called, has she?”

      A heightened alertness stiffened her shoulders, and her eyes narrowed with sudden apprehension. “Why would Jill call me this early in the morning? What’s happened?”

      “Carissa’s missing.”

      Noelle stared at him for a moment, slow to comprehend what he was saying.

      “She disappeared last night, somewhere between the house and the sawmill,” he continued gently. “We haven’t found her.”

      Nathan’s words seemed to strike her one by one, in a timed delay. Then her eyes widened, and she drew in a deep breath.

      Nathan reached for her as she paled.

      She caught his arm. “Oh, no,” she breathed. “What…what time last night?”

      “It was after dark, maybe around eight. She went down the hill to the sawmill to do some research for a school paper, and she was supposed to bring back a ledger for Cecil and Jill when she returned. She never returned.”

      Noelle’s grip on Nathan’s arm tightened. “I can’t believe…they must be out of their minds with worry!”

      “Cecil is blaming himself. Melva’s inconsolable.” Noelle had grown up in Cedar Hollow, down the lane from her cousin Cecil, and the two of them had been like brother and sister.

      “And my sister?” she asked.

      “Jill’s trying to reassure all of them, but it isn’t doing much good. Jill’s just as upset as the rest. I thought you’d want to help search.”

      Years ago, when Noelle was in the process of a painful divorce from her abusive husband, she had returned to Hideaway to stay with her sister, Jill. During those months, she’d spent a lot of time with Cecil’s daughter, Carissa, forming a bond that had kept them close ever since. Though Jill lived in town, and Cecil’s family in sparsely populated countryside outside Hideaway—a hollow in the hills strewn with cedars, Carissa had used every excuse to visit Hideaway and spend the night.

      Noelle released her grip on Nathan’s arm. “I’ll get dressed, and then I’ll follow you back. Put our coffee in a thermos, will you? There’s one in the cabinet above the stove.” She swung toward the hall, chatter gear kicking