by Jen Blood
“We’re not sure of anything right now, but my gut says no. Not that we could actually get close enough to do a damn thing,” she said with a frown. “Nobody’s out there with welcome mats. What we have checked so far has gotten us nowhere. Right now, all we’ve got to show for the trouble is swamp foot and a hell of a lot of tick bites.”
“What else has the family said?” I asked. “Do you have any information on where the girls were going? Why they were headed out in the early morning in light clothing in the middle of a rainstorm?”
“The Redfields aren’t exactly the talkative sort,” Wade said. He stooped to pet Festus, who leaned against the man and continued to drip rainwater on the wood floor.
“Which is why we’re glad you’re here,” McDonough added. “Dean’s said he’ll talk to you, and so far he’s shown no interest in anyone else. To be honest, I think this whole exercise will prove to be a waste of time at the end of the day. The girls probably got tired of swimming in their own gene pool and decided to head for open water for a change. Eventually, they’ll show up on the other side of the country and we’ll be done with it.”
“I don’t think so,” Cheryl said. “I’ve got a feeling they’re out there somewhere.” The words surprised me, given Wade’s counterargument moments before that they had most likely run away. “Of course, I don’t have much to back that up just yet. Just doesn’t seem like given their history and what they saw their old man go through a few years ago, they’d up and take off without saying something to someone.”
I hadn’t met Dean Redfield yet, so I had no way of knowing whether it was likely that his daughters had simply run off. There was only one way to find out. “All right, so let’s go talk to Mr. Redfield and see what he has to say about all of this.” I looked at Cheryl. “You mind getting my handlers up to speed? I don’t want them stepping on your toes, and they could use some guidance. Just send them wherever you think they’ll be most helpful.”
“Sounds good,” she said with a nod. Her gaze drifted to Jack and Rita, then the other law enforcement. Wade straightened, though Festus remained leaning against his calf. Cheryl’s jaw hardened as she returned her attention to me. “You be careful out there, all right? Tweedle Dee over there”—she nodded in the direction of McDonough—“doesn’t know shit, as far as I’m concerned. There’s something not right about this. And I’m not so sure the Redfields are the only ones at the heart of it.”
#
It was pouring again when I went back outside. The two news vans were still parked where they’d been before, a couple of reporters—one of them Jack’s blonde—and a cameraman huddled beneath umbrellas talking. They glanced toward me when I left the church, and I looked away in the hopes of discouraging any interest. It worked, since they went back to their huddle without incident. Apparently, I wasn’t worth their time. One thing to be grateful about today.
Meanwhile, Bear and Ren waited just outside the cargo van, beneath a canopy they’d set out to keep out the rain. The dogs all have their own rain gear: slickers that cover their bodies and keep out the chill, though I’ve never gone as far as the doggy rain boots I know some handlers like. In my experience, they just hinder progress in rough terrain—not to mention the time it takes for the dogs to get used to them. That means extra attention is paid to paw care, but ultimately I’d rather do that than try to keep track of a dozen K-9 Air Jordans every time we hit the trail.
“What’s the verdict?” Bear asked when I approached. I got under the canopy with him and Ren. Raindrops poured off the canvas roof in rivers.
“I’m going up to meet with the Redfield clan,” I said. “Cheryl will get you two started. She’s in charge while I’m gone—which means whatever she says goes.” Bear made a face. “Problem?”
“She doesn’t like me. She thinks I’m just a kid.”
“She likes you just fine. And you are just a kid.”
“Thanks,” he said with a frown. “That’s reassuring.”
“I’ll radio you as soon as I’m done with this Dean Redfield,” I said. “In the meantime, you can get out in the field as soon as Cheryl okays it. Tell her I said I’d like you to work the outer grid.”
“The outer grid always goes to the least experienced,” Bear said immediately. “I bet I’ve been doing this longer than half the people with VTK9. There’s no chance we’ll find anything if you put us out there.”
