Inside the Echo

by Jen Blood

  “‘He’ is standing right here,” Chase said coolly. “And I’m a certified Maine Guide with extensive knowledge of this area. I’ve already signed a waiver – I don’t care if I’m putting myself at risk. I need to find my wife.”

  “We need all the qualified hands we can get,” Hogan said. “Chase has worked with the warden service on a lot of searches in the past – we’re lucky to have him out here.”

  Sure we were. Beside me, Phantom was starting to get restless, and personally I was starting to feel the same way.

  “So, where do you want us?” I asked, rather than pursuing the conversation while Chase was still around.

  “We’re going further out today,” Michelle said. “We were working with a radius of ten miles yesterday, but they could have gone farther by now. We’ve got sleds that’ll take you out to the edge of the perimeter we finished last night, so you’ll be working fresh ground today.”

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  “How are you pairing us up today?” Jack asked.

  “We’re doing teams of three this time out,” Hogan said. “One dog-and-handler team, plus two from law enforcement.”

  “You really think that’s necessary?”

  “We’re not taking any chances,” Michelle said.

  “Okay, so… How are we doing this?” I asked.

  “I’ll go with Jamie,” Chase said, much to my surprise.

  “He’s not law enforcement,” Jack pointed out.

  “I might as well be, though,” Chase argued, focused on Hogan. Hogan waved off the argument.

  “No, he’s right. Jack and I will go with Jamie. Chase, you’re with Michelle.”

  I thought for a minute that Chase might actually argue, but after a second’s thought he nodded.

  “Sure,” he said. “Wherever you need me.”

  When he and Michelle left, we were finally clear to get started. Snowmobiles were already lined up like cabs outside an airport, waiting for the next paying customer. I loaded Phantom into one of the trailers, hopped on behind an unidentifiable man in a snowsuit and helmet, and felt my adrenaline kick in once more. Jack climbed on behind me, his body warm and reassuringly solid cradling mine as we headed out.

  And then stopped.

  We were no more than fifty yards along before the snowmobile up ahead came to an abrupt halt. Hogan got off, radio at his ear. Our snowmobile slowed to a stop and idled while we waited to find out what was happening. Hogan was pacing, definitely unhappy, and I watched as he put the radio away and stalked toward us with his jaw set.

  “We’ve got a warden who’s MIA,” he said. “Charlie Babcock was due for check-in at 0700, but we never heard from him. We haven’t been able to raise him since.”

  “Can you track his phone?” Jack asked.

  “Not out here. We’re doing what we can, but I don’t like this. Charlie can be a pain in the ass, but he never misses check-in.”

  He’d barely gotten the words out before his radio crackled to life once more.

  “Excuse me,” he said to me, and walked away with shoulders tensed.

  “What do you think’s going on?” Jack asked behind me, his mouth at my ear to be heard over the roar of the snowmobile engine.

  “No idea. It doesn’t feel like a good thing, though.”

  “No.”

  At sight of Hogan’s face when he returned a few minutes later, it was clear that we were right: this was definitely not a good thing. Before he could tell us anything, however, another snowmobile came rocketing back from up the trail. I recognized Chase and Michelle on the back. The snowmobile stopped close to ours and Michelle got off, stumbling in her scramble to reach us. Chase got off more slowly, but my focus was definitely on the K-9 handler.

  “Something’s wrong with Whippet,” she called as she approached. “I need to get her to the vet. Her pulse is going crazy.”

  My own heart thundered at the words, knowing the implication.

  “Go!” Hogan commanded. “We’ll figure things out on my end, don’t worry about it. Just take care of your dog.”

  She nodded numbly and ran back to the snowmobile as Chase ambled toward us. The look on his face made my skin crawl – a smugness that I couldn’t imagine the others could possibly miss.

  “Looks like I’m missing a partner,” he said casually.

  “There’s a team farther up the trail who could use a third,” Hogan said, clearly distracted. “I’ll radio ahead and let them know.”

