Soul Scent: A Zackie Story (The Zackie Stories Book 2)

by Reyna Favis

  Staging was in the main parking lot of Kittatinny Valley State Park and a quick look around told me that only a handful of searchers had been able to make it during working hours. In contrast, the place was lousy with little girls dressed in brownie uniforms. There were close to twenty girls, all around seven to eight years old, milling around the parking lot in various states of excitement. Three ashen-faced adults, presUmably the troop leaders, faced Peyton as she fired off questions and then leaned forward, cupping a hand to one ear as the little girls chimed in energetically, offering their take on the situation. Two park rangers stood by, a study in stoicism, while the cacophony enveloped them.

  “But you’re going to find her, right?” The little girl tugged at Peyton’s sleeve. Her face was white with fear and she was close to crying.

  “We’re going to work really, really hard to find her. Okay, honey?” Returning her attention to the questionnaire, Peyton asked the adults another question. She stood with slumped shoulders and an untucked shirt tail. Dark circles formed half moons under bloodshot eyes and she yawned as she jotted down responses. There were smudges on her glasses from her near constant eye rubbing.

  I put out my hand for the clipboard and Peyton sighed with relief. “Take a break. I’ll finish filling this out.”

  “Thanks. I gotta lie down a moment. Come get me when you’re done.” She nodded to the park rangers and moved away with a plodding step, head down and hands in her pockets.

  Peyton had managed to fill in all the relevant subject information in the missing person questionnaire. The missing little girl was Chelsea Butcher from Harmony. She had freckles, brown hair and brown eyes, stood four foot two and weighed about sixty pounds. No medical disabilities, recent illnesses, allergies or phobias. I smiled as I read in the form that she was a non-smoker and had no criminal history. My faith in humanity restored, I forged on with the questionnaire.

  “Let me guess, Chelsea was wearing a brownie uniform?” The troop leaders nodded and I filled this in. “Have her parents been notified?”

  The troop leader with short, dark hair nodded at me. “I called her father and he’s driving here right now. Chelsea’s mother abandoned the family last month. Just up and left them.”

  I flipped the comments box to take some free-hand notes. “How has that affected her?”

  “Well, she used to be very outgoing and she had a really sunny personality. Lately, she’s been withdrawn and just really fragile, crying easily and very sensitive.” The dark haired woman shrugged helplessly. “But Chelsea was really looking forward to this trip. It was the first time in a long time that she seemed like her old self.”

  I nodded and scribbled down that Chelsea was likely depressed due to abandonment by her mother. Flipping the form back to the standard questions, I found my place and poised my pen for the next answer. “How about footwear? Do you know what she’s wearing or what her shoe size is?” The troop leaders looked blankly at each other and shook their heads.

  “Chelsea has flashy light sneakers,” a little girl called from my elbow.

  I filled this in and asked, “So, if we look for the blinking lights, we should find her?”

  “I dunno. She mighta left them home.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Was she wearing the flashy light sneakers today?”

  “I dunno, but she has flashy light sneakers.” The little girl nodded at me, her eyes wide.

  “Okay, good to know.” I crossed out this information and wrote ‘unknown’ in the footwear section. “Did she maybe leave a sweater or a bag?” These would make great scent articles for the search dogs and I crossed my fingers.

  The adults conferred and the one with blonde hair answered. “No, the weather was supposed to be warm today, so we didn’t tell them to bring sweaters. Bags would get lost, so they don’t bring those either.”

  “How about the last place people saw Chelsea?”

  “She was at the bathroom with me,” squeaked a voice from behind.

  A tall dark haired girl standing to the side crossed her arms over her chest. “No she wasn’t. That was Jessica.”

  “Oh yeah,” the squeaking voice agreed and then tried again. “On the bus?”

  This might be important. I turned around to try to find the squeaking girl. “Did Chelsea sit with you on the bus?”

  “Not with me, but she came on the bus with us.” The squeaker was joined by a number of other voices, all agreeing that she came on the bus with them.

