“However you want to do this is fine by me,” Jim said.
“I’ll have a deputy stop traffic in town now,” Brody said. “Sheriff McCoy will take care of it on this end.”
Mattie oriented Jim to the layout of the scene, pointing out the taped area where the vehicle had turned, the place Sophie exited the school bus, and how Robo had tracked her scent between the two spots.
Headlights pierced the darkness as the sheriff drove from the house. A passenger exited the car with him. Cole. The stress on his face caused the pain she’d been suppressing to flare. He came to stand at her side, the warmth from his body contrasting with the coldness she felt in her chest, while the sheriff greeted the sergeant.
“This is Dr. Cole Walker,” McCoy said, introducing Cole. “Sophie is his daughter.”
Cole stepped forward to shake hands with Jim. “Thank you for coming and bringing your dog,” he said, his voice low but solid, locking gazes with the rather intimidating sergeant. It was easy to see the strain he was under, and Mattie wondered how he was able to maintain his composure.
“We’ll do the best we can to find your little girl,” Jim said before turning away. “I’ll go get Banjo ready.”
Cole moved back to stand beside Mattie. Wanting to offer what little comfort she could, she did what she’d resisted earlier—she touched his forearm. Cole turned to her, his eyes haunted, and he shook his head slightly as if to say he couldn’t believe he was trapped in this nightmare. They both turned their attention back to Jim as he asked his dog to jump down from the back of the vehicle.
Banjo stood quietly in the light from Jim’s SUV, looking noble and ready to work in his red nylon tracking harness. He was a beautiful animal, with the black hair around his muzzle accenting his coppery-tan coat.
Jim patted him firmly on the side and then pulled him against his leg and rubbed him vigorously all over. That appeared to be Banjo’s signal that it was time to work, and he wagged his tail as he gazed up at his handler. Jim clipped a long lead onto the dead ring of the harness and spoke to Mattie. “We’re ready to rock and roll. You got a scent article for us?”
She took the bag from inside the pocket on her utility belt and handed it to him. Then she looked at Brody. “I’ll follow if you’ll take the lead.”
Brody nodded agreement and headed toward his cruiser.
Cole touched Mattie’s arm. “Can I ride with you?” he asked quietly.
His request surprised her. “Sure.”
He headed for the passenger side of her vehicle while Mattie exchanged a glance with the sheriff. Evidently he thought the arrangement was okay, since he didn’t protest.
“Detective LoSasso and I will set up the roadblock here. We’ll all meet back together when Sergeant Madsen has some answers,” McCoy said.
Cole waited beside her SUV until she got inside, and then he slid into the passenger seat. Robo turned away from watching Banjo to thrust his nose through the heavy-gauge mesh at the front of his cage to greet Cole. Putting his hand through the wire, Cole stroked Robo’s head and then turned to put on his seat belt. Robo bounced back to the side window again to get a bead on the other dog, and as Mattie shifted into gear and started to move the SUV into position behind Banjo and his handler, he continued to bob around, keeping the other dog in sight.
Cole sighed. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“I know. I can’t either.” Mattie touched the back of his hand, and he turned his palm up to grasp hers. They exchanged glances before he released her hand so she could return it to the steering wheel.
“I can’t believe I wasn’t there to meet her bus.” Cole’s voice sounded thick with emotion and self-blame.
“I know how your schedule can get. Things pile up during the day. Your kids should be safe on your property.”
Cole shook his head, and Mattie didn’t know what else to say.
The scene took on an eerie glow as the red-and-blue overheads lit dog and handler from front and behind. Brody drove out onto the highway and parked, while the sheriff headed east to set up a roadblock. Mattie waited, parking her vehicle where her headlights wouldn’t blind Jim and Banjo while the handler oriented his dog to the search, offering him the scent article and using a sweeping gesture to indicate the area around the highway.
At first Banjo backtracked down the lane, where Sophie’s scent was fresh, but Jim brought him back patiently, patted and praised him, and gestured toward the highway again. Banjo quartered the area in a methodical way, sniffing the ground.
