Thunder Island

by Meryl Sawyer

  Finally, the bomb expert managed to make his laptop focus on Key West, and Kyle left him, promising to teach him how to zoom closer.

  “Now we’re going to learn how to throw a net around an area,” Kyle said, watching Jennifer and Brody. The SEAL didn’t stand up; he was still hunched over Jennifer.

  “In case of a terrorist attack, use your computer’s mouse to outline an area. We call it ‘throwing a net.’ The satellite’s camera constantly updates your computer, telling you if anything inside the net has moved.”

  “Wouldn’t there be a number of mobile targets in the zone?” asked Jennifer.

  Kyle gave her credit for instantly perceiving a potential problem. “Yes. There usually will be many moving objects. You place the cursor on one and hit the star key.”

  “Just like radar,” commented Mike. “Zero in on a single target, mark it, then track it.”

  “Right,” Kyle told the sharpshooter, although it was more complicated than that. “When the target moves, you can track him, knowing his last position because your cursor has marked it.”

  They spent the rest of the morning learning how to differentiate types of moving objects within the net. Brody managed to tear himself away to help one of the other men, but most of the time he was huddled with Jennifer who didn’t need the help the way some of the other men did.

  “Now, I want you to click on—”

  A shrill beep beep interrupted Kyle’s explanation.

  Jennifer grabbed her cell phone out of her backpack and answered it. She muttered a few words, then snapped it shut. All the color leached from her face, and a stricken expression replaced her smile. Kyle jumped to his feet, ready to go over to her, but Jennifer quickly regained her composure.

  “S&R needs Sadie,” she explained. “A little girl has disappeared on Big Pine Key.”

  Kyle let out a sigh of relief. It was just a rescue mission. From the grim look on her face, he’d been expecting something far worse.

  He watched Jennifer rise from her chair, all tousled blond hair and slim, tanned legs in cut-offs cropped too short. Okay, okay, maybe her cut-offs weren’t any shorter than normal, but he didn’t like the way the men’s heads swiveled in her direction, their state-of-the-art laptops forgotten.

  “The sheriff is waiting,” Jennifer explained, tapping Sadie on the shoulder.

  The bloodhound gazed around, groggy, then shifted to her feet. Her ears and belly barely cleared the floor as the dog took a halting step forward. Miami Dade’s Search and Rescue K-9 star left a lot to the imagination.

  “Brody, take over,” he said. “I have some special equipment they can use.”

  His laptop under his arm, he walked out of the room, glancing over his shoulder to see Brody step forward to take his place. “Wait,” he called to Jennifer as she sprinted out of the building. Amazingly, Sadie looped along beside her.

  “I don’t need you,” Jennifer said. “I’ve got my S&R kit in my trunk.”

  She was out of the building and into the nearby parking lot before he could respond. The Jeep she dashed up to had a sign on the door: Miami-Dade Search and Rescue. On the back fender was a Go Gators! sticker. Sadie at her side, Jennifer popped open the rear door and grabbed a military-style backpack.

  He rushed up to her. “Listen, I’ve got the latest Kevlar jumpsuits and boots.”

  “I don’t have time,” she told him without looking in his direction. She grabbed the backpack and slammed the door shut. “The first hour is the golden hour. After that, Sadie’s chance of locating the child is next to nil.”

  He blocked her with his body, and she slammed into him. She gazed up at him with those wide blue eyes. For an instant, he would have sworn a charge of sexual chemistry arced between them. But he must have been mistaken. She stepped back, jaw jutting out, eyes narrow slits.

  He grabbed the half unzipped pack from her hands. “You’re going to wear these waders in this heat?” he asked, pointing to rubber boots. “I’ve got lighter, safer equipment.”

  She hesitated a moment, and he had the distinct feeling she was battling some inner demon. “Hurry up. Wasting time might cost the child’s life.”

  He gazed down at her, saying, “Tell me you want to wear that heavy gear when I have equipment I’m testing for Special Forces. Kevlar with Thermalscan. Not only does it protect your body from a bullet or a snake bite, it knows where your body is hot or cold and adjusts the fabric.”

