“Drinking. Parties. Hooking up. That’s risky behavior!”
Brooke rolled her eyes “When did you get so old?”
“I’m not that old. Look, you may think you’re just having fun, but that’s how college women get in trouble.”
“Pregnant? I’m not that stupid.”
Tension tightened my jaw. “Not pregnant. Abducted. Killed. Predators take advantage of women who are drunk. They look for them.”
Brook waved her hand like she was dissipating smoke. “I know how to stay safe.”
“Apparently, you don’t!” My eyes shifted beyond Brooke. My mother was returning.
Brooke glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t you dare say a thing.”
I bit my lip.
Mom returned and glanced at both of us, then smoothed her hair and forced a smile. “So, I thought maybe we could go to the outlets tomorrow. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I need to go home tonight.”
“Tonight? Oh, dear. I thought we’d have a little more time with you.”
“Next time, Mom. I’m sorry. I got a text and, uh, I need to go.”
Across the table, Brooke grinned broadly. There’d been no text. I had just lied like a teenager, and my little sister knew it.
7
A cold rain fell as I drove home. My tires hissed on the wet asphalt, and lights from the strip malls and convenience stores gleamed. I was glad for the dark. It matched my thoughts.
This part of Fairfax County was the “good” part. Back in the day, I’d been told I was lucky to get assigned here. But there are no good parts. Not in Fairfax County, not anywhere.
I found that out the hard way.
I flipped on the radio, trying to distract myself, but my mind is stubborn and soon I was thinking again. Why had I been so uncomfortable with my mother and half sister? They were really the only family I had left, except for my stepfather, my uncle, and a couple of cousins.
In mandatory counseling, the psychologist had talked about the “dangers of isolating.” Was that what I was doing?
If so, I’d been doing it half my life.
Luke moved in his crate and whined. I glanced in the rearview mirror. “About an hour to go, buddy.” I heard his body thump down in resignation.
I turned south on US 29 and made my way through Centerville and Manassas. My uncle, a Civil War buff, had told me one time that the word “Manassas” came from the Bible—a Hebrew word meaning “to forget.”
I wished I could.
I managed to ignore phone calls from Nate, Emily, and my mother for a couple of weeks. I kept busy, working cases and running with Luke. Occasionally, he’d sniff the pack where I kept our SAR gear, and once he even pawed at it. I stowed it in my closet after that.
I tried to make up for the absence of SAR with running. Maybe I’d run a half-marathon in the spring.
Then I got a call from Nate followed by a long text.
FBI id’d the body, a 24-year-old woman from Pa. Her mom wants to see where she was found and meet the folks and the dog who found her. Can you come tomorrow at 10 a.m.?
I slammed my phone down on the couch as a gray fear flashed through me. No. No way. It wasn’t my problem. I texted back that I had to work.
But it was my problem, and I knew it. My phone burned a hole in my back pocket all day until I admitted I couldn’t just walk away. The grieving mother deserved some closure. And Luke and I could help provide it.
I got up early the next morning and did a long run to calm my nerves, then showered and dressed. Luke got excited as soon as he saw me pull out our SAR pack. How could I admit to him that I didn’t have the courage for this job he loved?
Clouds had rolled in overnight—thick, gray, heavy clouds. The dashboard thermometer read thirty degrees. Snow wasn’t predicted, but I knew well that weather forecasts in Virginia were a roll of the dice.
Ninety minutes later, I pulled off the road in western Prince William Forest Park. Nate’s Tahoe was the only other vehicle there. I braced myself for his judgment.
As I got out of the Jeep, Nate emerged from the woods, his springer spaniel Sprite dashing ahead of him. He acknowledged me with a nod. “Thank you for coming.”
Those blue eyes. I imagined them searching corners of my soul even I didn’t know existed. I took a deep breath, surprised at how shaky I was. “So what’s the story?” I tried to exude confidence. I know I failed.
“The young woman you found, her name’s Faith Caldwell. ‘Sposed to get married next year. Came down from up north to meet a friend. Goin’ dress shopping in Richmond. Pulled off 95 to get coffee and that’s the last anybody saw of her.”
