Doing It Over (Most Likely To #1)(56)

Jo’s words were hardly heard. “I hope not.”

“Jesus.” The memory of a high-profile case swam in his head . . . the outcome less than favorable for the missing child.

Melanie jogged up beside them. “Let’s go.”

Wyatt let himself be led away.

“I’m right behind you,” Jo told her.





Every five minutes felt like thirty.

Every ten felt like an hour.

And every hour felt like a lifetime.

While she choked back the tears, her fear was a tsunami inside her head. They were past the three-hour mark. Every ten minutes Melanie called back to the inn and asked the same question. “Anything?”

Deputy Emery stayed at the house with Miss Gina and instructed the new sets of volunteers on where to search. By now, River Bend was all but closed down and the townspeople combed the woods outside the inn in groups of five and ten.

“Hope!”

Her daughter’s name was called out continually.

Still nothing.

“Melanie, you there?”

Jo’s voice had her fumbling for the radio, her heart racing. She pressed the button and stopped walking as she talked. “Did you find her?”

“No. I need you back at the house.”

She tried not to feel the crushing disappointment of the call. “No. I’m staying out here until we find her.”

“Mel, I’ve called in reinforcements. K-9 units are here. I just need you to do a few things here and you can go back out.”

Wyatt saw her standing still and ran to her side. “Did they find her?”

Melanie shook her head, returned to the radio. “I’m on my way.”

She turned toward the inn and started to jog.

Wyatt kept pace beside her. “What’s going on?”

“Jo brought in the dogs.”

Sweat rolled down her back as she hit the inn’s deck completely out of breath.

The barking of dogs kept her jogging until she rounded the front of the inn.

Cars were everywhere. Two more squad cars, both from neighboring towns, were tossed into the mix. The sheer mass of them brought home the magnitude of her missing daughter.

Miss Gina saw them first and called into the house for Jo.

“How you holding up?” Miss Gina asked.

Melanie didn’t trust herself to speak.

Miss Gina lowered her head. “I should have kept a better eye on her.”

Melanie shot a hand in the air. “No. This is not your fault.”

“If I had—”

She jumped right up into her friend’s face. “This is not your fault!”

Melanie pushed past Miss Gina, saw Wyatt from the corner of her eye.

It’s my fault.

“Mel?”

Jo stood with two other uniformed officers, people Mel didn’t recognize.

“That was quick.” Jo wasted little time introducing the dog handlers.

“What we need is something of Hope’s that has her scent on it.”

“Like a sweater?”

“Only if it’s seldom washed. Stuffed animals, favorite blanket . . . that kind of thing is better.”

She ran upstairs and dived for the bed, found a favored stuffed toy, then searched a drawer for a ratty baby blanket that Hope often slept with, but always put away in the morning. Someone had teased her about it the year before when they lived in Bakersfield, and now Hope hid the thing and didn’t talk about it.

Melanie buried her face in it and sucked in a deep breath. It smelled like her daughter.

She shook her head and jogged to Jo’s side before shoving the items into her friend’s hands.

Jo turned and gave them to the men at her side.

“Perfect.”

Both officers had to be in their forties, one a little thicker than the other. They both had kind smiles and faces that didn’t tell her a thing. “We’ll find her, Mrs. Bartlett.”

“It’s Miss.”

The officer on her right—she’d already forgotten his name—nodded and walked from the room.

Wyatt walked in, a bottle of water in his hand. “Here.”

She started to shake her head.

“Melanie.” He thrust it into her hand.

“Fine.” She took it from him and swallowed half the bottle in one gulp before putting the lid back on.

“I should go with them,” Melanie told Jo.

“You should rest for a minute, catch your breath.”

Melanie ignored her friend and turned to leave. She wasn’t going to rest until Hope was back in her arms.

“Mel!” Jo attempted to stop her.

Melanie lifted her hand, middle finger in the air, and continued out the door.

Wyatt fell into step beside her.

“Are you going to tell me to rest?” she asked.

“Nope.”

She offered him a passing glance. “Good.”

“Officer Maaco?” Wyatt called out to the man pushing Hope’s blanket into the nose of a German shepherd.

Maaco passed a look between the two of them with understanding.

“Bella is one of the best, Miss Bartlett. Since your daughter lives here, she might explore the grounds for a little bit, but she’ll catch Hope’s recent scent.”