Home > Not Quite Enough (Not Quite #3)(42)

Not Quite Enough (Not Quite #3)(42)
Author: Catherine Bybee

She squeezed her eyes shut, felt a teardrop down her cheek. Desperate, she called Monica’s phone again. It rang, then voice mail picked up. “I love you, Mo. Please get this and call me. Please. I need you,” she sobbed. “I love you.”

Jessie dropped her hand in her lap and stared at the screen with Monica’s picture. Her laughing eyes and beautiful smile.

Jessie had taken the picture when they were searching for bridesmaid’s dresses for Katie’s wedding. What the camera didn’t show was the horrible dress Katie had made Monica try on. Katie’s taste in clothing was impeccable, but as a joke, she told Monica how much she loved the ruffled taffeta in pea green. It was awful. Jessie had snapped a picture when Katie informed Monica that the joke was on her. Monica had been so relieved and then oddly proud of Katie’s deception. She’d promised to make it up someday.

Jessie flipped through a few pictures on her phone. Most were recent and didn’t contain any images of her sister. But the further she dug, the more she found. All of them were full of life, love.

Now all she had was Monica’s voice on a cell phone.

Jessie called it again, listened to Monica’s voice. The pain in her chest threatened to explode.

She sucked in her lower lip to keep from crying out at the unfairness of anything bad befalling her sister.

Wait.

“Kiki?” Jessie called to the near empty house. Only Reynard’s wife was in the home. Their children had left with a grandparent the day before. Kiki remained behind.

Jessie jumped to her feet in search of the other woman. She found her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a crutch under her arm. “Kiki?”

Kiki turned around. “Did you hear something?” she asked, hopeful.

“No. But… what is Trent’s phone number? His cell number?”

Kiki told her the number and Jessie punched in the numbers. The phone went directly to voice mail. No ring.

Jessie dialed Monica’s again. Several rings, then voice mail.

“Her phone is on… still charged.”

“What?” Kiki limped slowly toward Jessie.

“Monica’s phone rings before the voice mail picks up. That means it’s working. And if it’s working maybe the cell company can narrow down where it is.”

Kiki’s eyes grew wide.

The skin on Jessie’s arms prickled with promise. Hope.

Her next call was to Jack.

“Hey, darlin’.” His voice was flat.

“Her cell phone is still working,” she said without a hello.

“What?”

“Monica’s cell still rings before her voice mail kicks in. It’s still charged.”

She met silence on the phone. “Jack?”

“Yeah, wait… are you sure it rings?”

“I’ve called a half dozen times. It rings five times then goes to voice mail.”

“Oh, damn.”

“I’m calling the service provider now.”

For the first time in days, Jessie had hope.

Monica didn’t finish the protein bar before she fell back to sleep.

Trent watched the rise and fall of her chest and prayed for the first time in years. They needed to get out of there… soon. He tried to keep her cool, changing her heat-soaked clothes with cooler ones soaked in the rainwater that dripped from above.

Every so often, he heard something above. He called out each time but didn’t hear anything in response.

When he realized that Monica no longer woke up when he yelled, gut-wrenching fear sank into his blood. He shook her awake twice, and was met with glassy eyes and her saying she wanted to sleep.

At least he understood her. That had to count for something.

As dusk fell on their fourth night, he attempted to turn on his phone only to find the device completely dark.

Hunger took the place of hope, and he sat next to Monica, and placed her head in his lap.

She didn’t wake.

Unable to stay behind at the house any longer, Jessie wore a raincoat and joined her husband. The cell phone company narrowed the phone to a few mile radius. The news came right as the sun set.

Ginger trotted alongside them as they walked along a forgotten road. Reynard had taken the Fairchilds on another road that led to a southern beach. The search and rescue team, Dr. Eddy among them, curled under their rain gear, using flashlights to guide them, and searched for any clue. The rain came in steady sheets now, making the search even more unbearable.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Jack protested.

“You’ve already said that, cowboy. Let it go,” she snapped at him.

She knew Jack was just trying to protect her.

“A little rain never hurt anyone,” she said softly.

He grasped her hand in his as they used the flashlights to light their way.

The radio on one of the firemen’s hips squawked. “Team one?”

“This is team one,” the man said.

“We’ve found the car.”

Jessie froze. Everyone stopped walking. Monica?

The man on the radio gave them directions to their location. Then the man said. “No sign of them yet. We’ve spread out.”

Gaylord, who’d surprised her in his quest to find Monica, was quick to jog alongside the rest of them as they ran toward the second team.

Jessie ran to the Jeep when it came into sight. There were dogs sniffing around the car and walking in different directions.

Reynard was first to talk. “Her phone is plugged in.”

Jessie glanced inside and then turned a three-sixty. “Where could they have gone?”

“They’re searching the shore below. The lagoon is secluded here.”

“Monica?” Jessie yelled at the top of her voice.

Ginger barked.

Somewhere in the dark forest, she heard search and rescue calling out Trent’s and Monica’s names.

Jason walked up to them, his breath short as if he’d run. “The beach is empty. Not even a shoe.”

“They have to be here somewhere,” Jack said.

Ginger barked again, excited over all the activity.

Jessie pet the wet fur of Trent’s dog, and fell behind Jack and the others as they spread out and called to the dark.

Trent jerked awake. His heart beat too fast, his head ached with a throbbing pain so intense his back teeth felt as if a tiny colony of ants had taken up residency and were chewing away at the enamel one layer at a time.

Monica slept in his lap, her body shaking with the fever that violently racked her body.

He stroked Monica’s hair, kissed her hot forehead. “Hang in there, angel.”

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