Home to Stay
Author
Kate James
Reads
15,8K
Chapters
24
Chapter One
SAWYER EVANS WAS in that languid state of semi-consciousness, waking from a restful sleep. It must have been the insistent chirping of a bird outside that had drawn him from his dreams. The muted glow of the early-morning light filtering in through the tent infused him with a sense of serenity.
As a single father and a professor of law, serenity wasn’t something Sawyer experienced frequently. He smiled as he remembered that he’d categorically rejected the idea of a weeklong camping trip at Cuyamaca Rancho State Park with his sister, Meghan, and their parents when Meg had first suggested it. He wasn’t the rugged, outdoorsy type, not by any stretch of the imagination. He thought of himself as the nerdy academic, more comfortable with his head in a law book than plodding up a mountain trail. He’d felt that way even before he’d left the San Diego County District Attorney’s office to teach, which he’d done to give him more time with Dylan after Jeannette abandoned them.
Three days in, and who’d have guessed he’d enjoy the experience so much?
And Dylan? He worried about his son becoming a bookish geek like him, and constantly encouraged him to play sports and spend time outdoors. But the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree with his kid. Dylan had to be the most studious four-year-old on the planet. Yet Dylan loved it here. He seemed to be in his element, despite this being his first camping trip. Dylan had been full of energy and enthusiasm ever since they’d arrived. And the exercise was doing him good. The fact that he was sleeping in, and without the nightmares that had plagued him the last couple of years, made Sawyer immensely glad he’d let Meg cajole him—maybe bully was a better word—into coming along.
Dylan was his life. He’d do anything for his son.
Sawyer rolled onto his side and tucked an arm under his head. He considered drifting back to sleep for a few more minutes as he listened to the sounds of nature and the gentle flapping of canvas...
Flapping of canvas?
That wasn’t right.
He bolted up and stared at the tent flap, unzipped and fluttering in the light breeze. He immediately shifted his gaze to Dylan’s cot. From this angle, and with Dylan’s form as slight as it was, he couldn’t tell if his son was in his sleeping bag. Sawyer wasn’t taking any chances. He scrambled out of his own bedroll and hurried over to Dylan’s.
The adrenaline rush had him gasping for air.
The sleeping bag was empty.
Sawyer burst out of the tent and glanced frantically around.
No Dylan. Anywhere.
It must have been just past dawn. The sky was tinged with the first weak rays of sunlight, and a hazy mist shimmered across the water’s surface. Meg and his mom, both early risers, weren’t up yet.
Where was Dylan?
Sawyer’s heart pounded so hard, he was surprised it didn’t slam right through his rib cage.
“Dylaaan!” he bellowed. “Dylaaan!”
His gaze was drawn to the small lake that their campsite edged, and his heart stopped.
“No. Please God...no,” he mumbled as he ran toward the water. He’d been teaching Dylan to swim, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have wandered into the lake and... No! He wouldn’t think about that.
“Dylan!” Sawyer shouted again as he waded in.
A hand latched on to his arm and tugged him back. Too big a hand to be Dylan’s.
He turned and stared into Meg’s huge eyes.
“Sawyer, what are you doing? Where’s Dylan?”
“I...I don’t know where he is.” He noticed his parents standing a few feet back at the edge of the lake. “Dylan wasn’t in his sleeping bag...” His voice cracked, and he willed himself to stay calm.
“Dad, dial 911!” Meg, obviously thinking more coherently than Sawyer, called to their father. “And the park ranger.”
As his father hurried to his parents’ tent, Sawyer shook off Meg’s grasp and took a few more unsteady steps into the lake. Other than the ripples he and Meg had created, the water’s surface was smooth as glass. No disturbance...no air bubbles. He turned and brushed by Meg, hurrying toward his mother. She, too, was looking anxiously about, concern furrowing her brow.