  “Really?” she said incredulously as she looked down at the heavy vinyl jumpsuit in her pack.

  “Absolutely. In this heat, that thing will make you sweat like being in a sauna.”

  She tossed the heavy jumpsuit aside, grabbed the backpack, and said, “Lead the way.”

  As it turned out, the men’s small Kevlar jumpsuit hung on Jennifer like a choir robe, but she was thrilled with it.

  “This is great,” she said, and for once she wasn’t looking at him as if he were slime. “The boots are a little big, but they’re so much better than those heavy waders.”

  “What size are you? I’ll order one that fits.”

  She hesitated just a fraction of a second, then said, “The manufacturer will do that for you?”

  “Sure. These jumpsuits are expensive, but if Special Forces tries them out and likes them, the company will get orders. Same for S&R.”

  “Thanks.” The word was garbled as if he’d choked it out of her. “I’m outta here.”

  He grabbed the laptop off the counter. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No. You’ll just get in our way.”

  “Can you handle Sadie and the laptop at the same time?”

  “The laptop … Ah.” She paused, and he could almost hear the wheels spinning in her pretty head. The laptop was a valuable tool, yet she was just beginning to understand how to use it. “You’ve got two minutes to get into a jumpsuit and meet me at the car. If you’re not ready, I’m leaving without you. S&R doesn’t require fancy laptops. I’ve done just fine without one.”

  He changed into the Kevlar jumpsuit he had put aside while trying to fit Jennifer. The military had switched from olive green to the woodland camouflage pattern, but the suit was still drab olive. His Brietling said less than a minute had passed when he strode up to the car. Jennifer had on a military-issue equipment belt with a radio carrier, canteen holder, magazine case, radio attachment, and other items hanging from Alice clips. The smart gun was in the holster by her right hip.

  “Let’s lighten your load.” He handed her the newest prototype canteen of super lightweight plastic. He pulled out the heavier canteen and slid the new one into the slot on her belt. Holding up two Velcro strips, he said, “Get rid of the handcuffs and its clip. Put these in your pocket.”

  She did as she was told, but eyed him with suspicion. “I’ve never run into any drug runners in the woods, but lots of S&R teams have. I’m not sure I could hold a gun on them and get the cuffs on at the same time.”

  He bit back a comment about her holding a gun on anyone. “Cuffing a perp with one hand is a lost art.”

  “So’s hog calling.”

  He chuckled, noticing she was now joking with him. It wasn’t progress exactly but it was a damn sight closer than before.

  The choke collar Jennifer put on Sadie instantly energized the dog. She bounced up and down on all fours like a bloodhound on uppers, furiously wagging her tail. Jennifer made a chopping motion with a closed fist, and the dog leaped onto the backseat of the Jeep.

  “Sadie knows she’s going to work. The choker is the signal.”

  “Amazing. She usually moves as fast as a postal worker.”

  “Let’s go,” she cried, seeming more anxious than a professional should be. Surely, she’d tracked lost children before. “We’ve wasted enough time.”

  “I’ll drive.” He handed her the laptop. “Consider this field experience. You run the computer.”

  He drove north along the Overseas Highway, which went through the chain of keys. Some of the island
s were large like Key West, but many others weren’t more than a wide spot in the road with barely more than a few feet of sand on each side. In a storm, waves crashed across the road, making it impassable in places.

  The early April sun was bright, glistening off the turquoise sea, even though it was late afternoon. Once they left Stock Island north of Key West, the area became less populated. Stretches of sugar fine-sand beaches were interrupted by trees and dense brush. Away from the water, the lower keys were wooded and filled with wildlife. Single lane dirt roads led farther and farther into the mangroves.

  Birds of prey loved the area. Red-tailed hawks, eagles, falcons. Drug runners.

  “You know about the poisonous snakes down here?” he asked, deciding it was a good idea to bring the smart gun he was testing for Colt.

  Her head was bent and her nose wrinkled as she concentrated on the tiny screen. He fought the insane urge to slide one arm around her. What was he, crazy? She’d probably whack him.

