“You’ve got to help me find my baby!” Denise sobbed.
More help was requested, more people arrived within minutes. Six people searching now.
Still the storm raged furiously. Lightning, thunder . . . winds gusting strongly, enough to bend the searchers over double.
It was Taylor who found Kyle’s blanket, in the swamp about fifty yards from the spot where Denise had crashed, snagged on the underbrush that covered the area.
“Is this his?” he asked.
Denise started to cry as soon as it was handed to her.
But after thirty minutes of searching, Kyle was still nowhere to be seen.
Chapter 4
It made no sense to her. One minute he was sleeping soundly in the backseat of her car, and in the next minute he was gone. Just like that. No warning at all, just a split-second decision to jerk the wheel and nothing would ever be the same again. Was that what life came down to?
Sitting in the back of the ambulance with the doors open while the flashing blue lights from the trooper’s car illuminated the highway in regular, circular sweeps, Denise waited, her mind racing with such thoughts. Half a dozen other vehicles were parked haphazardly as a group of men in yellow raincoats discussed what to do. Though it was obvious they’d worked together before, she couldn’t tell who was in charge. Nor did she know what they were saying; their words were lost in the muffled roar of the storm. The rain came down in heavy sheets, mimicking the sound of a freight train.