  I turned back to the adults. “Do you know where she sat on the bus?” If we had this information, we could scent a dog off of the seat. Kittatinny would be a bitch to search using air scent dogs because of its size. I was holding out hope that we could use a trailing dog to find her fast.

  The troop leaders whispered to each other and the blonde answered for them again, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “We don’t know.”

  “That’s okay. You’ve all done your best and been very helpful.” As I stepped away to find Peyton and give her the dismal update, the blonde troop leader stumbled to the brush to throw up. On my way to the team trailer, I ran into Cam and Zackie.

  “What’s the good news?” Cam pointed with his chin towards the clipboard.

  “I got nothin’ and I need to tell Peyton.” I trudged on and found Peyton behind the trailer talking to Sandra, an elfin brunette sporting a pixie cut. Peyton towered over the other woman and I entertained the thought that their conversation might involve yelling to each other because of the dramatic difference in height.

  Peyton interrupted herself when she saw me. “What did you find out?”

  “Other than the fact that she’s dressed in a brownie uniform, they don’t know anything about what’s on her feet, so we can’t look for tracks. We have no scent articles from the girl and they have no idea where she was last seen, so we can’t even begin a dog from a general start area.”

  “Aren’t you a little ray of sunshine?” Peyton frowned at me and then turned her gaze back to Sandra. “I had to help run the search, so Simber’s home. You got Baby Jax with you?” Baby Jax was a Dutch Shepherd renowned as much for his drive as his oddly asymmetric ears, one standing and the other floppy. Because his tail would wag furiously when he worked a trail, he was sometimes called Helicopter Butt by the team.

  “He’s in my truck. What do you need?” Sandra half turned, ready to get her dog.

  Peyton shrugged. “There are five searchers on site and no one aside from the rangers and me and Fia has gone to where the brownies set up for the day. How about we try a missing member search?”

  Sandra nodded. “We can try. You and Fia go over and stand with the brownies and I’ll go get Jax.”

  Before we walked back to the brownies, Peyton poked her head into the trailer and asked for operations to document this as task one and to radio any searchers on scene to stay back and away from the brownie horde, so they wouldn’t scent contaminate the area. I was relieved to find that the trailer held no special vibe. The Lenape man was either not around or keeping his distance. Either way, it worked for me, since it made for one less distraction during a search.

  Upon reaching the troop of brownies, we organized the girls, the troop leaders and the park rangers into a circle that we joined. When Sandra showed up with Baby Jax, he was already in harness and she led him around the circle at a distance to let him get familiar with whatever scents were around. She then brought him to the circle of people and had him take a whiff of everyone, all the while telling the dog ‘No.’ Passing me, the dog took a whiff of my outstretched hands and then lay down in front of me, executing three quick barks.

  “What the…” Sandra looked confused for a moment and then nodded her head. Taking me aside, she asked, “Fia, have you been handling source? That’s Baby Jax’s human remains detection alert.”

  Crap. Baby Jax had sniffed out the dead hand. I nodded and said, “Yeah, I’ve been helping to train some new HRD dogs.”

  “Maybe double glove next
time.” Sandra shook her head, disgusted and went back to getting her dog to negative on everyone.

  When the last person had been sniffed, Sandra looped the long lead behind her back, braced herself and then told Baby Jax to go find. The dog’s head snapped to the left and he took off, nearly pulling Sandra off her feet as she leaned back hard into the loop of leash. Baby Jax followed the only scent that wasn’t accounted for among the humans he had checked. By process of elimination, we hoped he had found Chelsea’s trail.

  “That dog will drag you on your belly when he’s on scent.” Peyton chuckled and shook her head. “Come on, let’s flank her.” We jogged after Sandra as she was dragged by the dog towards the trail marked with red blazes. After following this trail for about five minutes, the dog pulled Sandra into the woods. Another few minutes of walking brought us to the little girl. She was sitting on a fallen tree, red-faced and sobbing, clutching her belly. Baby Jax immediately gentled, sitting in front of the terrified child and touching her with his paw. This indication was Jax’s way of telling us that this was the kid we were looking for.

