Visions (Forest Secrets Book 1)

Chapter 11

The search party’s base was set up on the outskirts of the forest, twenty feet right of Carter’s house. Everyone was grim, but there was no doubt to the undercurrents of hope and excitement. These people wanted to find Carter, and under everything was the thought that they would find some knowledge—some clue—as to where he was. 

            I couldn’t help but feel sorry for some individuals. You could see on their faces that they planned on just walking into the forest and there he’d be, healthy and unharmed.

            I wanted to find Carter, but not here, and not like this. I’d seen too many cop shows where the search party did find the missing person, only the people found weren’t healthy and unharmed.

            They were dead.

            And Carter was not dead. He couldn’t be. I’d promised him last night that I’d find him, and I sure as hell was going to find him alive.

            “OK people, here’s how this is going to work…” a serious looking man in a bright orange vest stood with a mega phone, explaining safety rules, procedures, and pointing to the supplies that have been gathered by everyone.

            We all had to wear a bright orange vest, though I doubt there would be much game hunting near Carter’s house. Better safe than sorry though. We were to also go out in groups. That was a no brainer. Even without a kidnapper-maybe-killer on the loose, if you were smart, you never went out on an unmarked trail by yourself.

            And this was kind of an unmarked trail. We didn’t know the turns, or where it ended, but most importantly, we didn’t know what we’d find in between.

            Emily, Christine and I were all putting on our vest, discussing where we were going to start looking when someone came up behind us and cleared their throat.

            “Seems an odd place for a knitting club to meet,” Detective Reeve stood there smugly as we turned around. I wanted to slap him.

            No. I wanted to sucker punch him after I’d kicked his shins and wacked him in the face.

            So maybe my thoughts had turned a bit violent. After the events going on, I figured my body was just producing more adrenaline. I didn’t blame it, and after that run in with Carly—whatever the hell was up with her—I’d started thanking it. Problem was, now I was getting way too on edge, hence the violent thoughts.

            Which was why I was about ready to explode (at number two on the countdown) and would have torn the detective to pieces if his partner hadn’t stepped in to pat me on the shoulder and say, “Now, what’s this all about?”

            I started to cry.

            OK, so I was lying to myself and it wasn’t adrenaline putting me on edge but actually stress, and starting this morning, it was my time of the month.

            That accounted for the violence too.

            It wasn’t like I cried or was super emotional whenever my period came around. In fact, I was practically never emotional, except for a sporadic give of violence. And even the few times I’d been violent, it was just harsh words and a shove or two.

            It’s just…

            I was stressed, sad, hormonal, mad at the detective, and it was all just a little too much right then.