“Do they have security footage?” My mouth felt like a desert. I swigged water from my Yeti.
Nate nodded. “From the coffee shop.”
“What about her car?”
Nate shrugged. “Don’t know.” He gestured toward the Jeep. “Why don’t you let the dog out before they come? I’ll put Sprite up.”
Luke dashed around happily, sniffing and watering the bushes. I leashed him up, put on his vest, and stuffed his ball in my pocket just as a big black Suburban came down the road.
Special Agent Scott Cooper got out of the driver’s seat. Once again, I was struck by his good looks. This time he was wearing 5.11 cargo pants, boots, and a dark-blue North Face jacket. He looked almost attractive. Almost.
Cooper opened the back door of the Suburban and extended his hand to help a woman step out. Another woman sat in front. Turning to us, he said, “This is Elizabeth Caldwell, Faith’s mother.”
“Ma’am,” Nate said, extending his hand. “We’re sorry about your daughter.”
“Thank you.” Mrs. Caldwell tucked her bobbed blonde hair behind her ears and pulled on a Penn State baseball cap. Her hiking boots looked well worn. A bright blue L.L. Bean parka topped her khakis. She was no stranger to the woods.
Then her eyes lit on Luke. “Oh, is this the dog? May I pet him?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, following Nate’s polite lead. “This is Luke.” I told Luke to sit. Mrs. Caldwell approached him, let him sniff her, and then began to pet him. This mom knew her way around dogs.
Mrs. Caldwell rubbed Luke behind both ears. “Oh, you are so beautiful!” She looked up at me. “It’s so fitting that a dog found Faith. She loved dogs her whole life.” She straightened up. “I’m told you’re a volunteer.”
“That’s right.” I hoped no one noticed the catch in my voice.
“Well, thank you. I’d like to find out more about what you do.” Mrs. Caldwell turned to Cooper. “Can I see the spot now?”
Cooper nodded toward Nathan, who said, “Come along this way, ma’am. We’ll show you.” He looked straight at me. “Jess?”
“Coming.”
While we were talking, another woman emerged from the Suburban. She joined us, quietly introducing herself to me as Special Agent Alice Lopez. “You go ahead. I’ll follow,” she said to me.
A third agent stayed behind at the vehicles. It was a reminder to me that, when it came to bad guys, you couldn’t be too careful.
Like I needed that reminder.
Mrs. Caldwell walked side-by-side with Nate, and every now and then he’d gently take her elbow and help her over a log or through the underbrush. I could tell they were talking and could imagine that soft southern accent calming the grieving mother. Maybe he was explaining about SAR. I hoped so. Cooper followed them, and I trailed behind him.
A lot had changed in the woods in three weeks. About 80 percent of the leaves had fallen off the trees. The ones that remained were brown, unmoving on this still, cold day. I knew from experience many of them would hang on until spring’s new growth sent them falling onto the forest floor.
Someone had marked the path, applying red spray paint on trees like a trail of blood. When I saw it a tremor ran through me. “C’mon, boy,” I said, as if Luke were the one who needed encouragement.
My tens
ion grew with each step. Twenty minutes later, we reached the spot. Nate caught my eye and gestured to keep Luke back. The dog was already alerting, sniffing the air, his nostrils flaring. The smell of human remains lasts a long, long time.
I was only too happy to keep my distance. I distracted my dog with a toy.
Nate squatted next to Mrs. Caldwell on the little rise, and gestured, pointing out exactly where Faith had been found. Although I was too far away to hear their conversation, it appeared that Mrs. Caldwell was asking Nate questions. She kept fingering something around her neck. A necklace maybe.
Cooper stood back a little. He was letting Nate give the answers and for a take-charge kind of guy, I found that odd. Maybe he was as uncomfortable with death as I was.
Mrs. Caldwell looked up toward the sky, and I wondered if she might be trying to imagine her daughter’s last view of this world. Had they told her Faith was dead when she was dumped here?