Cole sat beside Mattie and watched in silence, tension radiating from him in waves. When Banjo moved into the ditch alongside the highway and started to go slowly toward the west, Mattie realized she’d been holding her breath. Exhaling, she watched Brody pull out ahead and then waited for dog and handler to get about thirty feet down the road. She pulled into the highway behind them, her headlights giving Jim the light he would need to navigate the ditch bank.
“Do you think he has a scent trail?” Cole murmured.
“We’ll see.”
Then Banjo surged forward, making Jim break into a jog to follow. Mattie’s heart did a two-step. “Looks like he got a hit,” she said. She continued to drive behind them, keeping about thirty feet away.
Silhouetted by their headlights, Banjo and Jim moved down the highway toward Timber Creek. A sideways glance at Cole told Mattie he was on the edge of his seat, his hands fisted on his door’s armrest and on the console. After about a half mile, and as they neared the city limits, Banjo stopped his forward progress and began to quarter the area, moving from ditch to asphalt and back again. Jim swept the area with his flashlight for a minute, and then he set a wire spike with orange flagging tape into the ground beside the road before they moved on. But after about twenty feet, Banjo turned back and started searching the same area again.
Mattie’s heart seized. She recognized the dog’s behavior—he’d lost the trail he’d been following with such assurance. Something must have happened at this one spot to make him lose his confidence. Giving the bloodhound time to work, she waited until Jim waved her forward.
After cruising up to meet him, she stopped and rolled down her window.
“He’s lost the trail, but I’m certain he was on it until we hit this spot,” Jim said, his breath causing vaporous puffs in the cold night air.
“Yeah, he did look confident about it back there,” she said.
“I marked the spot, because there’s a tire track just off the shoulder, right beside the asphalt.”
“The vehicle pulled off the road?”
“Some vehicle did. I don’t know if it’s the same one that was at the doc’s place, but we need to find out.” Jim gestured toward the spot he’d marked. “If the vehicle pulled over here, something changed to reduce the flow of air from it. Maybe a window was rolled down before, and he pulled over here to roll it up? Just a guess, but something decreased the ventilation enough to extinguish the scent trail outside the vehicle. I’ll try a little farther down the road to see if Banjo can pick it up again.”
“But we can be certain the vehicle headed west toward town?”
“That’s what I’d say.”
Mattie knew they were in territory outside of proven theory. But they were pinning their hopes on anything that would help them discover Sophie’s location, and that was all that mattered right now.
“I’m gonna walk him farther down the highway,” Jim said before leaving Mattie’s car to do just that.
She rolled up the window.
“We need to head up to talk to Gus Tilley,” Cole said. “He lives west of town.”
“Gus Tilley?”
“I already told Detective LoSasso about how he interacted with Sophie yesterday.” Cole described how Tilley seemed taken with Sophie’s storytelling. “He’s been acting strange lately, like he needs a lot of my time. Yesterday, I even wondered if he was hurting his own animals so he could get my attention.”
“Like Munch
ausen by proxy? With animals?” Mattie had never heard of it.
“It exists. But I’m not convinced he would hurt one of his animals, and they don’t seem to be afraid of him. Besides, he doesn’t fit the typical profile.”
“Which is?”
“A woman with a small pet, usually a dog.” Cole shrugged. “I don’t mean to stereotype, just quoting the literature.”
“I understand.” Mattie was thinking of what to do next. “Let’s finish up here. Stella and I can drive up to Tilley’s place, and I’ll get his permission to look around with Robo. If Sophie’s there, he’ll find her.”
“I’m going with you.”
That would be going way against protocol. “I can’t agree to let you do that. Let’s see what the sheriff has to say.”
“I’ll drive my own truck, show you the way. I’m going with you.” He’d obviously made up his mind.
“Let’s talk to the sheriff.”
