Rock Harbor Search and Rescue

by Colleen Coble

  Charley’s tail stiffened, and he turned and raced toward the creek.

  “He’s caught it!” Naomi said, running after her dog. Her flashlight beam bounced as she ran with Brandon on her heels.

  Emily ran to catch up, her heart thumping. God, please keep Rachel safe until we can find her. Please.

  FOURTEEN

  The sounds of people and cars fell away as though they had slipped into another world. The forest closed in around them. The wind whispered through the trees, sounding like a high-pitched scream. The moon was all but blocked by the density of the forest. The muffled sounds of insects and small animals scurrying made Emily shiver as she ran to keep up with Naomi, who trailed Charley.

  Brandon’s face was white. “Did you hear that?”

  She nodded. “My old babysitter used to tell me it was the Windigo out on the prowl.”

  He looked uneasy. “Maybe it is.”

  “Are you trying to scare me?”

  He grinned but still looked uneasy. “Maybe.”

  Naomi stopped ahead of them. “Let’s take a break. Charley needs a drink.” She poured water from her bottle into her cupped palm and let the dog lap it up.

  After almost an hour, Emily was glad to sit on an old log with Naomi and Brandon. She was tired of thrashing behind Charley in the vegetation. And the night was so dark, it was creepy. Charley had lost the scent about ten minutes ago. He crisscrossed the clearing, searching for the lost trail with his muzzle in the air.

  Naomi handed Emily the water bottle and pushed away a lock of hair that had escaped her braid.

  Emily took a long sip, then handed it back to Naomi.

  Naomi grinned and put the water bottle back in her bag. “Time to get moving again. Charley’s lost the trail.” She whistled, and Charley came to her. He shook himself. She knelt and took his golden head in her hands and stared into his dark eyes. “I know you’re trying, buddy, and that it’s hard without Samson here,” she whispered.

  He whined and sniffed the air as if determined not to let her down. Or Samson. He ran ahead, then began to bark.

  Emily’s adrenaline kicked into overdrive as Naomi leaped to her feet. “He’s found the scent again.”

  Fatigue forgotten, Emily followed Naomi and Charley again with Brandon beside her. The dog bounded toward a steep hill covered with vines and the small trunks of new-growth pine and birch. Naomi and Emily followed, trying to keep the dog in sight with their flashlights.

  Emily loved to watch Charley and Samson work. Over the summer, she’d spent at least three days every week at the training school. All the “students” practiced in the meadow at the top of the hill and worked by zigzagging in a circle with their noses held high as they tried to catch the scent cone. It was funny at times, when one dog would catch the scent of a rabbit instead and try to give chase. She couldn’t wait to get her puppy and start training him to search. She had to clear her name and get that puppy. She just had to.

  Suddenly Charley began to bark, then ran toward an object along the riverbank. Emily shone her flashlight where the dog ran. A flash of red drew her attention, and Emily squinted as she settled the beam of light on the object. “What’s that, Naomi?”

  “I think it’s a backpack!” Naomi ran after Charley.

  Emily ran faster, trying to keep up. The light from their flashlights bounced and bobbed. The dog picked up a stick, his signal of a find, and brought it to Naomi. She paused long enough to praise her dog, then followed him to the backpack.

  Naomi turned to Emily and Brandon. “This is Rachel’s. She’s been here.” She bent to Charley. “Good boy.” She held the open backpack under his nose, letting him get a good whiff. “Search!” she commanded as she stood.

  Charley took off. Naomi slung the red pack over her shoulder, then she was running after the dog, the light from her flashlight bouncing. Brandon followed them.

  Emily climbed another hill, stopping to catch her breath as she spied Charley in her flashlight’s beam, zigzagging at the bottom. He’d lost the scent. Or had Rachel doubled back? She and Timmy had done that when they’d been lost in the woods. Not on purpose, but because they’d gotten turned around. They’d been “loster than lost,” as Timmy had claimed.

  Emily smiled at the memory of Timmy’s phrase, then considered maybe Rachel had gotten turned around as well. Perhaps that was why Charley went back and forth as he tried to keep the scent. Before Emily could holler at Naomi, Charley bounded off in another direction and Naomi rushed to follow, Brandon close on their heels.