Sawyer yelled Dylan’s name several more times, then he, his mother and Meg stood motionless and quiet, hoping for a response. Only birdsong filled the silence until his father returned. “The park ranger’s on his way. The San Diego Police Department is also sending someone,” he said.
“Okay. Okay,” Sawyer murmured, trying desperately to think coherently. “Mom, you stay here. Wait for the ranger and the cops. I’m going over there.” He gestured vaguely toward the left. He pointed again. “Meg, you look in that direction. Dad, can you search back there, behind the camp?”
Not waiting for replies, Sawyer raced back to his tent, pulled on his running shoes, then took off at a run.
He had to find Dylan. The thought of his son alone in the woods, frightened, maybe injured, terrified him. He didn’t know how long Dylan had been gone.
Animals, including coyotes and mountain lions, inhabited the forest. He remembered reading in the guide book that the California mountain king snake lived in the park, too. He couldn’t recall if the book said the snake was venomous.
“Dylaaan!”
His voice was hoarse from shouting his son’s name. Occasionally, he heard Meg or his father calling out, too, but without response.
Never a response.
They had to find Dylan.
Tripping over an exposed tree root, Sawyer landed hard on his hands and knees. He pushed back up to his feet, absently brushed at the grime and the blood, and moved on.
He hadn’t bothered with his watch when he left, and he had no idea how long he’d been stumbling around in the forest. He was barely aware of the cuts and scrapes he’d sustained running through dense growth and falling a couple of more times.
An incongruous sound caught his attention. Was it a rustling in the brush?
He paused to listen and began to wonder if he’d imagined it.
Then he heard it again. It was his name.
His mother was calling him. Her voice was faint but distinct.
Elation surged through him. Dylan must’ve found his way back to the campsite.
“I’m coming, Mom!” he shouted and thrashed through the forest, running as fast as he could.
The thorns and branches clawing at his arms and legs didn’t slow him. He ran full speed in the direction of his mother’s voice. His muscles screamed and each breath was agony, but the thought of Dylan, safe and sound in his mother’s arms, propelled him forward.
What seemed like an eternity later, he hurtled through the brushwood bordering their campsite.
His energy gone, he bent over. Panting, trying to control his nausea, his eyes landed on his mother sitting at a picnic table. He swept his gaze around, searching for Dylan.
He saw his father and Meg talking to a couple of park rangers, but he didn’t see his son. Limping over to his mother, his voice gravelly, he asked, “Where’s Dylan?” But he knew the answer. Her tear-streaked face, swollen eyes and red nose said it all.
Dylan hadn’t returned.
His mother rose, took a couple of halting steps toward him and collapsed in his arms. He held her while she wept.
When had his mother become so frail? Bird bones, he thought, as she shuddered in his embrace. Over the top of her head, Sawyer met his father’s eyes. The torment in them was a reflection of what he felt himself.
One of the park rangers walked over. “Mr. Evans, we need to speak with you.”
* * *
SHANNON CLEMENS’S DREAM had finally come true. She was now officially a member of the San Diego Police Department’s K-9 Unit. Not on probation anymore, but a full-fledged K-9 officer, with her own specialization. It hadn’t come easy. She’d worked diligently for it.
The K-9 Unit was one of the toughest in the department to get into.
And she’d done it! For the last few months, she’d been conferring with the unit’s captain, Logan O’Connor, to identify the appropriate specialization for her and her police-service dog, Darwin. Well, now she was formally assigned to do search and rescue. She’d thought she might want to do explosives detection, but the incident at the San Diego International Airport half a year ago had helped her decide against it. Search and rescue presented its own challenges for her, but maybe it was destined that was where she’d end up.
She shifted her head on the pillow and watched the beautiful brown-and-black German shepherd lying on his own bed in a corner of her room. Darwin was only two years old, and was already showing exemplary skills and high detection accuracy. He was born in the Czech Republic, bred to be a service dog and had joined the SDPD K-9 Unit about the same time Shannon had. He was trained in tracking, building and area searches, article search, suspect apprehension and, like all dogs in the unit, handler protection and obedience. She was proud of Darwin, not just because she loved him, but because she’d been instrumental in his training.
