That fact overrode every other thought immediately.
“Of course.” I was already moving. “I can track her. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I stepped outside and hurried to my truck. “Stay where you are.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.
“I’ll find her.”
There was a small pause.
“Okay.”
The night suddenly felt colder than it had earlier. My mind moved quickly through the information she had given me.
Missing child.
Unknown direction.
Water nearby.
Bobbi had only spent limited time around me, but she’d left an impression. She asked direct questions. Observed everything. Moved through the world with curiosity that didn’t always account for danger.
The thought of that girl alone, somewhere in the dark, sent a spike of worry through me.
I climbed into the truck and started the engine. The tires rolled over the gravel as I pulled onto the road.
Another realization settled into place.
Zoey had called me. She’d asked for my help.
The knowledge didn’t change the urgency of the situation, but it did ease some of the awfulness that had been inside me the past two days.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and pressed my foot down on the gas. The wolf inside me was already awake, searching, preparing. Fifteen minutes suddenly felt far too long.
The drive to the canal blurred into a series of turns I barely registered.
My mind tracked distance automatically. The road. The intersections. The time it should take to reach the path where Zoey was waiting. Every few seconds, my thoughts tried to jump ahead to the unknown places where a missing child could be hiding.
I forced them back.
One step at a time.
Find Zoey.
Get the scent.
Follow the trail.
I rolled to a stop in the gravel turnout beside the canal path. Dust rose behind the tires before settling again. The evening sun hung low enough to cast long shadows through the trees, turning the narrow trail into alternating bands of light and shade.
People had gathered, moving along the canal bank in small groups, calling Bobbi’s name while scanning the brush. A few carried walking sticks. Someone had brought binoculars. The tension in the air was unmistakable even without the raised voices. Everyone moved with the same urgent purpose.
I found Zoey immediately.
She stood near the entrance to the path with her phone pressed to one ear, one hand braced on her hip as she listened. Her posture was rigid with concentration. Her hair had been pulled back quickly, and a few strands had escaped around her face. Even from across the gravel lot, I could see the tightness in her shoulders.
She saw my truck and ended the call mid-sentence.
Relief crossed her face for a brief moment before her expression settled back into determination.
