Silent Night by Colleen Coble Page B

had felt a crushing need to do something. In her case, there had been nothing to do but try to move on. With any luck, Donovan probably would not be in that situation.
    She shook her head as she took the jackets from his hand. “You have to stay close to base, Donovan. The kids will be scared when we find them, and you’ll need to be in a position to get to them quickly when they’re found. Try to stay calm. We still have several hours before sunset. We’ll find them.”
    Donovan nodded, but his gaze flickered from Bree to Naomi with a naked appeal in his eyes. “I want to do something.”
    “Pray,” Naomi advised.
    His eyes squeezed shut. “I started that as soon as I learned they were gone,” he whispered.
    Naomi’s answer to everything was prayer. Prayer had done little for Bree’s own desperate pleas. What use was a God like that?
    “Let’s go,” Bree said.
    As they approached the tree line, a slim, feminine figure stepped out of a stand of jack pine and came toward them. Bree lifted a hand in greeting. She should have known her sister-in-law wouldn’t be far from the action. She craved media attention the way the mine owners craved cheap workers.
    Hilary Kaleva pushed aside the branches barring her way into the clearing as though they were a personal affront. Hilary, Rock Harbor’s mayor, was having the mother of all bad-hair days. Her hair, blonde like her brother Rob’s, was swept up in a formerly elegant French roll, but strands loosened by tree branches now clung damply to her neck. Streaks of mud marred her navy suit, and bits of pine needles clung to the fabric.
    “It’s the poodle,” Naomi muttered to Bree. “I’m out of here. I’ll wait with the rangers.”
    “Coward,” Bree murmured. She wished she could laugh. Rob used to call Hilary his “poodle sister,” which Hilary found less than amusing, but Bree and Naomi had always thought the description apt. Hilary could be sweet and loving one moment then turn and bite without provocation. And she talked until Bree grew weary of listening. But she could be just as endearing as a poodle when she wanted to be. From the expression on her face, today wasn’t one of those days.
    Samson woofed at Hilary in greeting and strained at the leash to meet her. The mayor flinched at the sniffing dog, pulling away with a moue of distaste. As if sensing Hilary’s animosity, Samson lurched toward Hilary then came alongside Bree and rubbed his nose against her knee. Bree tugged him farther away from her sister-in-law. No sense in upsetting her.
    Hilary’s scowl eased when Bree pulled the dog a safe distance away. “What are you doing here? I thought you were searching the northeast quadrant today.”
    Bree’s smile faltered. Hilary always managed to drain her confidence with a relentless determination to bend her to her will. “I was home when the call came in. The brick is crumbling on the tower, and it seemed like a good day to repoint it. I was just about to mix the mortar when Mason called.” Bree stopped and chided herself for babbling like a kid caught playing hooky. Maybe it was time they both realized Rob’s plane might never be found. Not in the northeast quadrant or any other. The forest had swallowed the Bonanza Beechcraft like Superior could swallow a sinking ship.
    Hilary’s eyes flashed. “You have more important things to do than to repoint the brick on your lighthouse. Let a professional do it.”
    “The last time I checked, my bank balance was screaming for mercy, Hilary.”
    Hilary sighed, and she gave a smile that seemed forced. “I’ll pay for it. You promised you’d find them, Bree. It’s been nearly a year. Rob’s birthday is the day after Thanksgiving. I’m counting on giving him a decent burial by then.”
    Bree wanted to run away from the admonishment. The graves at Rock Harbor Cemetery were as empty as her heart. Even if she found the bodies to fill those graves, it wouldn’t change things, but at least maybe then