Darwin moaned in his sleep and curled into a tighter ball. Shannon grinned at the way he’d tucked his snout under his tail.
She couldn’t believe that Darwin was assigned to her and she had her dream job. Here they were...partners!
When her cell phone rang, Darwin immediately looked up. Shannon glanced at her bedside clock as she reached for the phone on her nightstand. It was just after six.
“Clemens,” she said.
“Officer Clemens, this is Dispatch. I’m sorry to call you on your day off, but we have an incident at Cuyamaca Rancho State Park. Usually we’d send Officer Palmer and Scout for this, but he’s not available at present.”
Shannon swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Since Darwin had strolled over, she rubbed him behind the ears. She knew that Cal Palmer, the only other SDPD K-9–Unit officer who specialized in search and rescue, was enjoying a well-deserved vacation. He and his wife, Jessica, were due to have a baby soon, and they’d decided to take their two girls on a Disney cruise before the arrival of their new addition. They were on a ship, and there was no way to summon Cal back, even if the SDPD had wanted to.
“No problem,” Shannon said. “What’s the situation?”
“We have a missing child. Four years old. He reportedly wandered away from his family’s campsite. We don’t know how long he’s been gone, but the State Park Rangers don’t want to take any chances. They’ve asked for our assistance in finding the boy. They need all the help they can get to cover the twenty-six thousand acres of forest, should it come to that.”
Shannon was familiar with the park, roughly forty miles east of San Diego in the Laguna Mountains. She’d frequented it with her family and her childhood friend, Kenny, when she was younger, and now she liked to go hiking there. In fact, she’d run training exercises in the park with Darwin.
But a missing child...that was not what she would’ve wanted for her first solo search assignment.
She tried to ignore the cold dread that slithered along her spine and wrote down the particulars.
The missing boy was four-year-old Dylan Evans. His father, a professor at Thomas Jefferson School of Law. Shannon’s heart went out to the man. She was certain the last thing he would’ve expected when he went camping with his family was that he’d wake up in the early hours of the morning to discover that his son had somehow gotten out of their tent and disappeared. Dylan was potentially alone in a wilderness that was home to mountain lions and other creatures that posed a threat to a young boy’s survival.
Oh, she was well aware of the hazards a child could face in the park on his own. Time was very much of the essence.
“I’m on it,” she said and glanced at her clock again. “I should be there in under an hour.”
She didn’t bother to shower. While Darwin ate his breakfast, she had a toasted bagel, then dressed quickly. To get her chin-length blond hair in some semblance of order, she ran a wet brush through it. She retrieved her equipment duffel from the bottom of her closet and rushed down the stairs.
Ten minutes after she’d received the call from Dispatch, she and Darwin were in her SDPD-issue Ford Explorer heading to Cuyamaca Park. The adrenaline was pumping, a good thing, since it was blocking out the dread.
She could do this. She would do this.
A child’s life depended on it.
As she merged onto I-5 San Diego Freeway South, a moment of guilt had her wondering if she should’ve told her captain about Charlie. Would that have made a difference? Would it have kept Logan from assigning her to search and rescue? It was too late for second-guessing. She’d simply have to do the best she could.
When her phone rang, she answered it.
“Shannon, it’s Logan.”
Speak of the devil. “I’m on my way,” she assured her captain.
“Good. I knew you would be. I wanted to tell you that you’re up for this. You’re skilled and so is Darwin. Two of the best rookies I’ve worked with.”
She could hear the sincerity in his voice. The pep talk bolstered her confidence. “Thanks, Jagger,” she said, calling Logan by his alias. “I appreciate your belief in me.”
“It’s earned. Give me an update when you have something.”
“Roger that.”