  Chase’s face fell. “I thought I would just work with your group.”

  “We don’t need a fourth, especially not when other teams are short. It’s either that or head back and wait at the hotel with the senator.”

  “No,” Chase said shortly. “That’s fine. I’ll go with them.” He was clearly unhappy; Chase Carter was a man used to getting his own way.

  “Great. Just wait here, and someone will be by to pick you up.”

  Before Chase could argue, Hogan gave our driver the signal and we were headed up the mountain once more. I looked behind us, but could see little beyond Jack’s form behind me. I imagined Chase still there, sulking and seething, and was grateful that Hogan had stuck to his guns.

  It took half an hour of steady riding before we reached our section of the grid. The day was clear and cold, the sky cloudless after the morning flurries. Once the sled came to a halt, we dismounted and I retrieved Phantom. I thought of Whippet, and wasted no time running Phantom through a quick check-up while we waited for Hogan to join us.

  “What do you think is wrong with Michelle’s dog?” Jack asked me.

  “No idea. I hate thinking about it – it’s every handler’s nightmare.” I had Phantom sit, and crouched beside her, then held out my right hand. Phantom dutifully offered her left paw. She sat back on her haunches, but her focus was keen on the world around us. I gave her leg a gentle stretch, supporting her elbow and monitoring for any foreign pops or creaks in the joints.

  “It’s a strange coincidence, the dog being fine up until the moment Chase joined the group,” Jack said, too casually. I dropped Phantom’s left foreleg and moved on to the right, weighing my words.

  “Remember what I told you about the voice I’ve been hearing?” I asked. I glanced up to find Jack’s attention on me. He nodded.

  “‘Baby girl’? It’s too creepy to forget.”

  “I was talking to Chase this morning. He says Justin used to call Megan that.”

  Jack frowned. Phantom whined, and I realized I’d been holding her paw without doing anything for the past minute.

  “Sorry, girl,” I said. I stretched the foreleg gently, then set it down.

  “Did you tell Hogan?” Jack asked.

  “Not what I’ve been hearing, but I did tell him to follow up and figure out where Megan’s ex-husband is.”

  “And?”

  I shrugged, then straightened and gave a hand signal for Phantom to stand. “He’s looking into it. Last I knew, he hadn’t heard anything.”

  “I wonder if that’s what that second radio call was about.”

  Hogan arrived as I was finishing up with Phantom, and strode across the frozen ground from his snowmobile with clear purpose.

  “Megan?” I guessed, simply by the look on his face.

  “You were right about her ex,” Hogan confirmed. “There was apparently some kind of error at the prison. That’s why I had such a hard time getting my information. They were too busy covering their own asses to contact Megan about the release.”

  “The release?” Jack echoed. “So he’s out?”

  “He was on some kind of work program. Just walked out of the damned facility three days ago. He had paperwork or something, I don’t know. All I know is, heads will roll once this gets out. And if this is really the guy out there doing the shooting…”

  “If?” I said. “Doesn’t this kind of confirm that he’s the one out there?”

  “There’s another guy: Frank Mooney. Husband of Ava Jones, the woman Violet had
been working with in D.C. We’ve been trying to get additional information from the FBI about him. It turns out he’s a contract killer with a lot of connections. It could just as easily be him.”

  “Frank Mooney?” Jack said. “That’s not good. I don’t know anything about Megan’s ex, but Frank Mooney is notorious in the Bureau. Given the choice, I’d take just about anyone else going up against those women right now.”

  “Either way,” I said, as Phantom tugged impatiently at her lead and the sun climbed higher in the sky, “our job remains the same. We have to find them.”

  “Agreed,” Hogan said. He looked at me, then out at the wide expanse around us. “Lead on.”

  Chapter 17

  WildFire Expeditions

  February 5, 12:00 p.m.

