All That I Dread

by Linda J White

  “Hey, Jess?”

  I heard Nate’s voice and started to turn, but then my eyes spotted something. Luke was nudging something next to a log. He looked back at me, panting, then started to paw whatever it was. Instinctively, I pulled him away, and then I froze. My throat closed up, my heart beating hard. I blinked to be sure of what I saw. A small pile of wood shavings.

  23

  Nate’s face turned fierce when he saw what Luke had found. “Cooper was right.” He glanced around. “It’s possible the dude’s watching us. Not likely, all the way out here, but possible.” He looked at me. “You stay close. And keep your eye out.”

  He pulled his radio off his belt. “This is supposed to be a secure channel, but I don’t trust it. So I’m not going to mention what we found.”

  I nodded.

  He clicked the transmit button. “Susan, Romeo Alpha.”

  “Roger that,” she radioed back after a hesitation.

  “Romeo Alpha” meant “request assistance” from law enforcement. It was used in a variety of situations. In this case, Nate was signaling the possibility of a crime. And who knew? The perpetrator could be nearby, watching.

  For the first time in two years, I wished I was carrying.

  Nate clicked the radio again. “And Susan, tell Cooper he was right.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes. He was right.”

  We had a good half hour to wait before the others showed up. “Luke will alert if someone’s around.” I forced confidence into my voice.

  Nate didn’t answer at first, and I realized it was because he was thinking some idiot with a sniper rifle could pick us off from three-hundred yards. Then he spoke. “I doubt anyone but us is out in these woods today.”

  Still, he seemed unusually watchful as we waited.

  Finally, Luke raised his head, and moments later, I heard the sound of our reinforcements approaching. Cooper was first on the scene. He was carrying a large duffel bag, which I instantly realized was Nate’s. Emily followed Cooper, with Sprite on a leash.

  Nate greeted Sprite first and then pointed to where Luke had indicated he smelled human remains. “Could be she was layin’ there,” he said, “or could be the smell is comin’ up from down below.”

  “Or both,” Cooper responded.

  “Yep.” Nate led him and the deputy sheriff over to the pile of wood shavings. “The dog found this too.”

  “Just like the other case.”

  I was standing a way off. Emily came up to me. “Are you okay? What happened? Why’d we go on alert?”

  I told her there was an indication this could be part of a string of similar murders.

  Her eyes widened. “I thought she just ran off the road!”

  I saw the men circling up. “Let’s go listen to the plan.”

  When we got there, Nate was explaining how he could rappel down the cliff, with Sprite, and search down there. “If Luke was smelling the updraft, she might could still be there.”

  Dead, I thought. She could be there dead.

  “What do you need from us?” Scott asked.

  “Help with the gear is all.”

  “There’s no easier way to get down there?” Tom, the state trooper, said.

  “I checked the map. I don’t see a way any quicker,” Nate responded.

  But how do you get back up? And how do you keep Sprite safe? I’d never seen anyone rappel with a SAR K-9 before.

  I was about to get an education.

  Nate chose a good oak tree for his anchor, throwing his weight against it and kicking the trunk to make sure it was solid. He ran a rope around it and rigged some locking carabiners. The men all clustered around him, drawn by the clinking of the hardware, the myriad of ropes, and Nate’s knot-tying skills. They were fascinated—so was I.

  Then Nate stepped into his climbing harness, which included a utility belt with all kinds of equipment hanging off of it. He rigged his rappelling gear, tugging on it to double-check his knots.

  Sprite seemed nervous as we watched, or maybe restless. Emily stood next to me, holding Sprite’s leash. She leaned over and said, “He’s the only one in Battlefield who can do this.”

  “From his military service?” I asked, and she nodded.

  I watched him check and double-check his equipment. Then he turned to me. “Jess, my pack.”

  “Got it.” I told Luke to stay, handed the leash to Emily, and walked over to where Nate had left his pack. It must have weighed fifty pounds. Quickly, in my head I added it up. Nate weighed like one-hundred sixty, and between his pack and Sprite, he would be carrying ninety pounds down that rope.

