Free Flee the Night by Susan May Warren Page A

law.”
    Hank Billings at night didn’t look at all like the clean-cut, uniformed, glassy-eyed ranger Micah had met earlier in the day at Ranger HQ. Billings swaggered when he walked, and with his black jacket and cowboy hat, he looked like someone out of a Kevin Costner Western. “I didn’t say that.”
    “You did.” Sarah turned and Micah thought he saw smoke in her eyes. “You said, ‘What you folks are doing might be called going over the line.’”
    “Right.” Ranger Billings stared at her. “You’re jumping to the wrong conclusions, missy. I was inferring that you might be going overboard with your search. I put in a call to the local SAR team, and they said there was no one left at the wreck, that all the survivors had been brought in. You should be checking the local hospital, folks.”
    “I was there. Emily wasn’t.” Micah’s own tone—terse and on the don’t-push-me side of angry—startled even himself. He hadn’t realized he’d invested so many emotions into this search. Micah sighed. “We have reason to believe there is a six-year-old girl out here in her pajamas, freezing and lost. We were just headed into town to talk to the CERT and see if we could get them to do a call-out. I appreciate your checking up on us, but we’re fine. And all done here.”
    Hank Billings must have done time in the army. He stood six-foot-something and didn’t so much as take his eyes off Micah, let alone flinch. “Okay. Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t checking up on—”
    “Hounding us is more like it,” Sarah said, and both Micah and Hank stared at her as if she were a rattler reared back to strike. “You deliberately stood outside my truck and listened to me … my …” She swallowed and turned away, her arms across her chest.
    A smile quirked up Micah’s face. “You were singing, weren’t you?”
    Sarah had few cracks, but when they opened, she had only one fix—singing.
    “I like ‘Jesus Loves Me.’ Reminds me of my mama.” Hank shrugged, as if he had no idea he’d just seen inside Sarah’s heart.
    Micah slipped an arm around Sarah. What Hank Billings couldn’t know is that singing had saved her life once upon a time. “We could use some singing right now. A little girl’s trail has vanished. And only Jesus knows where she is,” Micah said gently.
    Hank looked at him, a frown on his face. “I’ll follow you into town. You might need some backup. Our team is pretty tired after the last two days.”
    Maybe Micah had misjudged the man.
    As Sarah stalked away, Hank’s gaze followed her. “I made her mad.”
    “Yeah. She’ll be okay. Doesn’t like people to see her soft side.”
    “She has a soft side?” Hank cracked a lopsided smile as he sauntered back to his truck.
    Micah watched him go, wondering if they’d have to shake him, or if he’d come in handy.
    “What’s the weather say?” Micah asked when climbed into the truck next to Conner.
    He was on the Internet, working his palm PC. “It’s going to get down to the thirties tonight.” Conner’s expression gave no hint of hope.
    Micah felt his chest knot while they drove back to their hastily set-up base camp.
    Fifteen minutes later, he got out of Conner’s truck, climbed into his own. “I reserved us rooms at the Tree-Line Motel. I’ll meet you there later. I need to swing by the hospital first.” The thought of Lacey’s eyes emptying of all hope in front of him punched a burning hole in his gut.

    Hospital visiting hours were obviously long over. The parking lot glistened under the glare of lights. The rain misted in their rays, evidence of the gloom beyond. Micah shoved his hands in his pockets and headed toward the doors, feeling his failures like Freon in his veins.
    He walked past Lacey’s guard, preparing to do some fancy maneuvering, but the man didn’t stir. Sunken in sleep, he looked like he no longer felt Lacey was a threat.
    The guard obviously didn’t know her like Micah did.
    Or did he? In