  RECLUSE BY HER SIDE, Megan made her way back through the forest as fast as her legs would carry her, intent on finding the dead warden’s snowmobile. When she finally stopped, it was because she was so completely disoriented that she was afraid she’d circled back and would wind up right back where she’d started. She took a few minutes to catch her breath and settle her nerves, the events of the past twenty-four hours running through her head on a continuous loop. Where were Ava and Violet? Who was the warden Justin had shot? Hogan must know him; all those warden types knew each other, whether they worked in Maine, Alaska, or anywhere in between.

  She continued moving through the woods with Recluse beside her through the morning and into early afternoon, mindful of every sound they made. If she could just get back to that damned snowmobile, they would be fine. She could save the others. The police would catch Justin, and put him away for life this time.

  It was beautiful out, something she was grateful for. Sun high in a blue sky, the temperature hovering just around the freezing mark. A perfect day to be out on the sled with the dogs. She thought longingly of her workshop. Of being there with the smell of sawdust in her nose, heat from the woodstove taking off the chill while she worked.

  She would get back there.

  She kept going with her head up, eyes and ears alert for anything foreign. Recluse was just as on edge. Twice, he chased, caught, and killed squirrels that crossed their paths. Megan didn’t like watching, but she didn’t begrudge him the meal.

  She looked up at the sky. It had to be at least noon. She should be back there by now. The trail she’d left when running away had gotten muddled by a thin layer of snow that fell after the fact. That and wind and melting meant a trail that should have been simple to follow had gotten garbled somehow.

  Suddenly, she heard something in the distance. A dog barking. She stood still, straining to hear even as Recluse came to attention beside her. She couldn’t be that far from the site of the killing. She froze at the sound of someone shouting.

  “Megan! If you’re within the sound of my voice, call out!”

  A searcher.

  How far were they?

  If she could hear them, they could absolutely hear her.

  She opened her mouth, heart pounding, an instant before Recluse whirled. Something in the air, a sudden weight in her chest, told her before he’d even spoken, exactly who was there.

  “You left before we got a chance to talk,” Justin said.

  She could have cried.

  Megan turned to find a rifle pointed at her, Justin smiling behind it. He had hazel eyes and dusty brown hair; a good-looking guy, according to most who met him. Witty. He and Chase had lived a charmed life, getting everything they wanted from the time they were kids. The ugliness Megan had experienced had wiped away any physical beauty she might have seen in the man, though. She fought bowel-clenching fear; a profound desire to melt into the earth.

  “What happened?” She tried to steady herself, managing to sound almost normal. “You’re not up for parole for another five years.”

  “Computer glitch,” he said cheerfully, then shrugged. “Technology. What can you do?”

  “What do you want?”

  “That isn’t obvious by now?” he asked. He kept the gun level with her breast. “I want you. Well… I want you to pay, specifically. You ruined my life. You really thought I would just forget about that?”

  Throughout the exchange, Recluse had been standing stock still, held back by Megan’s hand around his collar. If she let him go, she knew he would lunge.

  And Justin would shoot.

  “You have a leash for that thing?” he asked, nodding toward Recluse.

  “Left it home. We don’t really worry about leash laws out here.”

  “Funny.”

  Justin looked around, for the first time appearing to lose some of that eerie calm she’d first seen at the site of the warden’s killing.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Didn’t quite think this all the way through?”

  “Shut up.”

  She was right, though. He hadn’t thought through the logistics. She could see his dilemma now. If he fired the gun, it would attract the attention of searchers so close now that Megan could hear them. If he made a move toward her, Recluse would take him down in a second. Justin had never been great with details, and it was about to bite him in the ass. If Recluse didn’t get there first.

  “Get on the ground,” he said.

  She straightened to her full five foot six inches. “No.”

  He took a step toward her. The fur stood tall at the back of Recluse’s neck all the way to his tail, his growl reverberating in the stillness.

  And then, Justin shifted the gun. He pointed it directly at Recluse, and took a step back.