  Okay, I could see him sliding down with that much, but how could he climb back up?

  But I was wrong. I set the pack down. Nate looked at me and said, “When I get down there and send the rope back up, I want you to clip my pack onto this.” He pointed to a carabiner. “Then lock it.” He thumbed the screw part of it. “Send it down slowly. Got it?”

  “Yeah. For sure.”

  “Get one of these guys to help so you don’t lose control. I don’t want fifty pounds coming down on my head.”

  “I’ll help her,” Cooper said.

  “Bring Sprite over.” He gestured to Emily.

  I took Luke, and she walked Sprite to him. That little springer knew exactly what to do. She put her four feet into the four holes of her harness that Nate had laid on the ground. He pulled the harness up and buckled it around her.

  They were now ready to go, to step off that cliff into oblivion, trusting rope and hardware, knots and prayer to keep them safe. I knew prayer was part of it. It had to be. Because it was Nate.

  “My biggest concern is keeping Sprite from crashing into the cliff when she’s hanging below me,” Nate said. “I need you all to spot me. Just stay back from the edge.”

  “I’ll watch from the side,” Cooper said.

  Nate nodded. “Okay, now Emily, you come here. I want you to lift Sprite to me. Got it?”

  “Okay.” Emily didn’t sound very sure of herself, but as Nate dropped back, Emily handed him Sprite.

  Nate looked at me and smiled. “Now you know why I like little dogs.”

  Emily moved back from the edge. She glanced at me, and I saw the same fear on her face that was probably on mine.

  Holding onto his rope, Nate edged down until he was hanging in open air, his feet braced against the face of the cliff. Then he carefully lowered Sprite between his legs until she was hanging by her harness about six feet below him. I could hear his soft voice speaking to her. She remained motionless, except for her little tail.

  They were one carabiner failure, one frayed rope away from death. They were fifty feet off the ground, swinging in midair. Yet that little dog trusted Nate, trusted him when all of her instincts must have been telling her to scramble, fight, find solid ground. She trusted him, because … because of love.

  I rubbed Luke’s ear. Did he trust me that much?

  More to the point, did I trust him that way? Anyone? Had I ever?

  Nate let his legs drop.

  I moved next to Cooper, hardly able to watch my friend.

  “And he descended into hell,” Cooper muttered.

  Nate slowly moved down the cliff. Foot by foot, a little at a time. I held my breath.

  “Slow down,” Cooper yelled as Sprite swung a little too close.

  “Okay.”

  He started again, then finally, after what seemed like forever, I heard him yell, “Sprite’s down!”

  Thank goodness. That put Nate just six feet up. He’d survive that.

  Then we heard Nate on the radio. “On the ground. Sending up the rope.”

  Cooper looked at me. “The pack?”

  “Right.” I put Luke on a down-stay, walked over to the rigging, clipped the carabiner on the top of Nate’s pack, and locked it.

  “I’ll drop it down,” Cooper said. “You play out the rope, slowly.”

  I was glad I had gloves on.


  “What will he do now?” Tom asked me when we knew the pack was down.

  I closed my eyes momentarily. “He’ll take a water break, let the dog settle, and then he’ll ask his dog to search. She’s trained to find human remains.”

  “Whew, wow,” he responded.

  “To the dogs, it’s just a scent. It means they get their reward. It’s all a game to them.” I sounded so confident. Inside I wasn’t at all. It was never a game to me.

  That’s all the conversation we got in before Nate radioed up. “Found her.”

  I felt a stab of something. Fear, actually. Dread. I knew about this. I knew about death.

  Nate texted a picture to Scott, who tried to show it to me.

  I pretended to look but refused to let my eyes focus. He showed it to the others, and they began hustling. Now there was a homicide investigation to organize.

  I walked away, far enough to convey disinterest, close enough to hear what was going on. I was surprised when Scott yielded to the state trooper, and then Tom yielded to the deputy sheriff, saying it was his county, his case. They were just there to assist.

