A whimper sounded beside him.
Hannah.
Get a grip, Layke. You’ve got this.
His head continued to throb.
Who was he kidding? His childhood fear came rushing back, and he pictured himself at the bottom of a freshly dug grave he’d fallen into while running away from his mother. They had come to tend to his grandmother’s headstone when he’d refused to help his mother replace the dead flowers. The cemetery scared him, and she had dragged him there against his wishes. He ran away from her, but didn’t see the unmarked grave and fell into it. Soil had toppled in on him when the groundskeeper found him. After that episode, nightmares of being buried alive plagued his sleep.
And now it was coming true.
He closed his eyes and rested his head. It wasn’t like he could see anything in the darkened vehicle anyway.
A hand touched his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Can’t breathe.”
He heard her inhale a mechanical breath. Then another.
Right. She was asthmatic.
And here he was stressing about not breathing. Get a grip.
He fumbled for his Maglite and turned it on, shining it at Hannah. “You okay?”
She nodded, but her wild eyes told him she too struggled to remain in control.
It was up to him to save them. He pulled out his cell phone.
No signal.
Of course, there wouldn’t be under the mountain of snow.
Think, Layke, think.
How long could they survive buried under this much snow? He took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. He could do this.
He remembered a tool he had stuck in the duffel bag before leaving the detachment. He popped forward. “That’s it!”
“What?”
“I need to get into the back.”
“Why?”
“Personal locator device I found at the detachment with all the other equipment. I packed it before we came. Just in case.” Now he had to get to it to turn it on.
“Is it in the back?”
“Yes.”
She unbuckled her seat belt. “I’m smaller. I’ll do it.”
He winced. “Your shoulder though.”
“Compared to being buried alive? I think it will be fine.” She climbed over the console and into the back seat. She pulled the seat down.
“It’s on the right side in the duffel bag.”
She shimmied through the opening.
He held his breath and waited.
Would she be able to find it?
If so, would the signal beacon be found under mounds of snow?
God, if You’re there, help us survive this. I promise if You do, I’ll give my life to You.
Could he really bargain with God?
“Got it!” Hannah crawled back through the hole and into the front seat. She handed it to him.
Thank You, God.
Now all He had to do was bring someone to rescue them.
“Okay, let’s turn this on.”
Hannah grabbed his hand. “Let’s pray.”
“Go ahead.”
She tilted her head. “What? No objections.”
“Not from me.”
She smiled and closed her eyes. “Lord, You’ve brought us this far and I refuse to believe You won’t protect us now. Bring someone to find us and help us locate the children. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
“Amen.”
She released her hold on his hand.
He turned on the device. The light blinked a steady rhythm.
Matching his heartbeat.
Questions jumbled through his mind. Would he get out of here alive? Would he find Noel and see Murray again? Just when he’d found them.
Hannah rubbed his arm. “What are you thinking?”
He rested his head back and turned toward her. Was this his moment of confession? He had to tell someone his secret. “Just that I wouldn’t get to know the half brother I’ve just discovered.”
“Will you tell me your story?”
“I’ve never told anyone my secrets. Not even my best friend, Hudson.”
She squeezed his bicep. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
Right then, in his mind, he threw his rule book away. He didn’t need it. He wouldn’t live his life etched in rules any longer. He’d follow his heart.
He placed the glowing flashlight on the dash.
“My mom started beating me when I was six years old.”
She snapped her hand back. “What? What kind of mother would do that?”
“I know. The first time was simply because I wanted to go to the park with the other boys and when she didn’t let me, I pouted. Something in her snapped. Then the beatings increased with every supposed bad thing I did. Didn’t pick up my toys, got a B minus, forgot to take out the trash. I couldn’t do anything right, so I stopped trying. I finally ran away when I was fourteen and lived on the street for a bit. That’s when I met Hudson.”
“What happened?”
“The police found me when I turned fifteen and took me back to live with my mom. She was filled with rage at the embarrassment I caused her, so she tried to hit me, but I stopped her. Hit her back.”
“What?”
“I know. I know. It was wrong and I never did it again. It made her stop though. She started going to church and became a Christian. However, I couldn’t bring myself to forgive her. Hudson tried to get me to go to his church, but I refused.”
“Then you went into law enforcement.”
“Yes. Shortly after I did a search for my father.”
“So that’s when you found him?”
“No. I couldn’t locate him. I gave up and concentrated on becoming a good cop. It was only after I moved to Calgary that I found him through one of those ancestry kits and—”
Could he go on? Would she think the sins of his father were on him?
“What is it, Layke? You can tell me. I heard you say he was in prison for murder.”
“Not just one. Multiple murders.”
She gasped.
He turned away from her.
“Not what I expected you to say.” She paused. “Layke, that’s not on you. You’re a good man.”
He turned back to her. The flashlight’s beam sparkled in her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Did you go visit him?”
“I tried this past summer, but he wouldn’t