Ren shot him a look, clearly not pleased that he’d spoken up. I wasn’t all that pleased myself.
“There are twenty thousand square miles of forest we’re trying to search here,” I said, in the most reasonable, I-don’t-want-to-strangle-my-teenage-son voice I could muster. “These girls have been gone twenty-four hours already. They could be anywhere out here, and Vermont K-9 is already stretched thin. Which means I need you focused on what you’re doing, and I need to know you don’t have some damn-fool idea that you’re less important to this search than anyone else. Let’s try and keep in mind that there are two girls’ lives on the line here—this isn’t just an exercise so you can earn your next Boy Scout field badge.”
Bear considered the words in the stubborn way of seventeen-year-old boys the world over. “Yes, ma’am,” he finally agreed.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” Ren said, far more upbeat than my son. “You can count on us.”
“I know I can,” I said. “Just remember why you’re here, and you’ll be fine.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Jack emerge from the church with Wade and Cheryl. “Okay, I need to get going. I’ll radio as soon as I’m ready to join the search.”
“You sure you don’t need backup going up there?” Bear asked. Casper stood beside him, tail whipping back and forth and body quivering. The dog’s attention was fixed on the forest.
“I’m sure,” I said. “I’ve got Jack, and I’ll take Phantom with me. I’m covered, bud.”
Bear didn’t look completely at peace with the arrangement, and looked even less so at Cheryl’s rapid approach. Regardless, he nodded. “Stay in touch, okay?”
“Will do,” I agreed. “You too. Be safe.”
“Always,” he said. Ren nodded her agreement. I clapped him on the back since I knew a hug would be unwelcome—Mom, we’re working—and ignored a swell of fear that I knew could be premonition, but was more likely just the curse of every parent in the universe when leaving their kid to the world’s mercy.
I left the two teens behind and joined Jack and the others. One low whistle was all it took and Phantom was at my left side. Festus perked up at sight of her, but at Phantom’s glare the smaller dog gave her a wide berth.
“My team’s briefed,” I said to Cheryl. “I’ve just got the two handlers, but Bear and Ren know what they’re doing. Nobody needs babysitting.”
“I’m sure. You forget, I’ve worked with you all before—though not since your boy was not much bigger than Festus here. Give me a holler once you get done and you and Phantom can join up with me. One of my guys washed out earlier—literally. Mudslide,” she explained. “I could use a partner.”
“Sounds good,” I agreed. “What about you?” I asked Wade.
“There are still a few local families out here in these hills,” he said. “I’ll go talk to them, see if they’ve seen anything. Then I’ll check in with some folks in Shaftsbury, see what they have to say.”
With the logistics settled, Jack, Wade, Phantom, and I left in Wade’s Chevy Blazer, Jack and Phantom relegated to the back at Wade’s insistence, while he and I manned the front. The dirt road was slick with mud, four-wheel drive required for most of the trek. The higher we climbed, the darker it got, as though the trees were converging on us. It felt sinister and chilling, and I couldn’t deny my growing sense of dread the closer we got to the top of the mountain.
* * *
Chapter 4
BEAR WATCHED HIS MOTHER and the others ride off, then focused his attention on his own dog. Casper had been pacing and pulling at his leash all m
orning, eager to get on the trail. Bear’s mother’s dog, Phantom, was the kind of Zen dog who’d just let things unfold the way they were going to, but Casper would push it every step of the way. That bully nose of his was always going, his body perpetually on the move.
“Chill, Caz,” he said when the dog tugged on the lead yet again as they were trying to get their gear laid out and ready to go. The rain hindered progress and the cold chilled his bones, but Bear paid little attention to the weather. Not with a search like this on the horizon—especially not one with Ren.
“Someday he’s just going to charge off and drag you down with him,” Ren said. Her own dog, Minion, was also a pit bull mix—but a hell of a lot mellower than Casper. She was also two years older than Casper, though, so there was an excuse there. Regardless of Casper’s impulsivity, the dogs were two of the best Bear had ever worked with.