My throat tightened, struck by Mrs. Caldwell’s courage. She’d come alone, no husband, no son, no sister to support her. I wondered if her family, like mine, couldn’t face trauma.
Luke nudged me. Why are we just standing here? he seemed to say. I ruffled his coat, grateful he’d interrupted my thoughts. “Okay, buddy.”
When I looked up again, I had to catch my breath. Big puffy flakes of snow, a curtain of beauty, descended over the clearing. Nate looked up at the sky too. Mrs. Caldwell held out her hand to catch a flake. They looked like they were caught in a snow globe.
Scott Cooper turned and walked back toward me, his hands jammed in his jacket pockets. I expected him to move past me to where Alice, the other agent, stood guard. But no, he walked toward me.
“Great,” he said. “Now it’s snowing.”
It’s crazy that I noticed his eyes. They were blue, like Nate’s, but not as bright, not as lively, and once again I wondered if Nate wore contacts. “It’s lovely,” I said.
Cooper shrugged. “Snow around here is a pain.”
“Where are you from?”
“Denver.”
“You ski?”
Cooper nodded. “Tried it around here. You can’t really ski on ice.”
Just then Mrs. Caldwell and Nate turned and moved away from the small rise. Relief surged through me.
“Ready?” Cooper asked as they approached.
“Yes, thank you,” Mrs. Caldwell replied. She petted my dog. “Luke, the healer,” she said softly.
I glanced at Nate, wondering what she meant, but he didn’t react.
We walked back through the woods, following the red trail, Nate again in the lead with Mrs. Caldwell, me taking extra care not to trip. When we got to the road, Mrs. Caldwell turned. “I want to thank you all for bringing me here, for helping find some closure. What happened to Faith,” her voice caught in her throat, “shouldn’t happen to anyone’s daughter. But thank you for finding her.” She patted Luke again. “Especially you.”
As Mrs. Caldwell shook my hand, I noticed the necklace she’d been fingering was a small gold cross on a gold chain. She continued saying goodbye. When she got to Nate, she hugged him. Then she climbed into the black Suburban and Cooper drove off.
“Can I take you out to lunch?” Nate asked me when everyone had left.
“No, sorry. I’ve got to run.” I tapped the back of my Jeep and Luke jumped up and entered his crate. I secured the door and dropped the tailgate. When I turned, Nate was still standing there.
“Findin’ this girl was hard on you.” He cocked his head, inviting a response.
“What? No! I didn’t know her.”
“You haven’t been around, not to practice, not to the bonfire. People askin’ about you.”
“I’ve got other things to do, all right?” I walked to the driver’s door and got in. “Work’s been really busy. Besides, I’m not sure SAR is right for me.” Good grief. I sounded like a pharmaceutical commercial.
Nate followed. “Thank you for coming. For what it’s worth, I think you and Luke have made a good team.”
I started the car, forcing a small smile. “Thanks.” I jerked the Jeep into reverse and backed onto the road. When I put it in drive, I realized it had stopped snowing.
That night, the dream came back. I woke up in a sweat, my heart slamming against my ribcage, fear screaming through my veins. I gasped and sat straight up in bed. Luke jumped halfway up and began nudging me.
My recurring dream was more distinct this time, the gray and white and black swirls forming shapes. I heard screams, then the screech of tires, rising and rising. As always, in the end, it was the eyes, the dead eyes that woke me up.
I turned to my dog. “Good Luke, good boy.” I willed my heart to settle down. I got up, went to the bathroom, and paced until it did.
This is why I can’t do SAR. Seeing one body, one dead body, had triggered the dream again.
8
Keep busy. That was my command to myself over the next week. Run. Lift. Work.
So I ran in the woods, lifted the kettle bells and weights in my apartment, and worked. Hard.
My current job was the case of a 48-year-old man who’d skipped out on his family after winning $1.2 million in the state lottery.
By working fourteen-hour days, it took me less than a week to find the dude, who’d run off to Las Vegas with a woman he’d met online. The lawyer I worked for called and told me I’d located him before he’d run through his new fortune. His family would have Christmas after all.