  “Cottonmouths, diamondbacks, and the most deadly of all, the beautiful coral snake,” she said without looking away from the screen. “The first thing S&R does is study the terrain. I expected snakes, but I didn’t know anything about the poisonous trees.”

  Jennifer was much more intelligent and intense than he remembered. Her hostility toward him hid something, he decided. Okay, so he wasn’t a world class kisser, but he was still going to prove to her that she didn’t love Chad “Spike” Roberts. No way.

  “The little girl wandered away from the Deer Watch Camp on Big Pine Key. Do you know where it is?”

  “Sure. It’s a campground in the mangroves where tourists come to see the Key deer. They’re only about two and a half feet tall when full grown. They’re a subspecies of the Virginia white-tailed—”

  “You can spare me the lecture. I read up on them. I drove through Big Pine on my way down here. I didn’t see any deer, though. I’m guessing the key is a little less than one degree north of Key West, right?” She looked up at him with those moody blue eyes.

  “Correct. Did you study lat+lon positioning when you trained for Search and Rescue?”

  “Yes, but we rely on a compass. I wear mine on a chain around my neck during a search. You won’t believe how lost you can get in the woods.”

  Hell, yes, he would. He’d been lost in the rain forest once. Only when he’d found a clearing illegally stripped of rare orchids and he could see the stars did he find his way out. He didn’t mention the incident, not wanting to explain where he’d been. Or what he’d been doing.

  A gurgling noise came from the back, and Kyle glanced over his shoulder. Sadie was sitting up, her head lolling from side to side, emphasizing her deeply wrinkled skin and droopy eyes.

  “What’s wrong with Sadie?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Sadie’s excited. She lives for mantrailing. Most of the time she’s bored silly.”

  He reached back and gave the dog a pat, stroking her long, silky ears.

  “I’ve got Big Pine Key on the screen, but there’s a time flashing in the upper left corner. It says 3:30. That was almost an hour ago.”

  “The time flashing means the satellite is out of range, and the photograph on the screen is an hour old. You have to wait until it comes back over us or switch to another satellite, which is tricky.”

  “Okay, so tell me how to switch to the EPA satellite.”

  “It’s only for environmental use. The military doesn’t have the codes.” This was a half-truth. He had the codes from his mission to Libya. The military wasn’t supposed to use it, but in special, high-risk situations, they did. “Switch to Fat Albert by hitting the backspace bar, then typing in FAT in caps.”

  “What is Fat Albert?” she asked as she typed.

  “It’s a blimp on Cudjoe Key. It’s loaded with fancy electronics to keep an eye on the drug runners in the area.”

  “It’s not working,” she said, exasperated.

  “Did you hit Enter?”

  She slapped the side of her face. “Well, duh!” She tapped the key. “Oh, my God. Look at this.”

  Chapter 8

  “What’s wrong?” Kyle asked, taking a quick look at her screen. It showed a woman crying, probably the child’s mother, and a group of deputies milling about the campground.

  “They’re tromping all over the scene. Sadie will never be able to pick up a scent,” she said with unconcealed anger. “I knew it. I just knew it. When I checked in with the sheriff, he was so condescending. He claimed he understood how to work with S&R—if he ever needed them.”

  The sheriff’s attitude didn’t surprise Kyle. Despite some progress, there was a macho approach toward women in many police forces. Even a pretty woman trained to handle a bloodhound.

  “What’s the sheriff supposed to do?” Kyle asked, although he had a good idea. He wanted Jennifer to talk to him.

  “Cordon off the area. Keep everyone back until we arrive. That way Sadie can easily pick up a scent.”

  “Is there a chance she still can?”

  Jennifer reached back and fondled Sadie’s long ears. “A chance, a very slim chance.”

  “How does scent tracing work exactly?” he asked, again prompting her to talk.

  “Everyone sheds minute particles of skin as they move.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, yet there was a serious undertone. “They also lose hair, but not as much. Fibers from their clothes drop as well. Sadie ‘locks on’ to the scent and follows it.”

  “Nose to the ground,” he said over his shoulder to the bloodhound. “Right, old girl?”

