by Jen Blood
She gave me a sideways, approving glance when Jack wasn’t looking, and I felt the color rise in my cheeks. “Nice. Way to class up the joint,” she whispered to me. I gave her what I hoped was a stern enough scowl for her to be quiet, and hoped to high heaven that Jack hadn’t heard. He continued further into the lodge, seemingly oblivious of our exchange.
The lodge opened into an expansive great room with a wood stove at the center, a fire already roaring within.
“Whoa,” Bear said as he stepped inside. “Now I could definitely get used to this.”
“Well, don’t,” I said evenly. “How many bedrooms are there?”
“Five,” Michelle said. “There’s another warden who’ll be staying with us: Charlie Babcock. He doesn’t have a dog, but he’s always happy to be around them. He’s a good guy, you’ll like him. We already claimed our rooms, which means two in your team will need to double up. Hope that’s all right.”
“I’ll do it,” Bear volunteered immediately. I caught the look he exchanged with Ren, but was more concerned with the blush climbing his cheeks. “Ren and I could—”
I held up my hand. “Not on your life.”
“Bear and I can bunk together,” Jack volunteered. Bear started to argue, but I just raised an eyebrow.
“You’re seriously gonna fight me on that?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Frowned. “No, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” I looked at Jack. “Are you sure you’re all right with that?”
He shrugged, with a slight grin in Bear’s direction. “I think we’ll manage.”
After introductions were through and room assignments had been settled, I went to my room to set my things down. As soon as I made it through the door, I took a deep breath at sight of the queen-sized bed and down comforter, not to mention the large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. I even had a bathroom to myself. Out on the island, we’d just finished building dormitory-style housing for the group. I had a twin-sized bed that I usually shared with Phantom, and a bathroom that was anything but private.
I turned the water on in the shower and slipped my hand under the spray. Oh, God. Water pressure. Actual water pressure.
“Jamie?” There was a knock on the bedroom door. I opened up to find Jack in the hallway, now without his parka and ski hat.
“Yeah?” I said. “Is there a problem with the room? I know it’s not ideal sharing with a teenage boy – ”
“No, it’s no problem,” he said quickly, waving me off. Surprisingly, I got the sense he genuinely didn’t mind. “I was just wondering if you’d mind me coming along when you get briefed by the IC? I’d be interested to hear some more details on the case. And I haven’t actually been inside the SAR mobile unit yet…”
“And you’d like to see what kind of toys they get to play with in there?” I guessed.
He grinned, a little sheepish. “Yeah. Kind of.”
“Of course,” I agreed. “Let me grab my coat, and I’ll meet you in the great room in five.”
“Perfect.”
He left, and I closed the door after him. I allowed myself two minutes to lie on the giant bed, Phantom stretched out beside me.
“Don’t get used to it,” I said to the dog. She sighed, and lay her head on my arm. My sentiments exactly.
I managed to pry myself off the bed and was at the front door right on time when Jack met me. He was bundled up again, a spark in his eye that I was beginning to enjoy. I hadn’t seen that when he was with the FBI, but it always seemed to turn up when I called him in for a search.
As we were headed out the door, his hand settled at the small of my back as he ushered me through. Warmth spread where his fingers connected with my body, despite my multiple layers of clothing.
And then, that voice returned.
Just hold tight, baby girl. I’m on my way.
I shrank from Jack’s touch, hoping he didn’t notice, and focused on the words. The voice. And then, I steeled myself. There had to be a reason I was hearing Brock again. I thought of the women lost in the snow at this very moment. Battered women. It was a term I had no love for. I’d always refused to label myself that way, despite what I went through with Brock. I wasn’t so delusional that I didn’t recognize that was mostly vanity on my part, though.
“Are you coming, Jamie?” Jack asked. He was watching me again, clearly aware something was going on. I was relieved when he didn’t press me on it.
“Yeah. Sorry – I’m coming.”