Pumped, I answered the next call before noticing it was Nate. The sound of his voice made my heart thump with fear. I almost hung up.
“Jess, I need you. And Luke. We got a little boy missing down in Westmoreland.”
I caught the urgency in his voice. My heart hardened. Why was he bothering me? “So call out the team.”
“Most of ‘em’s gone someplace for Christmas.”
“Luke and I aren’t operational.”
“I know that. I’ve gotten an exception for you, long as you work with me.” He paused, as if gathering his patience. “Jess, it’s an emergency. Sheriff’s dogs been lookin’ for this boy for six hours. Night’s fallin’ and the weather’s turning. It’s forty now, and a cold rain’s coming down. Do you know the chances of that boy surviving the night?”
I walked over to my window and looked out. The late afternoon sun lay obscured by clouds, and although it wasn’t raining yet where I was, I knew it could start any minute. “So use Sprite.”
“Cain’t. She’s an HRD dog.”
“I can’t believe you don’t have a second dog.” A classic middle-school technique, blame shifting.
Silence.
“Your pack’s ready, right?” he said.
Luke stood staring at me, wagging his tail. Could he hear Nate’s voice?
I murmured a yes to Nate’s question.
“I need you. This kid needs you.”
Luke barked.
“I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t life and death.”
Something in me triggered. “All right, all right. Text me where to meet you.”
Twenty minutes later I guided my Jeep toward a rendezvous with the state police on US 29. Nate said I’d be given a lights-and-sirens police escort to Westmoreland State Park. He seemed to assume I’d be comfortable driving 80 mph on rain-slick roads.
I was.
I’d been to Westmoreland before. It lay right by the Potomac River. Wooded hills, deep ravines, and a few boggy places would be the challenges. And cliffs. Those steep cliffs right next to the river. We’d searched for fossils there once on a high-school field trip.
Would a three-year-old know to stay away from the cliffs?
Why had I decided to respond to Nate’s callout? I mean, in my mind, I was done with SAR. Finding that body unearthed too much in me that I’d rather lie buried.
But this search wasn’t for a body; it was for a kid. A little boy. The kind of kid I used to babysit.
My father taught me to run toward danger,
not away from it. To help whenever I could.
I gripped the wheel. “This one’s for you, Dad.”
I showed up on the scene less than ninety minutes later, threading my way through the cluster of emergency vehicles and the rain-soaked searchers huddled around them. Nate’s eyes brightened when he saw me.
“Thank you,” he said, nodding. “I b’lieve you two might make the difference.”
Together we met with the incident commander. The boy’s home was next to the park, he told us, and the family took many walks in the woods. The mom, who was pregnant, had fallen asleep. She awakened to find the five-year-old still watching TV and the three-year-old missing. The family dog, a beagle, came walking out of the woods alone, fifteen minutes later, while she was still searching for her son. That’s when she called 911.
Despite my resistance, as the story unfolded my heart became fully engaged. When he left the house, the little towheaded boy had on inside clothes—a long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants. Now darkness had fallen, and the rain continued. I imagined little Joey Washburn shivering in the cold. How long could he survive? Urgency rose in me.
Looking over the topographic maps, the search commander sketched out the areas they’d covered.
“Wait, the most likely areas have been searched, right?”
“True enough,” Nate told me.
“What about this area?” I pointed to the map.
“Didn’t seem like a three-year-old would go that route.”
“Maybe we should try?” I said.
The two men agreed and outlined an area for Luke to check. “I’ll be your walker,” Nate said when he finally looked up from the map.
And my coach, I thought, because I don’t really know what I’m doing. I went back to the Jeep, tugged on my lighted visor, and let Luke out of his crate. He watered the bushes and exploded with joy when I pulled out his SAR vest. “Good boy, good boy. We’ve got to find this kid. And it’s not going to be easy.”
I could feel the eyes of the other emergency responders on me. Muddy, wet, and tired, they were looking to us for hope.
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