  That’s the way it should have gone down, but with a bunch of alpha males, you never know.

  I checked my watch. The sun had set twenty minutes ago. Night was falling. I wanted to get out of the woods, but I didn’t want to leave Nate.

  I turned to Cooper. “Can we help Nate get out of there?”

  He radioed down to him. I heard Nate’s voice. “I’m stayin’.”

  A deep chill went through me.

  Now and then we have to spend the night out in the woods, by ourselves, in makeshift shelters, sittin’ over a dead body.

  Cooper looked at me. “He says he’s staying. It could be all night.”

  “He’s equipped to do that. We all are,” I told him. I sounded so sure of myself. I was such a liar.

  “Why? She’s not going anywhere.”

  I took a deep breath. “Predators, vultures … or the perpetrator could come back.”

  Emily heard us. “Nate says ‘Every person is an image-bearer of God, deserving of respect and honor.’ That’s why he stays.”

  Scott raised his eyebrows.

  Emily shrugged.

  Something in me wanted to rise up and defend Nate, but I had no words to use. My phone rang. Nate. “Hey,” I said.

  “Go home, Jess.”

  I turned away from the others. “I don’t want to leave. You might need me, for Sprite or something.” I’d left my other partner, not by choice, but because that’s what happens when you go unconscious. I’m not the type to leave.

  “Ain’t nothing you can do here, Jess.” His voice was soft.

  There was a pause, which I did not fill with an answer.

  “At least go get a motel room.” Another pause. “I done this before, many times. I’ll be fine …”

  Just at that moment, a shot rang out.

  My heart slammed into my chest. All six of us on the top of the cliff dropped to the ground. My phone clattered against the rock, eight feet away.

  I gripped the ground with my fists. The wet smell of the forest filled my nose.

  Luke lay down next to me and pressed his body against me. He licked my ear. He probably thought this was a game. I knew it wasn’t.

  To my left, I could hear Cooper calling for help on his radio. Actually all the LEOs were. Then Cooper touched my arm. “Belly crawl back farther into the woods.” He motioned with his hand. “Go on now. You too,” he said to Emily.

  “My phone!” I whispered.

  “You go now!”

  What right had he …? I glared at Cooper and started to crawl toward my phone. He put his hand on my shoulder and shoved me down. Dirt filled my mouth. Fury flashed through me. When I raised my head, I saw him scrambling to get the phone himself. He threw it at me. “Go!”

  That jerk!

  It was no time to argue. I belly-crawled into the woods to where Emily crouched behind a tree. Luke crawled with me. On the way, I felt my phone vibrate.

  Safely in the woods, I sat up and looked at it. Nate sent me a text: Don’t worry. Found a cleft in the Rock of Ages. I’m safe.

  How odd. What in the world did that mean?

  At least I knew he was alive.

  Within fifteen minutes, darkness had fallen. I knew we were nearly invisible now unless our hunter had night-vision glasses. I heard the sound of a chopper. It was either the FBI or state police—either one would be able to search the woods using infrared. I could barely stand still; my flight-or-fight system was in full flight mode. I felt like a thousand birds were in my gut trying to take off.

  “What should we do?” Emily whispered. We sat low, hiding behind a tree.

  “Just be quiet. Don’t open your phone. Wait until the officers tell us what to do.”

  Cooper crawled over to where we were. I was still spitting mad at him. “The chopper has someone in the woods, west of here.”

  “The shooter?” Emily asked.

  “We’ll know soon enough.” He turned to me. “Nate’s okay. I spoke with him. He’s behind a rock with the dog.”

  That irritated me. All I got was a quote I barely understood.

  I was even more irritated when two deputies came over a few minutes later and said they were ordered to escort us out of the woods and back to our cars.

  Of course I protested. “I don’t want to leave. My partner’s still down there.”

  “Sorry,” the taller deputy said. “You have to.”

  “Says who?” What was I, ten?

  “The sheriff, for one.”

  Emily was getting nervous, I could tell. She plucked at my shirt. “Come on, Jess.”

