“It’s possible that right after her meeting with Trudy that night, Paula sneaked back into the house and took Harris.”
The words dropped like stones. Garrett’s gut twisted hard. He could still see it, still feel it. He and Isla outside the nursery door, lost in each other when they should have been watching. The truth was brutal—he wouldn’t have heard an elephant crash through that nursery, much less a social worker with quiet steps and the know-how to slip in and out without a sound.
The guilt pressed down, raw and familiar. Twenty-two years had done nothing to dull it.
He forced his jaw to unclench, but the memory burned through him all the same.
Sheriff Raines shifted his weight, his voice firm. “I plan to reach out to all three. Bring them in for interviews, see what shakes loose.”
Before Garrett could answer, Isla’s phone was already in her hand. Her thumbs moved quick, precise, and then she lifted her gaze. “Check your messages. I just sent you their contact info.”
Raines glanced down at his own phone and gave her a short nod. “Appreciate it.”
The door opened before anything more could be said. A doctor stepped in, his white coat stark under the harsh lights. His expression was serious but not grim.
“Trudy is awake,” the doctor said. “She’s asking for you.” His gaze flicked between Garrett and Isla. “Both of you.”
Garrett pushed to his feet, tension snapping through him. At last, some answers waited on the other side of that door.
Chapter Four
Isla followed Garrett into the recovery room, her chest tight with every step. The space was small, the air heavy with the sharp scent of antiseptic. Machines hummed softly, their lights blinking in a steady rhythm, and the pale curtain along one wall shivered with the faint draft of the vent above.
Trudy lay in the bed, eyes closed, skin washed out against the stark white sheets. So pale. So fragile. The sight hit Isla hard, splintering something deep inside her. Trudy had never hurt a soul in her life. She had given and given, and now here she was, fighting to hold on.
They stopped at the bedside just as the doctor spoke from the doorway. “Five minutes,” he said, then stepped back and closed the door behind him.
As if on cue, Trudy’s eyelids fluttered open. She found them with her gaze, and the corner of her mouth lifted in the faintest attempt at a smile.
Isla reached for her hand, careful and gentle, her throat aching.
Trudy lifted her trembling hand from the blanket. Isla caught it gently, and Garrett reached for the other. Trudy gave both their hands a faint squeeze, her touch weak but full of meaning.
“It’s nice to see you together,” she murmured, her voice no more than a rasp. “I haven’t seen that…” Her breath caught, and she faltered before finishing, “…in a long time.”
Isla’s throat felt as if it were closing up. She didn’t argue. It was true. Since the night Harris disappeared, she and Garrett had done everything they could to keep their distance. At least physically.
But distance hadn’t done a damn thing to cut him out of her heart.
She had never gotten over him. Not then, not now. He wasn’t only the one who had gotten away. Garrett McCall was the love of her life.
Too bad being around her meant dragging him back into the worst night of both their lives. Just the sight of her was enough to bring Harris’s disappearance crashing back, raw and unhealed.
Garrett leaned closer, his voice low but steady. “Trudy, what happened? Who did this to you?”
Her eyelids fluttered, her gaze sliding past him for a moment before she pulled it back. “I saw someone,” she whispered. “Behind the sheds. Moving around back there.” Her breath caught, her words slurred with exhaustion. “Didn’t see a face. Just… a hoodie. Dark.”
Isla’s pulse quickened. The same shadow Garrett had chased.
“I called Isla,” Trudy went on, her voice fading in and out. “Then went to my room… got the bat.”
Isla nodded. She knew about the bat. Trudy kept it under her bed, a precaution she had explained years ago. Just in case some irate parent ever came knocking, demanding their kid back. To Isla’s knowledge, that had never happened, but she had never argued against the measure either. Trudy had been rightto protect herself, especially since she refused to keep a gun in the house.
And now… someone had still managed to put her here. Pale. Weak. Clinging to life.
Isla tightened her hold on Trudy’s hand, willing her to stay with them.
Trudy’s voice came in halting breaths. “When I came back to the kitchen with the bat… someone was kicking at the door.” Her hand trembled against Isla’s. “They were wearing a ski mask. Had a gun.”