I stepped into the cold air. Jack closed the door behind us. I waited for that clear, distant voice I loathed to return. This time, it didn’t.
I knew the reprieve was only temporary. One thing you could always count on with Brock Campbell: once he got his claws in, he didn’t let go. He would be back.
Chapter 4
HOGAN CAUGHT UP TO US again in the parking lot outside the mobile search and rescue unit, looking more harassed than he had before. Barely twenty minutes had passed, but clearly tension was mounting around this search.
“Any news?”
“Vultures are circling,” he said, nodding toward the news vans. “I thought maybe the weather would keep them away, but no such luck. Other than that, not much.”
Before we made it inside the trailer, a handsome older man accompanied by an equally attractive woman in her mid- to late sixties made a beeline for us from across the parking lot. I recognized the man as Senator Robert Price immediately, and cringed at sight of the reporters and camera crews trailing him. At the same time that the senator and his wife were headed our way, I noticed a ruggedly good-looking man in a navy blue ski jacket and knit cap as he stepped out of a black SUV across the lot. He made no move to join us, but I was acutely aware of his attention.
“Thank you for meeting us here,” Hogan said to the senator, extending his hand. “Senator Price, this is Jamie Flint and her colleague, Jack Juarez. Jamie will be coordinating with the warden service’s K-9 unit for the operation.”
Jack and I shook the senator’s hand, and he introduced us to the woman beside him – his wife, Sally. As we exchanged pleasantries, the press took a steady stream of photos, shouting questions that were mostly ignored.
“I’m happy to help in any way I can, Lieutenant Hogan,” the senator said.
“Can you tell us why you’ve been asked to assist in this search, Senator?” a female reporter called out from the crowd. For a second, I saw a weariness, a glimpse of pain cross Sally Price’s face before it vanished. The senator, however, remained unwavering.
“Law enforcement background,” he said vaguely. “I’ve helped with a lot of searches in my years on the force, and I still know this area. Times have changed, but I’m happy to lend a hand when I can.”
“Does it have anything to do with the individuals on this expedition?” another reporter, this one a man, asked. “Why hasn’t the warden service issued a statement on the participants, or any other details about the trip? What’s with all the secrecy?”
“As the lead agency on this search, it’s up to the warden service what information they do or do not release,” the senator said. This prompted another flurry of questions.
“Excuse us,” Hogan said smoothly, interrupting the assault. “We need to get to work. IC Roger Steiner will have a statement prepared as soon as we have any new information.”
He opened the trailer door and stood aside as Sally Price entered first, her husband’s hand at her elbow, his own head bowed. Jack and I followed behind, silent.
The Maine Warden Service’s mobile unit was a thirty-two-foot, state-of-the-art trailer decked out with the latest in law enforcement technology and communications. A digital whiteboard was the centerpiece of the room, with several computer stations on either side. All of them were occupied at the moment, the place buzzing with activity.
“My son-in-law should be here shortly to help with the search,” the senator said the moment the door was closed behind him. “He’s a registered Maine Guide, so I
expect his expertise will come in handy.”
“I’ll have him coordinate with the IC, sir,” Hogan said. “We’ll take any help we can get.”
The mobile unit door opened once more, letting in a flurry of shouted reporters’ questions as the good-looking man I’d seen in the parking lot entered, another warden beside him.
“Chase! Thank God you could make it,” the senator said. He turned to Hogan. “This is my son-in-law, Chase Carter.”
“Good to meet you, Mr. Carter, though I’m sorry about the circumstances,” Hogan said. He extended his hand and the men shook, though I could tell from the tension on his face that Hogan wasn’t happy about this new addition. “It looks like you made quite a stir out there with the reporters. We’re trying to keep a low profile on this as much as possible.”
“Chase is running for U.S. Senate next term,” the senator explained. “He’s a crowd favorite. Low profile isn’t even in his vocabulary right now.”