  But I was used to guys trying to tell me what to do. And I wasn’t about to—

  “Leave, Jess. Now.” Cooper’s voice told me he was in command-and-control mode.

  “But …” I turned, and he stuck his phone in my face.

  Frowning, I took it from him.

  “Hey, girl.” Nate’s voice made my heart settle down a little. “I need you to do something for me. Take Emily and Susan and go to a motel. Settle in. Get some rest. Let the dogs relax. And we’ll debrief in the morning. Okay?”

  “What about you?”

  “Cooper and I have it worked out. He’s pretty strong. He thinks he can safely come down on the rope. When it’s light, the evidence techs will relieve us.” Nate hesitated. “Do it, Jess. Please.”

  My spirit sagged. Unacknowledged fatigue spread over me like sludge. Suddenly, my arms and legs felt heavy, my chest burdened. “All right,” I said softly. “I will.”

  For Nate, I would. Not for Cooper. Not for the sheriff. For Nate.

  24

  I didn’t sleep much that night. Even Luke was restless. I heard him get up, pace around the motel room, and lie down with a huff over and over. It was like we needed closure, needed to see Nate and Sprite come back up that cliff, needed to tie up the ends on that search, making it right.

  I’ll be honest. I was glad I hadn’t seen the young woman, happy I didn’t have to add another body melting into the ground to the scrapbook in my head. I might not be religious, but even I knew that we weren’t just talking about a jumble of flesh and bones. A soul had been snuffed out, the intangible substance of a life.

  I remembered as a twelve-year-old watching the news on 9/11. Seeing the fear on peoples’ faces, the horror, hearing those awful phone calls from people trapped in the towers saying goodbye to their loved ones.

  I remember being told my Dad had died, trying to wrap my head around the fact he was dead, and wondering, as I lay in my bed, just where he was at that moment. It was inconceivable to me that he would just cease to exist.

  Flesh and bones and blood—mere matter—cannot account for love. Or loyalty. Or sacrifice. There had to be something more, but I couldn’t put it all together.

  Emily, Susan, and I were eating breakfast the next morning when Susan got a text from Nate. “He wants to debrief at
ten o’clock, which is good because I have to write the report today.”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “The motel has a small meeting room we can use. Checkout time is at eleven, so why don’t we pack up and check out before that.”

  Fine with me. I was ready to go as soon as I saw Nate was okay.

  I checked out and had everything in my Jeep except Luke. I thought it was too warm for him to be in there, even with the liftgate up. So, I took him into the motel conference room with me and found Emily and Susan clustered around the coffeepot.

  Nate walked in at about 9:50 a.m. with Sprite, who wagged her tail like crazy. He looked exhausted, but he made it a point to ask about each of us—were we able to get some rest, how were the dogs, and stuff like that. It was like we were the ones who’d spent a hard night alone in the forest.

  Scott Cooper entered after Nate. I shot him a look, still angry with him. Tom arrived and then some of the deputies. Apparently, we were all debriefing together.

  The lead sheriff’s deputy, Roger something or other, took control of the briefing. He asked Nate to start.

  I had tensed up as soon as the guys walked in. Even though I was “just a dog handler,” I decided to ask questions. To this day, I’m not sure why.

  Nate reported that it had taken Sprite less than ten minutes to find Sandy’s body. It looked like she’d been tossed off the cliff he’d rappelled down.

  “So, she wasn’t posed?” I asked.

  He frowned a little when he answered, “No.”

  Another deputy said they were still questioning the man they’d picked up the night before. He’d admitted to shooting his rifle, but said he thought he was shooting at a bird. As far as they could tell, he wasn’t connected to the dead woman, and his intent was not to shoot Nate or any of the rest of us. But their investigation would continue.

  “Have you retrieved the slug shot toward Nate?” I asked. I peppered them with more questions. Were they doing ballistics testing? Was there any connection between him and Sandy Smith at all? What kind of rifle did he have? What kind of scope?

  I could feel people staring at me. Like a reactive dog, I was on my toes.

  I glanced toward Cooper to gauge his response.