  “Chelsea?” Peyton called to her. The little girl looked up from the dog and nodded, her lower lip trembling. Sandra praised the dog, who rolled over to present his belly for rubbing. While Sandra made a fuss over Baby Jax, Peyton checked Chelsea for injuries and I radioed to base that we had a find.

  “Can I pet him?” Chelsea hiccupped as her sobs subsided and then sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

  Sandra grinned. “Sure, go ahead. He loves getting pets.”

  Chelsea reached out a tentative hand and Baby Jax shoved his head under it, making it clear that he wanted his ears rubbed next. When the little girl giggled, I figured it was okay to ask her some questions. “So, how’d you get here, Chelsea?”

  “Loren was mean to me. She said my hair was the color of poo, so I left.”

  I nodded. “Oh, yeah. I can understand not wanting to stay and be called a poopy head.”

  “But then I had to pee, so I went into the woods and I got lost.” In a small voice, she continued. “I was so scared.”

  Peyton ruffled the little girl’s hair. “You did really good staying put, you know that?”

  “I know,” she sighed, relaxing as she stroked Jax’s head. “We learned from Hug-A-Tree when you get lost, you hug a tree and stay where you are.”

  We grinned at each other and Peyton gave Sandra a high five. The Hug-A-Tree program had done some good. Members of different SAR teams gave the program to little kids during school events to teach them what to do if they got lost. The most important thing was to stay put and stop moving and this little girl had put that lesson to good use.

  Sandra smiled at the child and cocked her head. “You ready to head back, honey?”

  “Okay. I’m not in trouble, am I?”

  “No, you’re not in trouble.” I put my hand out and she slipped her small hand in mine.

  The brownie troop cheered when Chelsea ran into her father’s open arms. Returning to the fold, she accepted their praise like a returning hero. That girl will run for office some day, I thought. After a quick head count, the troop leaders decided to quit before anything else happened. Chelsea left with her father and the rest of the girls were herded on to the bus, where they were repeatedly told to sit down and calm down for the trip home. Waving good-bye as the brownies drove away, the park rangers and searchers congratulated each other on a successful search.

  “A perfect outcome.” Cam whistled as he loaded his pack into the truck. Zackie jumped in and circled a few time to make herself comfortable, kicking slightly at the pack with her hind legs to get it out of her way.

  I leaned against his tailgate. “You’re not disappointed that you and Zackie didn’t get a task?”

  Peyton walked by carrying the clipboard. “Course not. They’re professionals.”

  “In all but pay,” Cam agreed. “Peyton, how goes it?”

  “It’s going painfully slow at the moment.” She rubbed the back of her neck and then rocked her head left and right to stretch the muscles. “I’m just glad we found her fast. I gotta get some sleep.”

  I risked a quick glance at Cam. “The internet research been keeping you up?”

  “No, that’s not the problem.” She put her hands overhead to stretch her back and then rubbed her neck again. “There’s more stuff on broken trailers than I care to get into, but I think I’m making progress.” She yawned, covering her mouth. “It’s that god-awful booming.”

  Cam winced. “Has it gotten much worse?”

  “I can’t say it’s gotten louder, but it just won’t quit. I was a little afraid to bring the trailer today, but we couldn’t do without it.”

  It was a rat bastard thing to do, but I kept playing dumb. “Seems all right now. I didn’t hear any booming.”

  “Yeah, I can’t explain it. Like I said, at home it won’t quit.” Peyton cast a bleary eye around the parking area. “You know what? I’m going to ask the park rangers if it’s okay to leave the trailer here tonight. I just want one decent night’s sleep, that’s all.” She stalked off in search of a ranger, leaving Cam and me to wallow in guilt.

  Cam leaned against the tailgate with me, drawing his shoulders up and tucking his elbows into his sides. “Any word from Ron on when he’s coming?”

