Page 6 of Dark Storm Rising

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I had no idea.”

“Oh, she covers it well. Hides it if she can. Doesn’t like people to know, I reckon. She’s still in the early stages.” The old man’s face crumples. “I’m afraid for her. There are so many trails in the area. If she took a wrong turn … there are cliffs up to the north side.” He falls silent, as if the thought is too unspeakable to entertain.

“She can’t have gotten too far,” I say, hoping to reassure him.

“I’m not one to ask for help, but I think I need it. With this snow moving in … I’m terribly worried.” Struggling to collect himself, Enos looks from me to Tomasetti.

“Of course, we’ll help you,” I say.

“Have you called the police?” Tomasetti asks.

He nods. “After checking the cabin, I ran back to the house and called the sheriff’s office. They’re going to send a deputy as soon as possible. But the person I talked to said there’s a big truck jackknifed on the interstate, and they’ve got a pileup to deal with.”

Tomasetti is already reaching for his phone. “Mr. Nisley, do you know if a Missing Adult Alert was put out?”

The Amish man stares at him blankly. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll check. Let me make a quick call. Hang tight.”

While Tomasetti talks, I go to the linen closet in the hall and bring a towel back to Enos and help him blot melting snow off his coat and trousers. “Try not to worry, Mr. Nisley,” I tell him. “We’ll find her.”

The old man can’t seem to keep his eyes from the windows, as if he’s desperate to continue his search.

“Kate.”

I look over my shoulder to see Tomasetti approach. “Deputies are going to be tied up for a couple of hours. They’ve got six vehicles involved in the pileup and multiple drivers with serious injuries.”

“We can’t wait that long,” Mr. Nisley says. “I’ve got to get back out there.”

Hearing the panic in his voice, I move to keep him calm. “Mr. Nisley, Tomasetti and I are in law enforcement. We’re going to do our best to find her. Try to stay calm.”

The old man nods, but his expression is a mosaic of foreboding. “Dank.”

“The weather’s not exactly cooperating.”

I look up to see Tomasetti frowning at his cell phone. “Snow squalls are moving in from the north.” He turns the cell toward us so that Enos and I can see the screen. The radar is lit up in red. “The wind has kicked up and the National Weather Service is calling for lake-effect snow with blizzard conditions.”

“Oh, no.” Enos looks out the window, then divides his attention between Tomasetti and me. “I know God is looking out for her; I know He will keep her safe. Even so, I can’t stop thinking that the only warm thing she had on was that raggedy old sweater she wears. I’ve got to get back out there.”

“Mr. Nisley,” Tomasetti says firmly. “I think it would be best if you stayed—”

“No.” He starts toward the door.

“We know what we’re doing,” Tomasetti tells him. “The best way for you to help is to go back to the house and wait for her there.”

The old man shakes his head. “She’s all alone, probably frightened, and cold. I will not cower inside and leave her to this storm.”

“You set foot outside that door and there’s a good chance we’ll end up looking for you, too.”

“I’m not as agile as I used to be, but I know every inch of these trails.”

Muttering an expletive beneath his breath, Tomasetti strides to the coat tree, grabs our coats, and passes mine to me. “Mr. Nisley, do you have a map of the area?”

“I do.” Enos hurries to the kitchen. “A brochure. An old thing we had printed a while back.”

While the Amish man rummages around in a drawer, I turn my attention to Tomasetti. “How bad is it?”

“Temps are below freezing and expected to drop into the twenties in the next hours,” he says in a low voice. “Windchill is in the teens. We need to find her. Fast.”