Virtually Timeless Read online

  The mystery would have been much easier to unravel had their parents not taken off seven years ago on what the twins deemed a midlife crisis whim and joined Doctors Without Borders. Though Sydney saw the selfless work as admirable, she feared the work too taxing and dangerous for her aging parents. Learning the couple went missing, the twins dropped everything to mount a search, but after combing the area for six months, they conceded their parents fell victim to foul play.

  The thought of losing her brother, too, put Sydney into a controlled panic. The only family left, Noah became her rock. He grounded her, and though she was confident and independent on her own, Syd’s twin connection assumed top priority. After pinging his phone GPS— an app they both downloaded as a safety measure after their parents went missing— she knew his device was somewhere on their new property, but that detail didn’t confirm Noah’s location, or if he was hurt and needed help. The last time they talked, he’d said he intended to hike the grounds, which included fifty acres of mountainous terrain. What if he lost the phone along the way? That would explain why he hadn’t called… but would he take twenty-four hours to get back to the homestead? Then again, the house had no landline… but wouldn’t Noah drive into town to at least call her––if not replace his phone?

  Too many questions with no answers. Sydney adjusted the seat backward and glanced at her watch. Just past 10:00 a.m. The flight landed at Hartford shortly after noon. By the time she picked up her rental car and drove the ninety-minute route to Sharon… she wouldn’t get to the property until 3:00 p.m. at the earliest. According to Noah, the sun set at 4:30, which meant she’d have less than an hour and a half to follow the GPS signal and find his phone… half that if she expected to get back to the house before dark. A swirl of adrenaline flushed into her stomach at the thought of the seemingly impossible task. Regardless of the time, daylight, or the terrain and wild animals surrounding Sharon Mountain, she wouldn’t leave until she found Noah. With any luck, she’d find the GPS signal close to the house. Her thoughts flew to her carryon as she mentally listed equipment she’d need compared to what she brought. A Tak flashlight… check… but basic rescue gear or a medical kit… no. She prayed she wouldn’t need those items.

  Glancing at her watch, she bit the tip of her fingernail, frustrated at how much daylight the flight stole from her search. Simply sitting idle when Noah needed her agitated her. What could she do now to save time? Mental to-dos interspersed with flashes of what-ifs spun through her thoughts. To force back the latter, she opened her laptop and studied the property plat, noting the location of the house, Indian Lake Creek, the base and peak of Sharon Mountain and trails weaving in and out of the dense forest areas. Pulling up Google Earth, she entered the address and compared the plat and boundaries to the map then switched to 3-D view and studied the topography, noting the elevation highs and lows.

  The property was really close to the Appalachian Trail. She hadn’t noticed that fact before. “Dear God, Noah. I hope to hell you aren’t lost.” Wandering in the dense forest somewhere… with no phone and no means of knowing which direction to head, he could hike in circles, which was better than the scenario she desperately wanted to block from her thoughts… a vision of Noah lying alone and hurt––or worse––in some ravine where she might never find him. A jolt of panic pinched her chest, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

  Chapter 3

  The sun hung low in the afternoon sky as Sydney turned onto a long dirt road, the final stretch of her journey. Had she not been searching for the lone mailbox perched on the side of Route 7, she would have certainly missed the turn. Gravel crunched under her tires as the hard-packed dirt trail meandered through woods, twisting and turning, then narrowing onto a one-lane bridge over Indian Lake Creek. She pressed a button to roll down a window. A soft breeze blew through the hardwoods, stealing lingering leaves and tossing them into a colorful cascade as they drifted to the ground, while the sunlight danced between the shadows. A beautiful display Sydney would normally stop to watch, but not today. For now, every minute passed meant fewer she had to find her brother.

  As she reached the home her mysterious aunt bequeathed to the twins, her senses heightened. The house––a dark sage green, frame home with white trim––had a screened porch across the front and two floors. The upper level appeared to have pitched ceilings. The small, well-kept dwelling had a patio to the left with a grill and a wooden picnic table. To the right, she saw a chimney and a shed painted to match the house beyond. The landscaped grounds looked neatly maintained with flower beds and stone accents surrounding a plush grass lawn dotted with ornamental shrubs and trees that fed into woods. All in all, a lovely home nestled into the foothills of a mountainous stretch of land.