  I shook my head, compressing my lips. “I haven’t heard from him. He said two or three days when I spoke to him and that was three days ago. He ought to be here by now.”

  “Call him.”

  “What, right now?”

  “No time like the present. At least we’ll know where we stand.”

  I pulled out my phone, found Ron’s number and hit dial. I seriously hoped this wasn’t going to sound like a nag. Irritating him when he was being charitable was not a good way to ensure high quality help. The phone rang and then rang some more until I was sent to his voicemail.

  “Uh, hi Ron? This is Fia?” My cheeks flushed and I cleared my throat. “Sorry to bug you, but do you know about when you’ll be coming here to help with the Lenape guy? I don’t want to be a pain, but…” I let the thought trail off and bit my lip. “Okay, so thanks for getting back to me.” I hung up before it got really awkward.

  Cam tilted his head and regarded me like I was a laboratory specimen. “So, what is it about Ron that makes you so uncomfortable? Does Lucas have competition?”

  I executed a world class eye roll. “It’s not like that.”

  “What’s it like, then?”

  “I swear I just had this conversation…” I threw my hands up in resignation. “Look, Ron is someone who knows me from the really dark days. Memories of Ron come with a whole lot of baggage.” I folded my arms around my torso and ducked my head as I struggled to come up with a way to articulate my feelings. When I spoke again, my lungs just didn’t have enough air in them for a normal volume and my voice came out sounding small. “I guess I’m afraid of relapsing. He’ll bring back all those memories and maybe it’ll be like before.”

  “Like before? Like when you were a helpless child?” Cam drew his fingers through his mop of hair and set his gaze at some distant point. “Fia, you’ve come too far to end up overwhelmed and incapacitated. You’re too strong for that now.”

  I nodded, but didn’t trust myself to speak. I hoped he was right.

  Cam turned his gaze to take a careful look at me. “Look, a big part of this effort is self-preservation. You’re on the right track if you worry for your own safety. Don’t let them drain you empty and always do a proper rehab between events and you’ll do okay.”

  “Listen to the man, Fia. That’s SAR wisdom, right there.” Sandra performed a mock salute as she walked by, fiddling with her GPS. She must have heard the tail end of the conversation and drew her own conclusions.

  Straightening up from the tailgate, I forced a smile and gave my own mock salute. “Thanks Cam. I better go help break down and pack up.”

  # # #

  Dinner was histo
ry and I stooped over the sink, washing the dishes and wishing I had something for dessert. When my phone sounded with an incoming text, I finished my task before answering it and congratulated myself on not being a slave to an electronic device. A quick glance at the screen showed that Ron had finally responded. His text was short and vague, but I was still glad to hear from him. Everything was taking longer than expected due to unforeseen circumstances, but he would arrive the next day at the Greyhound station in Bethlehem. I forwarded the message to Cam to keep him in the loop and then texted Ron to let him know I’d be there to pick him up. Mission not quite accomplished, since Ron wasn’t here yet, we still had an unquiet spirit in our future and we had a marked absence of a realistic plan to move him along. But it was still a small victory and I decided to celebrate by going to bed.

  CHAPTER 3

  Gander’s text had come in the middle of the night and I had slept through the alert. I might have missed the job all together, except the dead hand gripped the phone on the pillow right in front of my face. Some might have construed this act as something helpful, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that the dead hand seemed awfully eager to go on this job. If I had more compassion for Rory or was less strapped for cash, I might have turned down the work. As things stood, warm and fuzzy feelings were starkly absent where Rory was concerned and I needed the paycheck. I’d just have to be vigilant about keeping my distance from that grommet.

  Arriving at the job site, I was surprised to find myself back at the Meridian, the upscale restaurant where Cam and I had enjoyed a night out with Lucas. Gander’s briefing revealed that the restaurant had recently suffered a norovirus-related incident, but not an outbreak. To prevent an outbreak and a black mark on the establishment’s stellar reputation, management decided to briefly close the restaurant for ‘renovations.’