She focused on her driving and soon she was passing through the entrance to the park. She checked in at the ranger station and was escorted to the Evanses’ campground.
Her stomach tensed as the site came into view.
A tall, rangy man, dressed in plaid shorts, a white T-shirt and wearing black-and-white high-top running shoes, sat at a picnic table. He had his elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands. She couldn’t see his face, but his dark brown hair was standing on end. His arms and legs were scraped and bleeding in places, and his T-shirt had a long tear on one side.
A woman, roughly the same age and with nearly the same color hair, sat huddled against him, an arm around his shoulders. Shannon wondered, as she climbed out of her SUV and released Darwin, why his wife—assuming that was who the woman was—seemed to be holding up much better than the man.
Shannon turned her attention to the elderly couple on the other side of the table. The man was holding the woman, who was crying silently. Obviously the grandparents. Shannon waved to a ranger when he noticed her arrival. He walked briskly toward her and quickly briefed her on the situation. They’d been searching for over an hour, and had found no trace of the boy.
Shannon knew—and not just because of her police training—that wasn’t good news.
The ranger pointed out the boy’s father and signaled for her to follow him.
“Mr. Evans?” Shannon said softly when they’d reached the picnic table. The woman looked up but the man didn’t. “Mr. Evans,” she repeated, more loudly this time.
When his head jerked up, his forest green eyes—an unusual blend of green and brown—bored into hers. Their intensity triggered an involuntary urge to step back.
He had a strong jaw, straight nose. Good features. He might’ve been attractive under normal circumstances. But right now, his skin was splotchy, his hair even more disheveled from this angle, his eyes red-rimmed and his lips compressed so firmly they were edged with white. He had an angry scratch on his left cheek, just below his eye. The desperation she saw in his eyes evoked memories of Charlie and nearly destroyed her composure.
Everyone’s attention was now on her and she had to maintain control.
“Mr. Evans, I’m Officer Shannon Clemens with the San Diego Police Department. I’m here to help find Dylan.” She had to give him hope. She could see he was barely hanging on. “We’ll locate him,” she promised. She prayed they could.
Because it was too disconcerting to keep looking into his tormented eyes, she shifted her gaze to the woman. “Mrs. Evans, your son—”
“It’s Ms.,” the woman corrected her. “I’m Meghan. Dylan’s aunt.”
“Okay.” Uncertainty formed a hard, tight knot in her stomach. She wished Cal hadn’t taken this particular week off—and that her first solo search and rescue assignment didn’t involve a boy nearly the same age as Charlie had been...
Shannon forced herself to stay focused, stay sharp. “Darwin.” She pointed to her dog. “He’s trained in search and rescue. Darwin and I will do everything we can to find Dylan. Before we start, I need your help.”
The father straightened. “Of course. Whatever you need.”
She took a deep breath to brace herself. “I require something that’s Dylan’s and has his scent on it, to get Darwin familiar with it. The more recent, the better.”
He lurched to his feet. “Yeah. Sure. His sleeping bag. He was in it before he disappeared.”
“Good, but I also need something smaller. Something I can take with me to refresh Darwin’s memory, if necessary. An article of clothing Dylan slept in perhaps?”
He clenched his hands, the knuckles turning white. “He... He’s wearing the clothes he slept in.”
Twelve years later, she still remembered that all-consuming, devastating feeling of having a loved one go missing. Maybe it was wrong, but Shannon touched his arm. “Let’s see what there is in the tent that we can use,” she said gently.
She settled on a pair of socks that had been stuffed into Dylan’s sneakers. When the father said that was the only pair of shoes he’d brought for Dylan, she made a mental note to consider how far the boy could’ve wandered without shoes.
To be on the safe side, Shannon also took the T-shirt Dylan had worn the evening before and a picture the father had in his wallet.
Again she laid an encouraging hand on his arm. “I promise we’ll do everything we can to find your son.”