Chapter 19
Sheriff McCoy told Cole that a civilian’s presence at an interrogation was unacceptable, and he wouldn’t allow it in his jurisdiction. Mattie understood Cole’s position, but she was glad the sheriff remained steadfast. They had no idea what they would find at the Tilley place—could be anything from an innocent man to a deranged kidnapper and child killer. Although Cole had proven himself capable of handling a dangerous situation before, she’d never seen him this distressed, and she didn’t want to worry about how he would react or how she would keep him safe.
Sergeant Madsen volunteered to take Banjo and continue the search for Sophie within the city limits. Sheriff McCoy stayed with Cole at his house and called in the crime scene unit from Byers County to photograph and cast the tire track that Jim had found. Mattie plugged Tilley’s address into her GPS unit, and they decided Stella would ride with her while Brody followed in his cruiser as backup.
Once they were on the road toward Tilley’s place, Stella broke the silence. “How are you holding up, Mattie?”
“Worried.” She glanced at the clock on her dashboard: ten o’clock. “We’re about seven hours into it now.”
“This is a strong lead,” Stella said, her syllables clipped. “In a perfect world, we’d find her at this guy’s house, telling him stories.”
The image made Mattie ache with longing. “Yeah.”
“Sheriff McCoy says that Burt Banks is still missing, and he’s going to put out a BOLO on him.”
Now other jurisdictions would be on the lookout for both Merton Heath and Burt Banks. “Good.”
“And the Heath vehicle should have been spotted by now if it’s out on the highway. I’ve asked the sheriff to divert the volunteers toward searching every trailhead and jeep trail around here. Maybe we can find him off road.”
“That’s good thinking.”
“We’re telling the volunteers not to approach him, but to contact us if they find his vehicle. There’s a large group starting tonight, and Rainbow is staying on duty to coordinate.”
Mattie nodded, grateful for the teamwork. Candace might be lost to the community forever, but there was still hope that Sophie could be found alive.
“I was wrong about her,” Stella said.
Mattie was thinking of the girls. “Who?”
“Rainbow.”
“Oh. Yeah?”
“She’s one tough cookie. She’s better at her job than I thought she could be.”
“She’s great at her job,” Mattie said. “Maybe a little unorthodox at times.”
Stella stared out the window. “But, you know, the way she dresses.”
“Hey, she’s allowed to wear civilian clothing the same as you. If she chooses to wear frilly things, that’s her prerogative. And that’s between her and the sheriff, since he’s the one who runs things. Rainbow grew up here; she knows this community, and most of them know her for who she is. She’s a great person to have on our team.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
Mattie didn’t want to talk about Rainbow anymore, and she decided to end the exchange. The conversation lapsed, and she shivered, her tight muscles seeking release. She tried to relax but couldn’t.
Tilley’s place was located about ten miles outside of Timber Creek in an area bordering the national forest, where an old Spanish land grant had been subdivided and sold as private properties. A few of the original log buildings, tumbled down and decayed, dotted the development, but many new homes had been built on five- to ten-acre parcels filled with trees, primarily cottonwood, pine, aspen, and spruce. Most of the homes were nothing fancy. Small log cabins, prefab houses, trailers, and doublewides. Sheds and barns marked each household, and either barbed wire, sheep fencing, or wooden fences delineated each boundary.
Mattie turned off the highway onto Soldier Canyon Road, which wound upward into the foothills, and she knew she only had a couple miles to go. It would be slow going, following the hairpin curves that led through the forest. She passed a few houses, scattered here and there. Most had lights still on, but a few were dark for the night.
A mailbox with the address painted on the side marked Gus Tilley’s place. He lived in a one-story log cabin that was still lit from the inside, although Mattie couldn’t see into his home. The view was obscured by some kind of film or substance on the windows. A bright light on a tall pole lit his yard, which had been left natural, covered in short buffalo grass and dotted with evergreen trees. Wooden corrals and a barn sat a short distance from the house, also lit by a glowing light on a pole. Silvery moonlight bathed a small meadow beyond, dotted with shadows and surrounded by forest.
Mattie pulled her SUV into the driveway and parked beside the house. “How do you want to work this?”