  Emily shrugged out of the ready-kit backpack and hung it loosely over her arm. The wind whistled through the trees. She shined the light on the path she’d taken, looking for any movement. All those stories about the Windigo played across her mind. What if the Windigo was real?

  Her heart pounded. No, monsters weren’t real. She knew that. Emily let out a slow breath and started down the hill. She stepped on a rock and felt her ankle give. She threw her hand out, hoping to grab a limb, a tree, a vine . . . anything. Her fingers met with nothing but air. And then her arms pinwheeled as she pitched forward. There was nothing to grab hold of, and she screamed.

  Her right shoulder slammed against the rocky ground. Pain radiated across her back and up her neck. The momentum of her fall threw her legs over her head, then her head over her legs, over and over as she tumbled down the hill.

  Suddenly, she was jerked to a stop as something sharp grabbed at her hair and jacket and scraped across her skin. Emily couldn’t even scream as the air was knocked from her lungs. Her hair jerked her head sideways. It’s the Windigo, she thought frantically, too terrified to even reach up and try to pull herself free. Maybe it was dragging her to its cave. Emily found her voice and shrieked.

  With every inch of courage she had, Emily pulled hard. She heard a loud rip of fabric as she tore her jacket, and her hair pulled painfully before it finally gave and she rolled free. She tumbled farther down the hill before her shoulder slammed into a stump and she came to a stop.

  She let out a long breath as her heart raced. She sat up, hissing in pain. Her shoulder was on fire, but she knew she couldn’t stay where she was. What if the Windigo was coming after her? Something rustled in the trees, and goose bumps pebbled her arms as she stood. “Wh-who’s there?” A bunny hopped across the path. She felt almost faint with relief. Not the Windigo.

  Thank you, Lord.

  Emily groaned as the pain in her right shoulder increased. She found her flashlight on the ground nearby and turned it on with her left arm. She shone the light on her painful arm. Her sleeve was torn, and a really nasty, deep scratch bled below it.

  Emily jerked her flashlight around—there was no sign of Naomi, Brandon, or the Windigo. She couldn’t even hear Charley barking or thrashing through the woods. It was just her, hurt and alone, like last time. Except last time, she’d had Timmy with her. She’d had to be strong for him. Now she had no one.

  Except God.

  I’m so glad you’re here, God. She worked her way up to sitting on the stump, testing her legs. So far, so good. She stood and wobbled for a minute, then felt the earth straighten under her feet. She swung her flashlight around up the hill, looking for a way back up. It was too steep for her to climb up with her hurt shoulder. Then she spotted a bush with a piece of her jacket hanging from its bare branches. She giggled nervously. That’s what she’d been caught on—at least it hadn’t been the Windigo! She was glad no one had been around to see her fighting with a bush—how embarrassing! Almost as embarrassing as it was going to be to call Naomi and Brandon and admit she was lost.

  Emily was so relieved that she prayed aloud, “Thanks, God. Now, if you could just help me find Naomi without me having to call and tell her I got lost . . .”

  “Who are you talking to, Emily?”

  Emily spun around as best she could, considering she was still a little dizzy from her fall, and shone her flashlight at Rachel Zinn. “Where have you been, Rachel? Your father’s worried s
ick, and the sheriff and the search-and-rescue team are looking for you.”

  “Get that light out of my eyes.” Rachel shielded her eyes with her hand, her own flashlight pointing downward.

  “Oh. Sorry.” Emily moved the light. “Everybody’s looking for you. Are you okay?” Rachel didn’t look hurt. Or scared. Emily wasn’t feeling too sorry for her at the moment.

  “I just wanted some time alone. To think.” Rachel stuck out her chin and tossed her hair over her shoulder in that annoying way of hers.

  “So you come out in the middle of the woods, in the dark?” Emily glanced around. Maybe Rachel had hidden the necklace out here.

  “No.” Even in the dim glow from the flashlights, Rachel looked annoyed. “I didn’t realize it was so late. By the time I needed to head home, it’d gotten dark and . . .” Her expression turned to one Emily identified all too well with: embarrassment.

  “You got turned around? It happens to most everybody, you know,” Emily said softly as she lowered herself back down to the stump. Her arm and shoulder hurt something awful. Where had the ready-kit backpack fallen?