  No garage or carport. The road simply ended several yards from the structure. After parking the car next to another rental––presumably Noah’s––Sydney shoved open the driver’s side door, tucked the keys and phone into her jeans pocket then stretched, scanning the grounds and half-expecting to see some sign of a struggle or disruption. Observing nothing unusual, she peeked into the other vehicle before grabbing her bag and shoving closed her car door. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she cautiously approached the house, glanced through a window then walked around to the back yard. “Noah?” Not that she expected a reply, but her heart skipped a beat when she heard nothing more than the rustle of animals in the underbrush and a few birds chirping.

  She tested the backdoor, turning the knob. When it easily opened, again she called out, “Noah, are you here?” No reply. Her heart pounded. How many times had she entered a home or office, not knowing what she’d find on the other side? But this situation was different. Way different. Now, her twin’s life hung in the balance. She crept into the kitchen. Pulse racing, she glanced at the countertop. Everything looked neatly placed as she would expect. Despite her brother’s love for cooking, he never left dirty dishes or counters unwashed. His medical training saw to that. So, this spotless kitchen was nothing out of the ordinary.

  When she entered the family room, she saw car keys on the table and his jacket on a chairback. Finally, a sign her brother had, in fact, been here. She climbed the stairs to a pitched ceiling loft with a king-size bed and a rocking chair that held his open suitcase. Again, she called out, “Noah. Where are you?” Knowing her brother had spent a night here and told her he planned to walk the property, she expected no reply. But seeing no sign he returned from his hike sent a chill prickling up her back.

  Heart thumping hard against her chest, she checked her watch––3:17. The stark reality smacked her in the gut. Roughly an hour and ten minutes of daylight left to find Noah. She flew down the stairs, snatched his jacket from the chair and bolted outside. Retrieving her iPhone from her jeans pocket, she pulled up the GPS app, pinged his phone then headed into the woods toward the signal.

  The cool November breeze made her acutely aware the temperature here was far colder than the seventy-degree Atlanta she left this morning. Her brother’s jacket swallowed her, and though she wished he’d taken the wrap with him, she was glad to have it around her with the dropping temperature.

  Several paths weaved in-and-out around her, but she plowed through underbrush, rationalizing a straight line drew her faster toward her target. Still, that method could prove to be far more dangerous. Kicking up whatever lay beneath the dead leaves could stir a snake or animal she didn’t want to poke. Lord only knew what roots or fallen branches she might trip over. On the other hand, she had no idea where those paths led. Keeping a direct course made more sense.

  Standing on a knoll overlooking a hollow, she held her smartphone upward to acquire the best signal possible. By all indications, she stood on the source. Her pounding heart beat so hard in her ears the murmurs of nature muffled. Birds chirping their sweet songs, squirrels rustling through fallen leaves or chasing each other as they bounded from branch to branch, and the wind whispering through lingering leaves fell silent into the distance. S
eeing no sign of Noah or his phone, she stared at her own device. “Call Noah,” she whispered, while her worst fears snaked down her spine and coiled in her stomach.

  When his phone rang with the familiar tune, Odessa’s I Will Be There, Sydney scrambled down the embankment toward the music. She stuffed her own phone into the jacket pocket then zipped it closed. Frantically searching through the undergrowth, she fell to her knees and pushed aside foliage, stretching her reach until her hand finally slid across the cool, damp surface. She clenched a hand tightly around the case and tugged against the prickly vines trapping it beneath the creeping plants. With her free hand, she snatched a handful of ivy and ripped the tiny tentacles until they gave way. She clutched the phone to her chest. Threatening tears escaped as she breathed in a sigh of relief. She blinked them away then stared at Noah’s phone. A smear of dried blood brushed across the screen jolted her heartbeat to a racing pulse. “Noah.” Her cry echoed through the silence.

