our best hope."
"You don't think we should continue searching like before? Covering every direction?"
Taylor shook his head. "We'd still be spread too thin-it wouldn't do any good. You've seen what it's like out there." He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, collecting his thoughts. He wished Mitch were with him to help make his case-Mitch was good at things like this.
"Look," he finally went on, "I know it's just a guess, but I'm willing to bet I'm right. We've got, what? More than twenty people now? We could fan out wide and cover everything in that direction."
Huddle squinted at him doubtfully. "But what if he didn't go that way? What if you're wrong? It's dark out there . . . he could be moving in circles for all we know. He might have holed up somewhere to take shelter. Just because he's afraid of lightning doesn't mean he'd know enough to move away from it. He's only four years old. Besides, we've got enough people now to head in different directions."
Taylor didn't respond as he considered it. Huddle made sense, perfect sense. But Taylor had learned to trust his instincts. His expression was resolute.
Sergeant Huddle frowned, his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his rain-soaked jacket.
Finally Taylor spoke: "Trust me, Carl."
"It's not that easy. A little boy's life is at stake."
"I know."
With that, Sergeant Huddle sighed and turned away. Ultimately it was his call. He was the one officially coordinating the search. It was his report, it was his duty . . . and in the end he would be the one who had to answer for it.
"All right," he finally said. "We'll do it your way. I just hope to God you're right."
Twelve-thirty now.
Arriving at the hospital, Judy McAden immediately approached the front desk. No stranger to hospital protocol, she asked to see Denise Holton, her niece. The clerk at the front desk didn't question her-the waiting room was still filled with people-and hurriedly checked the records. Denise Holton, she explained, had been moved to a room upstairs, but visiting hours were over. If she could come back tomorrow morning-
"Can you at least tell me how she's doing?" Judy interrupted.
The lady shrugged wearily. "It says she was taken in for an X-ray, but that's all I know. I'm sure more information will be available once things begin to settle down."
"What time do visiting hours start?"
"Eight o'clock." The lady was already reaching for another file.
"I see," Judy said, sounding defeated. Over the clerk's shoulder, Judy noticed that things seemed even more chaotic than they were in the waiting room. Nurses were moving from room to room, looking harried and overwhelmed.
"Do I have to stop here before I go up to see her? Tomorrow, I mean?"
"No. You can go in the main entrance, around the corner. Just head up to room 217 tomorrow morning and inform the nurses at the station when you get there. They'll direct you to her room."
"Thank you."
Judy stepped away from the desk, and the next person in line moved forward. He was a middle-aged man who smelled strongly of alcohol. His arm was in a makeshift sling.
"What's taking so long? My arm is killing me."
The clerk sighed impatiently. "I'm sorry, but as you can see, we're really busy tonight. The doctor will see you as soon . . ."
Judy made sure that the lady's attention was still focused on the man at the desk. Then she exited the waiting area through a set of double swinging doors that led directly to the main area of the hospital. From previous visits to the hospital she knew that the elevators were at the end of the corridor.
In a matter of minutes she was sailing past a vacated nurses' station, heading for room 217.
At the same time Judy was making her way to Denise's room, the men resumed their search. Twenty-four men in total, with only enough distance between them to allow them to see the neighboring flashlights, they stretched nearly a quarter of a mile wide. Slowly they began moving to the southeast, shining lights
"You don't think we should continue searching like before? Covering every direction?"
Taylor shook his head. "We'd still be spread too thin-it wouldn't do any good. You've seen what it's like out there." He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, collecting his thoughts. He wished Mitch were with him to help make his case-Mitch was good at things like this.
"Look," he finally went on, "I know it's just a guess, but I'm willing to bet I'm right. We've got, what? More than twenty people now? We could fan out wide and cover everything in that direction."
Huddle squinted at him doubtfully. "But what if he didn't go that way? What if you're wrong? It's dark out there . . . he could be moving in circles for all we know. He might have holed up somewhere to take shelter. Just because he's afraid of lightning doesn't mean he'd know enough to move away from it. He's only four years old. Besides, we've got enough people now to head in different directions."
Taylor didn't respond as he considered it. Huddle made sense, perfect sense. But Taylor had learned to trust his instincts. His expression was resolute.
Sergeant Huddle frowned, his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his rain-soaked jacket.
Finally Taylor spoke: "Trust me, Carl."
"It's not that easy. A little boy's life is at stake."
"I know."
With that, Sergeant Huddle sighed and turned away. Ultimately it was his call. He was the one officially coordinating the search. It was his report, it was his duty . . . and in the end he would be the one who had to answer for it.
"All right," he finally said. "We'll do it your way. I just hope to God you're right."
Twelve-thirty now.
Arriving at the hospital, Judy McAden immediately approached the front desk. No stranger to hospital protocol, she asked to see Denise Holton, her niece. The clerk at the front desk didn't question her-the waiting room was still filled with people-and hurriedly checked the records. Denise Holton, she explained, had been moved to a room upstairs, but visiting hours were over. If she could come back tomorrow morning-
"Can you at least tell me how she's doing?" Judy interrupted.
The lady shrugged wearily. "It says she was taken in for an X-ray, but that's all I know. I'm sure more information will be available once things begin to settle down."
"What time do visiting hours start?"
"Eight o'clock." The lady was already reaching for another file.
"I see," Judy said, sounding defeated. Over the clerk's shoulder, Judy noticed that things seemed even more chaotic than they were in the waiting room. Nurses were moving from room to room, looking harried and overwhelmed.
"Do I have to stop here before I go up to see her? Tomorrow, I mean?"
"No. You can go in the main entrance, around the corner. Just head up to room 217 tomorrow morning and inform the nurses at the station when you get there. They'll direct you to her room."
"Thank you."
Judy stepped away from the desk, and the next person in line moved forward. He was a middle-aged man who smelled strongly of alcohol. His arm was in a makeshift sling.
"What's taking so long? My arm is killing me."
The clerk sighed impatiently. "I'm sorry, but as you can see, we're really busy tonight. The doctor will see you as soon . . ."
Judy made sure that the lady's attention was still focused on the man at the desk. Then she exited the waiting area through a set of double swinging doors that led directly to the main area of the hospital. From previous visits to the hospital she knew that the elevators were at the end of the corridor.
In a matter of minutes she was sailing past a vacated nurses' station, heading for room 217.
At the same time Judy was making her way to Denise's room, the men resumed their search. Twenty-four men in total, with only enough distance between them to allow them to see the neighboring flashlights, they stretched nearly a quarter of a mile wide. Slowly they began moving to the southeast, shining lights
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