by Jen Blood
I let Phantom get a good whiff of the items Dean had given me: a pair of Melanie’s underwear—small, black lacy things that were completely at odds with our surroundings—and Ariel’s T-shirt, the words “TRAIN OR DIE” written in block letters across the front.
“Find it, Phan,” I said. While she was used to searching off-leash, Wade had warned me about bear traps in the area. That, combined with the density of the woods and the number of other searchers out here, convinced me she’d be better on lead this time out. She looked put out for a second when I didn’t unclip her leash, though—she’s a much happier dog when she doesn’t have to drag me behind her.
She remained rooted to the spot for a moment, her head raised as she scented the air.
Seconds passed. I thought briefly that she might never pick up the trail—that we would be left standing there, the whole of the Redfields’ extended family looking on while I was forced to tell them that apparently Ariel and Melanie had vanished into thin air.
Thankfully, that didn’t happen.
About thirty seconds in, Phantom’s body stilled. Her gaze sharpened, nose up, and she looked to the north, toward the steep incline on which the house had been built. She glanced at me to make sure we were on the same page.
“Find them, girl,” I repeated.
That was all she needed. The next moment, she was headed straight for the hills with her nose in the air.
The sight of a bloodhound with its nose glued to the ground is the one people most commonly associate with tracking dogs, but it’s just as likely that the dogs will be following air scents instead. Ground scents are less reliable; they’re the reason the bloodhounds in movies were always losing the escaped prisoner when he crossed a creek bed back in the day. Air scenting means the dogs are able to follow a scent as it rides the currents of air above ground, and it’s been proven to be considerably more effective for searches in the deep woods.
Wade stayed behind to check in with the others, saying he’d catch up to us shortly, while Jack and I followed Phantom along a barely discernible trail through the trees. We continued on until the house was no longer in sight, descending deeper into a ravine cut into the granite mountain by centuries of rushing water. The rainfall meant loose rocks were that much looser, the hillside leading down toward the ravine slick and tough to navigate. I grabbed hold of a piece of scrub brush as Phantom kept going, the ten-foot lead taut between us and the dog seemingly oblivious to her surroundings—focused on the scent.
“Now that we’re on our own again,” I said to Jack, glancing back over my shoulder, “can I ask a question?”
Despite the terrain, he looked more relaxed now, as though movement set him at ease. “Of course,” he said. I kept my focus honed on Phantom’s retreating backside as we walked on through wet leaves, slick granite, and cold rain. “Ask away.”
Relieved, I asked for a brief history of the Redfield family. The trail widened enough for Jack to walk alongside me for a stretch and, with my gaze still fixed on Phantom, I lost myself in the Redfields’ past.
“Dean was the first of the kids,” Jack told me. “Born sometime in the 1960s. His parents lived in Adams, Mass, in the same farmhouse the government repossessed in 2009.”
I nodded, listening as he continued. Dean’s father was in the military, killed in Vietnam in 1973. At that point, there were already a slew of siblings, and rumors flying about abuse and mental illness on the parts of both Mom and Dad.
Jack hesitated. “Go on,” I said. “There’s clearly more to the story…”
“Oh, the story hasn’t even started yet. To keep the house, Mom started taking in…boarders.”
“I’m guessing these weren’t kindly old spinsters looking to help out a neighbor in need.”
“Not exactly,” he agreed. “They weren’t even boarders, really. Or they were, but they mostly rented by the hour.”
“Ah. So, Mom decides to keep the family afloat by going into the oldest profession.”
He smiled faintly, though his eyes remained grim. “It explained a lot, eventually, about the way everything fell apart for Gordon and the rest of the family later on. Mom continued selling herself—and Wendy, I suspect—until she was stabbed by a drunk customer one night in ’87. By then, Dean had joined the military himself. He got the call after her death, got an honorable discharge, and returned to chaos. All the kids were a mess by then, and the house was in ruins.”
“A lot for a kid in his twenties to deal with,” I noted. We’d reached another narrow stretch, so Jack and I separated. The trees closed in yet again, the sky dark enough that I thought I’d need to haul out my flashlight. Up ahead, Phantom paused and glanced behind her.
“Hold that thought,” I told Jack.
I jogged on ahead to check in with Phantom. “How’s it going, girl?” I said. “Have you got a scent, or are we just taking in the sights?”
As though in answer, she lifted her nose to the air. I flashed back to the mangy, bone-thin, but strangely self-possessed dog I’d rescued from the shelter in DeKalb County.
“So you’ve got this—is that what you’re telling me?”
She hip-checked me in Phantom’s signature show of solidarity, and continued on. Jack met me on the path.
“Any luck?” he asked.
“Nothing yet,” I said. He frowned, and I realized this wasn’t really his area. Experienced SAR—search and rescue—are prepared to meander through the woods for long, often fruitless stretches of time. I suspected Jack was more of a man of action than that.
“You could go back to the car if you want,” I offered. “Check in with the others.”
He shook his head without a second thought. “And leave you alone out here? Forget it.”
“You know, I can actually take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time now.”