  “You think you have me, right, baby girl? You always thought you were so much smarter than me. Well, think about this:

  “I get off one shot, and it hits that dog. Maybe I’m not the best shot, but chances are pretty good I’ll make this one. I promise you this: that dog won’t survive a point-blank bullet from this gun. Then, I go for you. And we run like hell, before the searchers ever figure out where we are.”

  He looked Megan in the eye, giving her a glimpse into the darkness she’d learned to loathe during their marriage.

  “Tell me I won’t do it,” he challenged. “Baby girl, I got nothing to lose. You saw to that.”

  Megan knelt. He ordered her to put one hand on her head, holding Recluse back with the other. Trembling now, and hating herself for it, she complied.

  She watched as Justin took his pack off his back and removed a length of rope from inside. He saw her eying his gear, and smiled.

  “Nice, huh? Good old Chase. Never lets a brother down.”

  Megan was stopped by the information, for just a second. Why would Chase give him money for camping gear? Had he told Violet what he was doing?

  Justin zipped the pack again and put it back on. He was shaking even more than she was, and Megan wondered if he was on something or this was just nerves.

  He tossed her the rope. “Loop it around the dog’s collar, and tie him to that tree.” He indicated a sturdy maple not far from them. “Make sure it’ll hold.”

  “I’m not just leaving him here.”

  “We either do that or we leave him dead. Your choice.”

  Silent, fuming, she did as he instructed. When she was through, Justin ordered her away from the dog. Her stomach felt like it was lined with razorblades. Furious, she choked back tears.

  “Please don’t hurt him.” God, how she hated the weakness in her voice. It was a drug for Justin, though. He stood a moment, taking it in, as he watched Recluse lunge at him, trying to break free of the rope. Justin hefted his gun. He looked at Megan, then at the dog.

  If he hurt her dog, she would kill him, she silently pledged. Any moral dilemma she may have had – and that was already questionable – would be gone.

  He grinned at her suddenly. “It’s good to see you again, Meg. I forgot how much fun we used to have.”

  He took a threatening step toward Recluse, the gun raised as a club now. Recluse held his ground, teeth bared. Justin started to whip the gun down toward
the furious animal, stopped abruptly, and laughed. He aimed the rifle once more at Megan.

  “Just kidding. I’m not going to hurt the damn dog. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

  A chill filled the air, settling deep in her bones. All humor gone, he looked at her once more. “Now, get away from him. Walk.”

  Impotent, seething, Megan did as she was told.

  Chapter 18

  Flint K-9 Search and Rescue

  February 5, 12:30 p.m.

  WE WORKED STEADILY for an hour, trekking through the undergrowth with Phantom constantly on the move up ahead. Jack, Hogan, and I were largely quiet during that time, but I could sense Hogan’s growing frustration. Megan and the other women had now been missing for over twenty-four hours. Every hour that passed without us finding them made it less likely our search would be successful.

  The one thing we had on our side today was the weather. It was beautiful out, and – apart from the reason why we were here – I couldn’t think of a place I would rather be.

  Since setting out that morning, I had yet to hear Brock’s voice. Did that mean we were moving farther from the shooter? I didn’t think so. The first time I’d heard him, we had been just out behind the hotel. Would the shooter have been out there talking to Megan? I sincerely doubted it. Which meant it must be something else that was triggering these bizarre echoes. I just wished I could figure out what it was.

  At twelve thirty that afternoon, just as we were finishing up with a good-sized swath of search area, Hogan got another call.

  “Keep going,” he told Jack and me. “I’ll catch up.”

  Jack and I walked behind Phantom in silence for a couple of minutes. I loved watching Phantom work. She was a natural athlete, every move fluid and graceful. The shepherd continued along the snowy terrain, her focus entirely on the search. Behind us, I could hear Hogan on the radio. He didn’t sound happy, though I could make out no words.

  When he came back, I braced myself for bad news.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “More stonewalling from the Feds,” he said. “We’re still not getting a clear answer on whether they know where Frank Mooney is. He’s supposed to be under surveillance, but no one will tell me if that’s actually true and, if so, where he is now.”