Page 46 of Fallen Creed

Jason hated seeing Hannah like this.

“Rye said they were worried this young woman had run off to hurt herself,” Hannah told him.

He could feel her eyes searching his face. She knew he had veteran buddies who had offed themselves. Jason didn’t think she knew about his own attempt at suicide. It felt like a lifetime ago. He was an entirely different person back then, but he still preferred Hannah didn’t know how close he’d come. Only Ryder and Scout knew.

“Ryder might have found her,” Jason said. “Maybe she’s hurt, and he can’t move her?”

“It’s possible.” She didn’t look convinced. She looked worried. Worried like he’d never seen Hannah before. “It does no good for us to sit around and imagine.”

The back door opened, startling both of them. Brodie and Hank came in. The American Staffordshire terrier went everywhere with her. The two were inseparable. But it was a good thing. Jason swore he’d seen a change in Brodie’s confidence level since the big dog adopted her as his new owner.

Within seconds, the tiny cat she’d named Kitten shot out from another room and weaved around all the dog legs to greet Brodie. All this was a welcome break. It even made Hannah smile.

“Dr. Avelyn said Hank’s shoulder looks good,” Brodie told them.

Ryder had found the dog at the edge of Coldwater Creek back in June. Someone had shot the dog and left him to die. Jason thought Hank was probably the scariest dog he’d ever seen—lean and muscular, with a massive head and jaw. Turned out, he was affectionate and friendly with people, but a little shy and cautious around the other dogs. He also had soulful eyes. He could roll those up at anyone, and it was hard not to like him.

Brodie looked up from the dogs. She looked at Jason, then Hannah, and within seconds, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Are we that transparent, Sweet Pea?” Hannah smiled again, but this one was forced.

“Did I do something wrong?” Brodie asked.

“Oh sweetie, of course, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what is it?”

Jason couldn’t help thinking Brodie sounded more like a teenager than a twenty-seven-year-old woman. When she first came to live here eight months ago, Hannah explained to Jason that living in captivity had stunted Brodie’s emotional growth.

He knew the malnutrition—from the starvation and drugs Iris Malone had subjected her to—had played havoc with Brodie’s physical well-being, too. Tall and willowy, she had the straight hips and small breasts of a teenager.

Her years of confinement had robbed her of too many things, but she had grown in other ways. She was smart, perceptive, and fearless. And she insisted on the truth, always. That’s why Jason left this for Hannah to tell. Because he already knew from previous experience that Brodie would immediately know if he lied.

“We’re a little worried about Ryder.”

“Has something happened?”

Jason could hear a subtle panic in her voice, but she stood perfectly still, long arms at her side. Hank brushed up against her leg, already alert to her discomfort. Even Scout scooted so close to Jason that part of his butt was on Jason’s foot.

“We don’t know. No one’s heard from him since this morning.”

“Well, if he and Grace are on a search, he probably lost track of time. Just because he doesn’t call anybody doesn’t mean something’s wrong. Does it?”

A logical notion. Jason knew Brodie hated carrying a phone. Hannah had gotten her one, and most of the time Brodie forgot it somewhere. She spent more time trying to find it than she did using it.

“It’s a little different,” Hannah told her. “There’s a snowstorm going on. And it’s very cold.”

Silence and tension filled the kitchen.

Jason tried to imagine if the roles were reversed. What would Ryder do if he was the one sitting here and Jason was the one a thousand miles away, possibly hurt and not responding? He didn’t need to think about it for long. He knew the answer.

“How many hours is it from here?” he asked Hannah.

“To Nebraska?”

“Eighteen to twenty? Isn’t it?”

Jason was already calculating it in his head. He brought out his phone and tapped in Milton, Florida, to Omaha, Nebraska, bringing up a suggested route. 1110 miles. Seventeen hours and eight minutes.