Before Stella could answer, Gus Tilley stepped onto the porch, a baseball bat cradled in his arms. A medium-sized brown-and-white dog pushed open the screen door from inside the house and scooted around Tilley to run into the yard. It barked and barked, all the time grinning and wagging its tail.
“Weapon,” Stella warned, though Mattie had already spotted the bat. “Wait ’til Brody parks.”
Taking the radio transmitter from its cradle, Mattie keyed it on and sent a message to Brody. “K-9 One to Chief Unit. Our subject is on his porch, armed with a baseball bat.”
Brody’s headlights lit her SUV as he pulled in behind. “Copy that. I have a visual. I’ll cover. Keep your distance.”
The dog circled their vehicles, barking but looking more like a greeting party than a guard dog.
Brody parked and opened his car door, while the dog focused most of its attention on Robo. Brody would be armed with a Glock 17 pistol that he could handle like an expert.
“Brody’s in place,” she said to Stella. “Keep your distance from the subject.”
“I’ll start the talking. Jump in if you want,” Stella said before opening the door and stepping out. When Mattie did the same, the dog ran up to her, wagging its tail and then flopping onto its back for a belly rub.
No resistance from this one, Mattie thought, noticing the dog was a male. She spoke to him in a friendly tone but didn’t lean over to touch him, and she kept her eyes on Tilley.
“Dodger, come here,” Tilley said, and the dog scrambled to his feet, trotting off to join Tilley on the porch. There he stood, now quiet, tail still wagging.
Mattie mirrored Stella, moving to the front of their car but staying well away from the porch. “Are you Mr. Gus Tilley?” Stella asked.
“Who are you?”
Stella introduced herself and then Mattie and Brody. “We’d like to talk with you for a few minutes.”
“How do I know you’re who you say you are?” Tilley asked.
Mattie thought it was a strange question. They’d arrived in vehicles clearly marked with Timber Creek County Sheriff’s Department emblems. True, Stella was dressed in plain clothes, but Mattie and Brody wore uniforms.
“I’ll show you my identification. I’m going to pull back my coat,” Stella said as she slowly did so. �
�My badge is clipped to my belt.”
Tilley narrowed his eyes and stared at it. “I can’t see it from here.”
“Put the bat down and we’ll meet halfway. I can show it to you.”
Looking at Mattie, Tilley gestured toward her SUV with the bat. “You got a police service dog in there?”
“I do,” Mattie said, noting his use of the specific term. “Do you know something about police dogs?”
Tilley nodded.
“As you can see, my car has a Sheriff Department decal on it. Deputy Brody’s car is clearly marked too. We’re the real deal. And we came to talk with you about something.”
“Go ahead and talk.”
“Would you put the bat down, so we can all relax,” Mattie said. “I’d like to show you my dog, but I can’t take him out of the vehicle if you have something he might detect as a weapon in your hand. You know how these dogs are.” Robo had a way of making inroads with resistant people, and Mattie intended to exploit it.
Tilley looked like he was considering her words. “I’ve been having trouble with someone hurting my animals lately. Can’t be too careful.”
So I’ve heard, Mattie thought. “I’m sorry to hear that. Tell us what’s been going on.”
“I think someone put a chip in Dodger’s ear.” The dog looked up at him, sweeping the porch as he wagged his tail. “And someone hurt my horse’s eye.”
“I could look into that if you want me to.” Mattie hoped this would lead to his permission to search the barn and outbuildings. “I noticed that Dodger seemed to trust us when we arrived. He acts friendly.”
Tilley looked down at Dodger, who grinned up at him in an open-mouthed pant, and she could tell that she’d made her point: if his dog trusted them, maybe he should too.
Tilley leaned the bat against the wall of the house and stepped off the porch. “I’ll look at your identification now,” he said to Stella.
Stella unclipped her badge from her belt and held it where he could see it. He examined it carefully, stepped back, and nodded. “Why are you here?”
Hunting Hour Page 18