  “I did. And then . . . well, my cell battery died so I couldn’t even call anyone.” Rachel’s voice cracked.

  “Your dad is worried sick.” Emily felt around for her cell phone. There it was in her pocket.

  “Yeah. Sure. Right.” Rachel sat down on the ground and pulled her knees to her chest. “He’d be better off without me being such a disappointment to him.”

  “Don’t say that. He told Naomi that you were all he had left.” Did Mr. Zinn not let Rachel know how much she meant to him? Even when Dad was mad at her, he always let her know he loved her. Despite Rachel’s bratty behavior, Emily felt sorry for her. Emily moved to reach for Rachel’s hand but stopped. She pulled out her cell and dialed Naomi’s number.

  “He sure doesn’t act like he cares.” Rachel rested her cheek on her knees.

  The call was picked up on the other end. “Emily! Where are you? Are you okay?” Naomi sounded as worried as Mr. Zinn had.

  Emily’s throat tightened at the concern in Naomi’s voice. Right now, she felt like a little kid, and all she wanted to do was burrow into Naomi’s arms. “I’m fine. Kinda. I fell down a hill and cut myself, but I’m okay.”

  “Oh, thank the Lord that you’re okay. I couldn’t find you and nearly panicked. I’m trying to round up Charley, but the scent cone must be eluding him because I swear we’re going back the way we came. Where are you?”

  “I’m at the base of the hill from where we sat on the log and had water.”

  Naomi’s shrill whistle sounded over the connection. “I know the area. We’re on the way. Stay where you are.”

  “Okay. Naomi?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Rachel’s with me.”

  “Is she hurt?”

  She glanced over at Rachel, still curled up. “No.” Her feelings were, but she looked to be physically better off than Emily.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Emily shoved her cell back into her pocket and stared down at Rachel. She didn’t know how to comfort her. After all, she’d overheard Mr. Zinn and had been really grateful he wasn’t her dad. Maybe a change of subject would help. “Rachel, I know this probably isn’t the best time, but I’m just wondering . . .”

  Rachel lifted her head and shone her flashlight at Emily’s feet. “Yeah?”

  “Wh-why do you hate me so much?” She licked her dry lips. Olivia would be proud—being direct without sarcasm.

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “I know you think I planned to steal Mrs. Dancer’s necklace, but you’re wrong. You and Gretchen misheard me with the water running and the echoes in the bathroom. I said I planned to sell my copy of the necklace, not swap it. Gretchen’s already helped me figure that out.”

  Rachel tilted her chin up. “I know what I heard.”

  “I wouldn’t steal, Rachel. Really. I think you know me better than that. And we used to be friends.”

  Rachel looked away. “Maybe. I mean . . . I guess you maybe could’ve said sell.”

  Emily swallowed, grateful the darkness hid her blush. “You’ve been really mean to me for a while now. You look at me like I’m a nasty bug you need to squish or something.” She shook her head. “We were good friends before middle school. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me. Whatever it was, I don’t even know I did it.”

  Rachel laughed. “You just don’t get it, do you?”

  Why was she laughing? Emily bit her tongue. She’d tried to be sincere.

  “Ever since you beat me in the fifth-grade spelling bee, my dad has compared me to you. Every single awards ceremony, you’d get at least one more award than I did. Every time I turned around, I got to hear how smart you were. Why couldn’t I apply myself as much as Donovan O’Reilly’s little girl?” Rachel’s voice turned as cold as normal. “I get sick of hearing how perfect you are, day in and day out.”

  “Come on. Rachel, you can’t be serious. You’re president of our class. You’re a JV cheerleader. You’re Miss Popular.” She waved a hand at her, then winced with the burning. “And look at you—you’re beautiful. Everyone thinks so.” Blond hair, blue eyes, and petite as opposed to uncontrollable dark curls, curves that made Emily blush, and an awkward height that often put her taller than some of the boys her age.