  Hearing a rustle behind the vertical foliage in front of her, she dug through more vines and underbrush, revealing a mysterious rock structure. Hidden from sight by what Sydney deemed at least a century of woodland growth, the moss-covered stacked stones created a cave-like formation. Obviously man-built, perhaps the cavern was an old root cellar. Could Noah have crawled inside for protection? The thick shrubbery made her dismiss the thought. She had to check every possibility.

  Again, she tugged on the vines. Hearing another swoosh from within, she called to her brother. “Noah, are you in there?” Cautiously, she edged into the dark cavern, covering her nose at the musky, foul stench threatening to take away her breath. Having no time to wait until her vision adjusted to the dank obscurity, she pressed the flashlight on Noah’s lock screen. The stark illumination triggered a flurry of fluttering wings as a black swarm of bats darted toward Sydney. Instinctively, she dropped her bag, and her arms flew upward to block the attack. Yanking Noah’s jacket over her head, she lost her balance and fell against the cold rock wall, knocking loose several stones that fell to the ground beside her.

  Hovering in a crouch, she shined the light from beneath her coat tent to inspect her surroundings. The floor, made of what looked like a solid sheet of rock, showed signs of a campfire, a pile of ash and the remains of burned wood. The phone light glinted off something metallic. She brushed at the fallen wall stones crumbled beside her to see a golden amulet that shimmered with the reflecting light. She reached for the bauble, blew off the surface dust then ran a thumb over the deep blue stone. Six small diamonds encircled a sapphire embedded into the center, all surrounded by a golden ring. She inspected the intricately etched design cut into the metal.

  Hearing the barrage of bats reduce to an occasional flutter, Sydney stood and flashed the fading light around the room. Despite her raging curiosity, she had to keep Noah as her priority. She snatched her bag and turned toward the opening. After stuffing the amulet and phone into a jacket pocket, she zipped it closed and continued her search.

  From the hollow, she scanned the woods. Twilight now blanketing the forest, she glanced at her watch––4:20 p.m. With only moments before sunset, she had little time to prepare for the darkness creeping over the forest. At nightfall, these woods held far greater danger than a swarm of bats… but knowing Noah might be injured, nothing would stop her from finding him.

  Reaching into her bag, she grabbed her Tak light, then hiked down the ridge, checking side-to-side for any sign of her brother. Water rushed in the distance, telling her Indian Lake Creek was close. Not only could she follow the river back to the house, she knew the sound would draw Noah toward the river, too… especially if he was injured. The twins had learned a lot of survival tips and tools during the search for their parents. One now screamed through her thoughts––the scent of blood attracts wild animals, especially when searching for a meal. Oh, dear God. The smudge of blood on Noah’s phone. An insidious vision of her injured brother fighting-off a pack of wolves sent a fiery rush up her arms to the base of her neck.

  Chapter 4

  “Who are you?” Her voice echoed through the hollow.

  Straining his eyes to see, Noah searched for an image to match the voice. He twisted toward the source, immediately wincing at the throbbing pain reverberating through his head. Reacting, he lifted a hand to his forehead and brushed his fingers across a sticky, gaping wound. He cringed at the touch. What the hell happened? Where was he? Confused, he challenged his memory but the intense ache throughout his entire body demanded his attention.

  “You’re hurt.” The girl edged closer. “Maybe I can help. Let me take a look at your wounds.”

  He angled his ear toward her voice. Squinting to focus, he stared at the fuzzy image. As his vision adjusted, he watched her silhouette slowly take shape, but he didn’t recognize her. Who was this girl? Palms pushing against the ground, he attempted to sit but his trembling arms gave way.

  “Don’t move until I can stop your head from bleeding.” She gazed around the area. “Is that your backpack?” She pointed into the forest behind him. “A green pack on the bushes several yards up the knoll.” She paused. “No matter. The bag might have some bandages I can use to dress your wound.” She stood. “Please. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Rustling through leaves, she strode away from view but stayed within hearing distance.