  “Sadie is different than a tracker dog who is trained to sniff the ground. Those dogs are searching for the smell of crushed leaves and grass as much as they are the person’s scent. Mantrailers like Sadie can go to ground or sniff the wind and pick up the scent where it catches on underbrush or drifts through the air.”

  “Really?” He reached back and gave Sadie a quick pat. “Impressive.”

  “Sadie can trail a man in a boat or a car,” added Jennifer with unmistakable pride. “She’s found bodies underwater.”

  “Underwater? How?”

  “A dead body releases a powerful gas that rises to the surface. All I have to do is take Sadie out on a boat, and she’ll bark when she smells the gas.”

  “How do you give her a dead person’s scent to follow?”

  “Body-in-a-bottle. I keep a small vial of fluid distilled from a cadaver in my backpack. On searches, there’s always a chance the person will fall into water and drown. I just might need to bring out the vial today and give Sadie a whiff.” She threw back her head and gazed at the Jeep’s ceiling, raw anguish charging her voice now. “Let’s hope that arrogant jerk of a sheriff didn’t cost this little girl her life by not calling for us immediately.”

  It was easy to see how upset Jennifer was about the lost child. She truly cared; it wasn’t just a job to her. As much as he admired her sensitivity, he knew how dangerous emotion was in the field. It was a lesson he’d learned in the school of hard knocks, a lesson that had damn near cost him his life.

  Even though he had made it out of Libya alive, his leg had been shattered. He could walk and run, but he no longer had the agility and peak performance necessary for Seal 6 missions. The career he loved ended thanks to a lapse of cool, unemotional judgment. Because of a woman.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Sadie, determined to change the subject. “I want to see you in action.” He thought a moment as he drove into Big Pine Key. “Where did you get Sadie? She must have cost a hunk of change.”

  What the hell was wrong? Something had shifted in the depths of her steady gaze, warning him … of what? “I picked Sadie from a litter of my stepfather’s last bloodhound bitch. I raised her and trained her myself.”

  He sensed he should proceed with caution. The was something in the past troubling her, but he knew she wasn’t ready to talk to him about it. Yet.

  Silence filled the car, charging the strange tension binding them. And keepi
ng them apart. They passed a telephone pole where an osprey was making a graceful landing on a nest at the very top. Kyle pointed to the bird, trying to make conversation.

  “Ospreys mate for life and return to the same nest year after year. See how big the nest is?” Jennifer nodded. “They add a little to it every year. That pair has been together a long time.”

  Another silence fell between them. Usually the quiet didn’t bother him. He wasn’t a man who felt the need to talk. He enjoyed comfortable silences when he was with friends.

  This, however, wasn’t one of those companionable lapses in a conversation. He forced himself to keep talking. “We’re on Big Pine Key now. Keep your eye out for the miniature deer that live in the brush. There are so few left that they’re almost extinct. That makes them a tourist attraction.”

  “It’s just tourist hype. I didn’t see any on the drive down.”

  Her answer was as flat as the tidepool they were passing, but just like the small pool of water, there was a whole other world beneath the surface. Once again, he wondered what had happened to Jenny during the time they’d been apart. Where in hell had she acquired the skill to train a bloodhound?

  “Sadie must be highly skilled to be on the new antiterrorist team.”

  “Yes, last year I took Sadie to Extreme Bloodhound Training Camp, then we went to the National Police Bloodhound Association for their seminar. I used Sadie to demonstrate solutions to mantrailing problems.”

  “Like what?”

  “Water causes the most problems for mantrailers. Scent rises from the water, then drifts on the wind. Dogs bark the minute they catch the scent. That does not mean the body is directly beneath the boat. You need to take a small handful of baby powder and toss it in the air. Watching closely, you’ll be able to determine the wind direction. Following the powder’s drift pattern, Sadie barks again when the scent becomes stronger. It’s a difficult skill for a dog to acquire.”

  Once again pride swelled in his chest. Jennifer wasn’t just another pretty face. The Jenny he’d remembered had grown up the way he’d expected, becoming an interesting, competent woman.