  Rachel snorted. “Oh please—I would kill to look like you. You have that gorgeous curly hair, you’re tall, and you actually have curves. All of the guys think you’re pretty. And none of my activities are good enough for my father.” She stretched her legs out in front of her, shoving leaves across the ground, and mimicked her father’s grave tone. “Colleges don’t care who the cheerleaders or popular kids were, Rachel, but they all take notice of which students got the most scholarships. Who won the most academic awards. Who starred in the History Smackdown win.” She stood. “Dad doesn’t give me any credit. It’s never good enough. Not when he has you to compare me to. Just when I think I’ve done something to make him proud, you have to go out and one-up me. I think he wishes he had you for a daughter instead of me.”

  Like that was her fault? Emily swallowed the bitter reply sitting on the tip of her tongue. She remembered how she’d felt when her dad had believed Rachel over her—it hurt. It must hurt even worse to feel that your dad would rather have a different daughter—even if it wasn’t true.

  “I’m sorry. I never intend to one-up anyone. Really.” And she was. None of this was her fault, but she could understand how Rachel felt. It wasn’t Rachel’s fault either. “And I saw your dad before we came to look for you. He was a mess. He loves you, Rachel, and I know he’s proud of you. I want my dad to be proud of me too, you know—that’s part of why I study really hard. But I do it for me too.”

  Rachel stared at her for a long moment.

  Emily sighed. “Dads are supposed to push us, I guess. Your dad was really worried, Rachel. I know he loves you, just like my dad loves me. I was just trying to work hard for my dad the way you do for yours. I’ve never tried to make you look bad or show you up on purpose. And I’ve never understood why we stopped being friends. It really hurt my feelings.”

  Rachel chewed her lip, then slowly nodded. “I guess you’re right. I’m sorry for being so mean. I’ve just been so angry, but it was wrong to take it out on you.” She shone her flashlight on Emily. “Oh my goodness. Your arm.” She rushed to Emily’s side, shining the light on the scratch.

  It hadn’t stopped bleeding entirely but had slowed considerably. It sure hurt like everything, though.

  “That looks pretty deep. You might even need stitches.” Rachel looked around. “Do you have anything to put on this?”

  “Yeah.” She flashed the light around and spied the ready-kit backpack on the ground about three feet away. She nodded toward it. “That pack. Open up the center part. There should be a first aid kit in there. Do guys really think I’m pretty?”

  “Yeah, they do,” Rachel said
. “I think Brandon really likes you.”

  Emily blushed.

  Charley barked. Close.

  Rachel jumped.

  “It’s just my stepmom and her SAR dog.”

  Rachel gave a nervous smile. “Thought it might be the Windigo, you know?” She chuckled. “Did you believe that story as a kid?”

  Emily nodded. “Every last word. I was terrified.” And for a little while tonight, she’d thought maybe the Windigo had come for her at last. She shivered.

  “It’s crazy, the legends from this county.”

  Charley bounded up to Emily, jumping up on her and nearly knocking her off the stump. “Whoa, boy.”

  Naomi rushed to Emily and gave her a hug. “Oh my. We’d better treat this before we head out.” She took the first aid kit from Rachel. “I called the sheriff. He’s let your father know we found you and that you’re all right. He’s very relieved.” She pulled presoaked Betadine towelettes from packages and squeezed them over Emily’s scratch.

  Coldness seeped into her, followed immediately by stinging. “Ouch. Where’s Brandon?”

  “Sorry.” Naomi reached for the antibacterial cream and oozed some over the wound, then covered it with a large bandage. “He went to lead the sheriff here. There. That’ll have to do until we get out of here.” She shoved the supplies back into the first aid kit, then jammed it all back into the pack and slung it on her back. “Are you girls ready?”

  Rachel nodded. Emily stood slowly. “Yeah.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay to walk?”

  “I’m fine. My shoulder is killing me and my ankle’s a little sore, but I can walk on it.”

  Naomi studied her for a minute, then nodded and started out. “Rachel, why don’t you tell me how you ended up out here in the first place?”

  Emily smiled as she listened to Rachel explain she’d just come out to be alone and got turned around.

  Thank you, God, for watching out for both of us. And for giving Rachel and me a chance to talk.

  FIFTEEN

  “Oh dear, don’t try to reach.” From her seat across the table, Grandma Heinonen pushed the basket of rolls from the center of the table toward Emily. “We don’t want you hurting yourself further.”