“We all need someone to watch our backs sometimes,” he said. “Today, that’s my job.” For a second, it seemed like he was about to say more. Tension simmered in the air between us. He wet his lips, cleared his throat, and looked away. “Anyway… Where was I?”
“Dean Redfield, now in charge of all his siblings.”
“Right,” he agreed. “Dean rose to the occasion, even though it had to be tough. Or he tried, anyway. Got the kids to help out and get the house back in shape. He was a hell of a carpenter, and he started getting work around the area. Took on two of his brothers as apprentices. He did everything right…except pay taxes.”
I frowned at that. “So, you’re saying a veteran—himself the son of a soldier who died in combat—who returns and takes on the care of his siblings after the death of his mother… You’re telling me that you then went in and booted him out of his home? Their home?”
Jack bristled. “We did everything we could to get them set up in a new place, or else tried to help get him the resources to take care of the back taxes. I’m not in love with every aspect of this job, you know.” I didn’t say anything, letting him calm down first. After a couple of seconds, he continued. “Besides, more than twenty years had passed since that time. June and Katie were adults. No one had paid taxes for decades, and there were complaints from neighbors that other things were happening, as well.”
“Other things like…?”
He frowned. “The girls had gotten into some trouble. It’s not clear what they were exposed to in those early years with their mother, but they were troubled as teens and never quite pulled it together after that. Dean came down hard on them; the police were called in multiple times over the years, charges filed for domestic violence.”
I said nothing for a few seconds, considering the story. “So, the women who were murdered in other states were prostitutes,” I finally said. Jack nodded. “And Gordon’s mother was a prostitute of sorts. As were June and Katie, possibly, at the time of their deaths.”
“Exactly.”
Interesting. Very interesting—and dark, and damned depressing. But it cast Gordon and the murders in a new light, at
the very least. I got the sense there was something Jack was holding back, but I wasn’t sure how to get the information—and wasn’t completely sure I needed it. The whole story might give me a better sense of things, but it didn’t really get me any closer to finding the girls who were missing now.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks for the background, I appreciate it.”
“Of course,” Jack said with a nod. “Whatever I can tell you, I will.” I caught the implication: there were things about this case that he couldn’t tell me. He looked up ahead, and I followed his gaze. Phantom wasn’t in sight, though I could hear the bell on her collar clearly.
In the time that we’d been talking, we’d slowly been descending the mountain, the terrain varying from a bitty hill to a steep ledge carved from the granite. The sound of rushing water was louder now, and I expected we must be getting close to the ravine by this time. It was hard to tell at the moment, however, since we were tucked into a narrow thread of woods so thickly forested you could barely see daylight.
Once we’d cleared the trees and I got a better look at what we were facing, I stopped dead.
“How much longer do you think we should be looking around out here without the others?” Jack asked behind me.
I held my hand up, signaling him to stop. My heart was lodged somewhere in my stomach, twisted in there with the warm cereal I’d had for breakfast hours ago.
I wet my lips, and tried to find my voice.
“Stop, Phan,” I called. She was at the end of her lead and straining forward, at the very edge of the ravine. The drop below was dizzying. The sound of rushing water was a roar now, water churning white below. A light, cold rain fell, making the already-slick granite potentially treacherous.
To my relief, Phantom braked at my command and glanced back over her shoulder at me. Her body practically vibrated with impatience. When she’s on a mission, Phantom has always been oblivious to her surroundings. Right now, that could prove deadly.
“Come, Phantom,” I said. She was still pointed in the opposite direction, her gaze fixed on something I couldn’t see on the other side of the ledges. And then, as though watching her thoughts unfold, I saw her focus shift below. My stomach dropped.
The incline was practically a right angle that plunged thirty feet to icy, rushing waters and deadly rocks below.
And my dog was about to try climbing down.
“Come,” I repeated firmly. I thought of her tracking the deer early this morning. The fact that she’s an independent spirit is partly what makes Phantom an incredible search and rescue dog…but I’ve worked with her for a long time to instill a sense of when independence is okay, and when she needs to cut the crap and listen to me.
She paused, still looking below. I followed her gaze, but saw nothing. I heard her whine, then glance back at me one more time. She woofed, unmistakably unhappy with me. I can do it—just let me try.
I thought of the mangy cur she’d been when I’d pulled her from the Georgia shelter. The way she’d looked at me then, like she would do whatever she had to do to prove she was worth saving. She’d done that a thousand times over by now.
“Phantom,” I said, pulling myself back to the present. “I don’t care what you think you smell—we’re done. Get your butt back here, or I’m retiring you tonight.”
I could practically see her frown. And while I understand that dogs don’t speak English, and she most likely doesn’t think things through in quite the same way we do, I could have sworn she was weighing the pros and cons while I stood there. Somewhere in the back of my head, I heard Wade’s voice and realized that he’d rejoined us. Jack started to speak behind me, but I held up my hand again. He fell silent.
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, Phantom turned to face me. “Come on, Phan,” I said.
She trotted along the ledge, never once glancing down, and returned to me without incident.