He didn’t look the least bit familiar to me, but I got the sense simply in the way Chase Carter carried himself that he expected others to know who he was. At the words, I caught a glimpse of a frown on Sally Price’s face, accompanied by a fleeting glance in her son-in-law’s direction that got my own antennae up. However much the senator might like Chase, I wasn’t sure that Sally held him in the same esteem.
“I tried to tell him he could meet with IC Steiner later, inside the motel,” the warden who had accompanied Chase said. He was wiry and blond, not more than twenty-five years old, and clearly feeling a little out of his depth right now.
“It’s in your best interest to listen to the corporal from here on out,” Hogan said to Chase, then shifted focus back to the corporal. “You can join the briefing now, Charlie. I’ve got it from here.”
The corporal moved to find a seat in the briefing area, where it appeared things were about to get started. Hogan took me aside briefly. “I’m going to talk to the senator and his family out back, get them briefed and find out whatever I can. Make yourselves comfortable. IC Steiner should be here shortly.”
Sure enough, Hogan had barely shepherded the others away before Sergeant Roger Steiner entered the unit, another volley of questions following him before reporters were shut out behind the closing door. He was a tall, angular man who always reminded me a little of Abe Lincoln, minus the mutton-chop sideburns. Corporal Charlie, the warden who had accompanied Chase Carter, stepped to the front of the room.
“We’ll begin the briefing now,” the corporal said. “Assignments will be given out at the end, and if you’ll sign up with your phone number on the sheet I’m sending around, I’ll text updates to the group as we get them.”
There was a flurry of conversation as others found seats or chose to stand, as Jack and I had. Corporal Charlie went to the whiteboard, and a digital topographic map of the area appeared. The map was covered with lines – solid, dashed, and dotted – of varying colors, a coded spider web that would have been hard to decipher if I hadn’t been in search and rescue for the better part of a decade and a half. Today, the yellow dashed lines represented snowmobiles; solid red was the overhead crew; solid green were the “ground pounders” – volunteers searching the area on foot. K-9 units were represented by a series of blue lines concentrated in the area around Grafton Notch State Park, a 3,000+ acre park in the Mahoosuc Mountains first established in 1963.
The map was tangled enough right now, but I knew that by the end of the search we’d barely be able to identify the major landmarks for all the markups covering it.
Up front and off to one side stood Sergeant Roger Steiner, a man I’d worked with before and had always respected. Roger had been in the warden service for decades. He loved the outdoors, had forgotten more than most people would ever know about the job, and knew the Maine woods better than just about anyone out there. If there was anyone suited to head the search, it was him.
Beside Roger stood a man I barely recognized, though I had met him a few times in the years that Bear had been active with WildFire Expeditions. Abe Wright, Heather’s husband, had always been good looking, gregarious, and creative – an artist trapped in the body of a mountain man, and someone Bear always looked up to. Now, the man looked wrecked. Unwashed, eyes shadowed, clothes rumpled. He stood beside Roger with his hands deep in his pockets and his head down, forehead furrowed as though he were in pain.
“Jamie,” Roger said, when the wardens at the map were quiet. “Good to see you – though I wish it were under different circumstances.”
I nodded my agreement. “Of course.”
Abe acknowledged me with a curt nod. If he recognized me, he gave no indication. Of course, the way he looked I’m not sure he would have recognized his own shadow.
“I’ve asked Abe here to provide some background for searchers,” Steiner said, nodding toward the younger man. Abe nodded, appearing more focused now that he had something to do.
“This map indicates where Heather’s expedition was supposed to be yesterday, last night, and today. They were traveling on skis and by dogsled, so it’s not likely they’d be too far beyond this.”
I studied the map. The Mahoosuc Mountain Range is a northern extension of the White Mountains, straddling the Maine/New Hampshire border. Some of the toughest miles in the Appalachian Trail are part of the range, including Mahoosuc Notch – generally agreed to be the slowest mile on the trail, with its steep climbs, massive boulders, and notable lack of any actual walking trail.
