“Ugh, it appears Noel walked in circles for a long time. No wonder he was upset.”Sasha surveyed the scuffed footprints in the sand. The scent trail worked best, although that led them in large circles too. The sun passed beneath the horizon, taking the last of the light. Other than the swish of the waves and a lone bird wheeling across the sky, Sasha could hear nothing.
“Don’t like dark,” Noel whispered, his small fingers clenching hers tighter. “Can’t see.”
“You’re in luck then,” Sasha chirped. “I have excellent night vision. We’ll have you home in no time.”
* * * * *
Maxwell Lombardy pulled up in front of his childhood home with a tired sigh. The meeting in Edinburgh had been a long, brutal one with heads rolling. He was damn lucky the boss understood his situation and appreciated the work ethic he’d established since joining the newspaper. Max grabbed his laptop bag out of the back along with his suit jacket and started for the house. At least he’d made it home before Noel’s bedtime. He’d read his brother a bedtime story. That always relaxed Max, and his brother seemed to enjoy the ritual they’d established.
It took him long seconds to realize the house lay in unnatural darkness, given Sheryl should be preparing dinner or even doing the dishes. Max started running. He burst through the unlocked front door and flicked on the hall light.
“Sheryl? Sheryl! Noel, I’m home.”
No one replied, and when his little brother didn’t come barreling from the family room to say hello, Max truly started to worry. Sheryl and Noel should be here. The scent of dinner should waft on the air. True, Sheryl often burned the meal when she became involved in her soap operas, but at least Noel appreciated her culinary efforts.
Max set his laptop bag and suit jacket on the kitchen table. Dirty dishes littered the countertop, and an empty crisp packet lay in the middle of the floor, its meager contents spilled across the dirty tiles.
Max continued his search, his pulse racing. He rapidly scanned the mudroom where they stored gumboots and wet-weather gear. The open external door was ominous. Hell, had his grandparents barged into the house and taken Noel without telling him? His grandmother had threatened to do that before, citing his lack of years and feminine influence as a reason his younger brother was at risk under Max’s care. Total bull crap. Max loved his brother, who was an enthusiastic and happy child, despite the Down syndrome that many people used to define him.
“Noel?” Max checked the formal dining room, the family room where he and Noel watched TV together, the second lounge where they entertained his grandparents, and the downstairs bathroom before heading upstairs to check the bedrooms. He searched Noel’s first. His favorite toys were present. His bedspread bore crinkles as if Noel had taken a nap at some stage during the day.
Noel wasn’t present, full of smiles and a welcome for his big brother. Max even searched the closet where Noel hid if something upset him or he was out of sorts. His brother had spent way too many hours in that hidey-hole after their parents had died in the accident. Max had thought—hoped—Noel had started to accept their absence.
It was quiet up here too. Max found his bedroom was empty, as was the bathroom, the separate toilet, and his parents’ bedroom. Max had considered moving into the master, but it had upset Noel, so he’d kept using his old room.
Still nothing. Where the devil were they?
Surely if his grandparents had taken Noel, Sheryl would’ve been here or at least called him to let him know. He considered ringing his grandparents, but if Noel weren’t with them, the phone call would start a chain reaction he’d never stop.
He reached Sheryl’s bedroom and opened the door. On hearing a muffled sound, he flicked on the light. Sheryl lay on the bed, snoring, and not even the abrupt illumination jerked her awake. Another snore erupted from her, loud enough to rattle the rafters. A bottle of what looked like vodka sat on the bedside cabinet, along with an open bottle of orange juice and an empty glass. Only an inch of the vodka remained.
With two strides, Max reached the bed and grasped Sheryl’s shoulder, giving her a hard shake. “Sheryl. Wake up.” His nose wrinkled at the alcoholic fumes wafting from her. “Sheryl!”
She groaned. “Whatzup?”
Max shook her hard, alarm filling him. “Where’s Noel?”
“Must’ve fallen asleep,” Sheryl said, looking marginally more alert. Her eyes flickered, lifting fractionally, then slamming shut. “He’s in his room.”
“No, he’s not,” Max snapped. “How long have you been asleep? And why the hell are you drinking alcohol while you’re minding Noel?”
“Not long.” Sheryl glanced at her watch and turned pale. “Crap.”
“When did you last see him?”
She’d conveniently avoided to answer the drink question. Max itched to jolt answers from her, but he forced himself to take a step back to avoid throttling her. Hell, if his grandparents learned of this debacle, they’d make sure to inform the authorities.
“One o’clock. I made Noel a sandwich for lunch. After lunch, I put him down for a nap.”
“You’ve been drinking since he went for his afternoon rest?” The words burst from Max before he could recall them.
“I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me. Not with a woman. He slept with a man. Says he’s bisexual.”
“I don’t care,” Max said. “Get up. Help me look for Noel.”
Sheryl yanked a tissue from the box on her nightstand and blew her nose. “You’re going to sack me.”
Hell yeah. “You search the house. I’ll check the barn. Noel loves visiting the kittens.”