  Again, Noah reached for his forehead, this time wiping away oozing blood. He scratched at some dry dribbles on his cheek and scraped off the clotted fluid caked under his nose and mouth. The salty, metallic taste turned his stomach. Head to the side, he spat the briny sputum drooling from his swollen lips. Good God. Had someone beaten him?

  Rolling to his side, he inspected the area to get his bearings. Nothing looked familiar, but his muddled thoughts began to fall into place. The cool, crisp Connecticut air, the woods, and the sound of rushing water in the distance. This property belonged to his aunt. He and Syd inherited the homestead along with an enormous tract of land.

  Syd. How long had he been unconscious? He’d promised to call her with an update when he returned from walking the property perimeter. Patting his clothing, he searched for his phone but came up empty-handed. Damn. He must have lost the device when he fell. As he chronicled what he last remembered, his memory flooded back.

  The late afternoon sun meant darkness would soon consume the forest. He had no time to waste. Head still swimming, he forced himself to sit then gazed around. Watching the girl rummage through his backpack, again, he challenged his memory. Loose hung jeans, a T-shirt draped off one shoulder, tousled long blonde hair––the young girl he rescued from a savage thug.

  Zipping the backpack, she flung the bag over her shoulder and hiked down the mountain side. Glancing toward him, she froze. “I don’t want any trouble. Just stay there and I’ll be on my way.”

  Odd comment when she’d knelt beside him, inspecting his wounds only a few minutes earlier. But in truth, she didn’t know him. “My name is Noah Monaco. I own this property. What’s your name?”

  “I’m not trespassing. I saw no signs.”

  He smiled. “Don’t worry. I don’t care a bit about trespassers. But I think you’ll find a small first aid kit in my backpack there. I could use a few Band-Aids.”

  She frowned and clutched the bag to her chest. “How would you know what’s in my backpack?”

  Mentally reeling possible diagnoses, Noah noted her sketchy memory. To learn more and calm her anxiety, he needed to play along.

  Her expression and subsequent gesture reminded him of his childhood puppy––she stared, her head shifting first right then left.

  Slowly, she stepped closer. “You do look injured, though. Maybe I can help.”

  Something about this girl niggled at Noah. Her strange behavior, acting as if she’d never seen him before, sent an unsettling chill rushing down his arms. “Thank you…uh…what did you say your name was?”

  She paused, offering an inquisitive stare. “Brooke.” She gazed around. “Brooke…
Hollow… way. That’s my name. Brooke Holloway.”

  “Nice to meet you, Brooke.” He held out a hand. “Do you think I can have a few of those bandages in your backpack?”

  Gaze fixed on Noah, she opened the zipper and dug through the bag. “I suppose I could dress your wound.”

  “Thanks. I could use your help.” Brooke Holloway? The name meant nothing to Noah, but the girl’s comportment intrigued him on a much deeper level than he could explain.

  She strolled forward, studying him with every step, then she knelt and attended to his wounds.

  “You should find some ibuprofen and a water bottle in your bag. My headache is killing me. Can I have a couple of tablets?”

  “When I’m done.”

  The way she cleaned his wound and manipulated the bandages, Noah sensed she had at least some medical training.

  When she completed the task, she drew out two tablets and an empty bottle of water. “Sorry. The canteen is empty.”

  Canteen? The term let him know she had a military background. “Thank you.” He took the pills and forced them down his dry throat.

  “Your head looks pretty bad. I could have cleaned it better if we had more water.”

  Straining his neck, he held up his index finger. “Shh. Listen. Sounds like the river is just over that ridge. If you could help me get there, you could clean my wound a bit more.”

  She stood and turned toward the whooshing sound. “You’re right. Now that you mention it, I can hear rushing water. Maybe it’s a waterfall.

  In truth, he knew getting to the river alone in his condition would be a challenge. He needed this woman’s help. No phone meant more than the inability to call his sister, or 911 for that matter. Without his phone he had no GPS and little chance of getting back to the house or close to civilization. But beyond that, this girl piqued his intrigue, as if she was a riddle, begging to be solved. He grabbed the knapsack and, with effort, slung it over his shoulder. “Can you help me stand?”