“This is a pretty standard route for them, isn’t it?” I asked Abe. “My son did a couple of courses with you. I think the trails at that point were in and around Grafton Park – the same area I’m seeing here.”
“That’s right,” Abe said. “I wanted them to stay more central – I tried to talk them into sticking near Sunday River, but Megan overruled me. Said it would be better to stay on familiar ground.” He paused. Studied me. “You’re Bear’s mom, aren’t you?”
I nodded, and he smiled almost absently. “He’s a good kid. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. I’m a little…” He trailed off, looking suddenly lost.
“Don’t worry about that, I understand. You were saying, about the trail choices?” I prompted, getting him back on topic.
“Right,” he said. “They wanted to be more accessible, in case there was a problem. With some of the women, there was a concern about spouses getting involved.”
“You’re aware of the type of expedition this was?” Steiner interrupted, directing the question at me. I nodded wordlessly.
“Between that and Heather’s condition…” Abe trailed off just as Hogan returned, the senator and his wife nowhere in sight. I waited for someone to elaborate on Abe’s words; when no one did, Hogan volunteered the information.
“Heather is six months’ pregnant,” he explained.
“I wanted to make sure they could get help if they needed it,” Abe said. “Megan said it wouldn’t be a problem staying out toward Grafton Notch, though.” His voice failed, and he shifted his gaze to the ground abruptly, trying to get himself back under control.
“We still have no idea what happened out there,” Steiner said to him gently. “But you don’t find women tougher than Megan and Heather. We’ll find them, Abe. They’ll be all right.”
Abe nodded, but said nothing more.
“Anyway,” Steiner said, his focus on me and the other wardens in the room now. “The way we figure it, the group traveled at most ten miles from where the camp was found. That’s where we’re focusing our efforts, so we’ll start the dogs out there.”
He nodded toward the map on the whiteboard. “This is accessible to everyone on the search, of course. You’ll need to sync with everyone else, and Charlie—” he nodded to the corporal, who was fast becoming a familiar face—“will get you the passwords you need so you can download and share your GPS coordinates as you finish your assignments.”
Michelle Wassel, our roommate back at the lodge, cleared her throat. As leader o
f the warden service’s K-9 unit, I would report directly to her over the course of the search. Meanwhile, the IC oversaw the operations for multiple agencies until the missing were either found or the search was called off.
“I still have my doubts about taking the dogs out in this weather,” she said. “It’ll be fine while things are frozen over tonight, but it’s supposed to warm up by morning. I don’t want my dogs plowing through a foot of slush tomorrow.”
“How many teams do you have out there?” I asked.
“Six warden service teams, and eight MESARD handlers. Add your three to that, and we’ve got an army of dogs and handlers. Hopefully that’ll be enough to bring everybody home before the weather turns again. Tonight should be fun, though. We just slip on our ice skates and let the dogs have at it.” Jack looked mildly concerned. “Not literally,” she assured him, and there was a ripple of laughter in the room. “But it’ll be damned slick. Not that the dogs mind that kind of thing. Should be a good night for a search.”
“Hopefully so,” I agreed. “Especially if we bring everybody home fast.”
That earned nods all around. The rest of the briefing took only a few minutes before Charlie took me aside and supplied me with the passwords I’d need to get on the shared online search page for this operation. As soon as Jack and I were done, Hogan found us again.
“You ready? Once we get to the park entrance, we’ll have a sled bring you and the dogs up to the camp.”
“A sled?” Jack asked. “As in…”
“Not a bobsled,” I assured him. “It’s what all the guys in the know call snowmobiles.”
“Ah. One of these days I’m going to write down all the lingo I run into with these searches. Half the time I feel like I need Google Translate just to keep up.”
“Let me know if you do,” IC Steiner said, approaching Jack, Hogan, and me. “I’m sure our volunteers could use it.”