“He’s better once he’s working,” Bear said. “Put on his harness and give him a longer lead to run with, and he’s golden. He’s just got a little more energy than the rest of the dogs you usually see on the trail. Nothing wrong with that.”
Ren smiled. She had teeth that shone that much whiter against her dark skin, and eyes that Bear knew had seen too much in her short life. He understood about that kind of thing, though… It was probably why they got along so well.
They were interrupted at the approach of Cheryl Madden—a handler he’d worked with once or twice in the past, though it had been a few years. She stood even with Bear’s six feet, with gray hair mostly hidden under the hood of her yellow raincoat. She looked hearty and strong-willed, which in his experience was a trademark of lady handlers. She nodded to them as she approached the van.
“Jamie’ll be back shortly, but in the meantime she wanted me to brief you. We’ve got two girls missing over twenty-four hours now, both of them last seen leaving their house up on the ridge.” She nodded to a peak in the distance. “I’ve got eight teams already in the field. The woods here are dense, and conditions are shit—pardon my language,” she added, looking directly at Bear.
“We’ve heard worse, don’t worry,” Bear said. “How long have you been searching?”
“We didn’t get the call till last night, and conditions were too bad to come out before first light. We’ve been out here since five.”
“Any alerts?” Bear asked.
“A few false alerts, but nothing that yielded a damn thing. I’m not sure whether it’s the weather that’s screwing them up or just this particular stretch of forest, but the dogs are having a hard time sorting things.”
Cheryl’s own dog—a cattle dog, purebred by the look—sat at the woman’s feet, head up, taking in the proceedings. His mouth was open in a relaxed pant; a friendly enough dog, but Bear could already see the focus that marked a keen working dog. At the end of his own lead, Casper canted to the right, straining to get loose. Bear followed the pit bull’s gaze into the deep woods. Something had caught the dog’s attention, though Bear couldn’t say what.
“Chill,” Bear said, keeping his voice level. Casper glanced back at him, seemed to consider the command for a second, and reluctantly sat.
Cheryl watched the exchange and actually smiled. She took a step toward them, giving her own dog a visual ‘stay’ command, hand extended behind her as she walked away, palm out. That was all it took for the cattle dog to settle back on his haunches and wait for her to return.
“Handsome dog,” she said to Bear. She crouched in front of Casper, who was up on his feet again in an instant, body wagging. “What’s his story?”
“His name’s Casper,” Bear said. “He’s young, but he’s good at what he does—has a lot of heart, too. He can handle it out here.”
“Where’s he from?” she pressed. Bear knew what she was asking. Casper’s body was scarred, his ears docked so close to his head that Bear had to monitor constantly for ear infections. He wasn’t the kind of dog you usually saw in the field.
“There was a dog-fighting bust down in South Carolina about two and a half years ago,” he said. “Casper here was only about six months old, but he’d been used as a bait dog.” At the look of uncertainty on Cheryl’s face, he explained. “They’d use him to work up the fighting dogs—tied him and let the others go at him.”
Cheryl’s jaw tightened, compassion for the dog and rage for his past at war in her eyes. Bear knew the feeling.
“They were going to put him down—he was in pretty bad shape, and they figured nobody would want a pup with that kind of history.”
“They didn’t count on you coming along, though,” she said with a smile.
Bear blushed. Shrugged. “Yeah, I guess not.” He patted the dog’s head, and Casper’s tail whipped back and forth.
“With a history like that, I’d be worried about dog aggression,” she said. He saw her gaze flicker to her own dog before returning to Casper. “You keep him on lead?”
“When we’re searching, of course—but just so I can keep track of him, not because I’m worried how he’ll get along with others. I’ve been socializing him with just about everyone and everything I could from the day I brought him home. He’s been around pups, grown dogs, aggressive dogs, passive dogs… He’s good with all of them. Loves cats, goats, and babies. I’ve got no qualms about him starting anything, or even taking up the charge if somebody else does.”