“So, what do you want to do?” Wade asked when we were together once more a few minutes later, Phantom safely beside me once more.
“Call in the cavalry,” I said. “I’m not losing my dog because these idiots were too stubborn to get people down here the right way as soon as they knew the girls were missing.”
“I’ll radio Cheryl,” Wade said.
“You think you can talk to Dean?” I asked Jack. “Convince him I can’t do this alone—we need people down here.”
“I’ll either convince him or I’ll haul him in,” Jack said, his face tense. I’d seen him reach for me more than once over the past hour when it seemed I was losing my footing. I’d recovered each time before his help was needed, but it was clear he wasn’t comfortable here. “You want to come back up with us?”
“No, I’ll wait here with Phan,” I said. “We need better gear than this, though—climbing harnesses, ropes. I didn’t realize what we were in for when I said we should check it out. I should have asked first.”
“I’d forgotten what it was like myself,” Wade admitted. “Haven’t been out here in some time. The rain hasn’t done anybody any favors.”
Least of all the girls, if they were out here.
Phantom had returned to me and we settled on a narrow overhang that jutted out over the rock. Her nose was still up, her gaze focused on the path she’d been following before—a path that had ended abruptly where turf met granite.
I watched as Wade and Jack made their way back up and into the trees. My hand was wrapped around Phantom’s collar, just in case she decided she couldn’t bear sitting still any longer. Seated there, I took the time to soak in the surroundings, looking for any trace of Melanie and Ariel.
The water continued in a rush below. If it ever got dry up here, I expected things quieted to a trickle. Right now, we had a churning river of white foam, a narrow strip of rocky ground running alongside it before it steepened to ledges and inclines.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Melaaaaanie! Ariiiiiel!”
My voice echoed back to me. Otherwise, there was no response.
I took two protein bars from my bag—one for me, and a specially made bar for Phantom. Glanced at my watch. Ten minutes had passed.
And then, just in my periphery, I saw a flash of color in the canyon below.
I turned, fast. Phantom came to attention.
Someone in a red sweater limped along the riverbank, moving with painstaking care. The figure was fuzzy, hard to follow—as though I might not be seeing it at all. Phantom whined.
“Melanie!” I shouted again. The figure turned. A girl. She stared up at me for a moment, her face too far for me to make out any details beyond gender and race. “Wait there,” I called.
She froze. I could sense the tension despite the distance between us. She looked over her shoulder, then back at me. And then, still limping, she scrambled in the opposite direction. Away from me and around a corner—out of sight.
* * *
Chapter 7
“YOU’RE SURE SHE WENT that way?” Cheryl asked me for the third time since she’d arrived on the scene.
“I’m sure—I’m not blind. A girl in a red sweater. I couldn’t see anything beyond that. She was too far for me to figure out how old she was, or whether it was Melanie or Ariel.”
Cheryl looked below doubtfully. The water was still churning, and the rain was falling in earnest now. Other than that, the scene was still. No sign of a soul, living or dead.
“Claude didn’t remember her wearing red,” Dean said behind us. Much to my dismay, Cheryl and Wade had returned with a crowd: Bear, Ren, Jack, and Dean. Bear and Ren I could handle, but it’s never a good thing having the family of the missing in on a search like this one.
“If there’s a woman running around the countryside out here, chances are pretty damn good she’s got some connection to Ariel and Melanie,” Cheryl said. “There’s a trail that cuts down to the river. Jamie and I will follow that.” She glanced at Bear and Ren, and I wondered what had happened in my absence that morning. Clearly, Cheryl
had had some opportunity to work with them both.
“You two track along the edge of the ravine—carefully,” she said. “We’re looking for any sign of the girls: clothing, jewelry.” She paused, and I knew what she was thinking. Blood. Hair. Fibers. The residual pieces of two lives that may or may not have been lost out here. She could hardly say that in front of Dean, though.
I hesitated before giving the okay. It was clear we should be maintaining teams of two, but I wasn’t so sure about keeping the two most experienced handlers together while we sent Bear and Ren—both juniors without the skill or maturity necessary to handle the situation if things went south—out on their own.
“How about Bear and Casper work with me,” I said. “And you take Ren topside with you, Cheryl.”
Technically, this wasn’t my call—I knew that. Cheryl considered it for a moment before she nodded, and I saw Bear’s face fall.
“You all right with that, Bear?” she asked him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. No argument. No eye roll. Maybe I should have Cheryl along on more of our searches from now on.
She glanced at Dean and the others, then at Jack and Wade. Weighing who would be of value, and who would be dead weight.
“Jack, you bring Dean and help us with the search up here,” she said. “Wade, I want you down below with Jamie—you know this area better than anyone.”
Jack didn’t look happy with the arrangement. Frankly, I wasn’t either—Dean was still carrying his rifle with him, and I didn’t care for the thought of him roaming the woods up here with Cheryl, Ren, and their dogs left vulnerable. I hesitated.
“Maybe it would be smarter if you went back to the house, Dean,” I said. “I’d like you to take a look around the girls’ rooms, see if you can come up with anything else.”