Rather than taking his word for it, Cheryl put both Casper and Minion through a quick test to make sure they were as reliable as Bear and Ren claimed. Both dogs breezed through, and Bear tried not to look too smug when Cheryl acknowledged that maybe a pit bull could be a good search dog after all. He knew she wouldn’t really believe it until the search was over and done, though. That was fine—he was used to people questioning his dogs.
“So, are we ready to go?” Cheryl asked a few minutes later, once the games were over.
“Ready,” Bear and Ren said at the same time. He looked sideways and smiled at Ren, then got a little dizzy at the smile she returned.
“Then let’s get on with it,” Cheryl said. She surveyed the two of them. Bear’s stomach twisted, and he tried not to look at Ren.
“My mom said we’d be going out together,” Bear said, trying to sound casual. Cheryl eyed him knowingly, and Bear felt the color climb his cheeks.
She considered it. “You sure she’s okay with it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ren and Bear said at the same time. Ren caught Bear’s eye, and he tried to contain a grin.
“We know what we’re doing,” Bear said. “We’ve trained long enough, and we’ve gone solo before.”
“But you haven’t worked together,” Cheryl pointed out. “Especially not in conditions like these.”
“We can handle it,” Bear said, trying to keep the tension from his voice. Cheryl studied him, then Ren. Then the dogs. It felt like an eternity passed before she spoke again.
“You’ve got your radios?”
“Uh—yeah,” Bear said, almost struck dumb at the thought that she might actually go for it. “Radios are fine, dogs are set, gear is packed.”
“Check in every half hour,” Cheryl ordered. “And be careful. The forest service has gone through these woods and tried to get rid of them, but there are still a few animal traps set in the brush. Make sure you mind your dogs.”
“Anywhere in particular we should be watching for them?” Bear asked, unnerved.
“Like I said, they’ve been going through the woods to get rid of them. But there were a couple of active trappers out here years ago. They did their damnedest to cover these woods.”
“We will be careful,” Ren said. Bear nodded his agreement.
“Good,” Cheryl said. “Now, you’re covering the southeast corner of the grid. If the dogs alert, radio and one of us will meet you.”
“Got it,” Bear said.
He looked toward the woods. He’d had a bad feeling about this place from the time they had arrived. That wasn’t going away now that he knew they were going in, but he
’d had bad feelings before. There was something different about this place—that much was clear. Every forest he’d ever been in had its secrets, though. It never kept him from stepping inside. And this time, with a shot at being alone in the field with Ren… Well, he didn’t care what kind of vibe he was getting right now. Nothing could stop him from hitting the woods today.
* * *
Chapter 5
ABOUT THREE QUARTERS OF THE WAY up the mountain, Wade stopped the SUV and pulled into a dirt turnaround surrounded by trees. A red pickup was already waiting there, and I watched as Dean Redfield slid down from the driver’s seat and made his slow way toward me. He looked sixty but could have been a decade younger, which made me wonder about the Redfield clan as a whole. According to Jack, there had been ten siblings—two of whom had died at twenty-nine, nearly ten years ago. Had they been the youngest? Or had Mom simply started early and kept on having pups until biology put her out of business? In my own family, my mom had her first at seventeen, and didn’t have Clara until she was almost forty. As a species, it’s remarkable just how long humans are viable breeders. It’s not always good, but it’s certainly remarkable.
It was clear based on his appearance that Dean had once been a vigorous man. He looked like he’d seen better days, though, and I wondered if he’d been ill. His head was shaved, the flesh there deeply tanned and liver spotted. He was smaller than I’d expected, reaching barely to my shoulder, with arms and chest that I expected had once been thick and powerful. His arms were ropy and his chest sunken now, his face gaunt. His eyes were pale blue, his lips thin, and his nose slightly too large for his face. Despite the appearance of some physical weakness, he held a rifle easily in one hand, as though it were an extension of his arm.
As we approached, he nodded toward Phantom. “Put the dog back in the car.”