by Jen Blood
“Why are you here?” he whispered to her. He looked down to make sure Ren was still asleep, but she hadn’t moved.
Mary looked back over her shoulder, eyes wide with fear. Something is here, she whispered to him—the words more sight than sound, appearing on a delicate thread that spiraled through the air.
“What something?” he asked, still whispering. “A person? The man who killed that girl… Is that what you mean? Did you see him?”
She shook her head. You don’t understand. You have to leave this place.
Before he could respond, he heard footsteps down the hall and then a firm knock on the door. The girl seemed to shimmer in place, fading in and out for a moment before she turned from him and vanished. Dean Redfield let himself in a second later, without waiting for an answer from him. At the sound, Ren jolted awake.
“Who were you talking to?” Dean demanded as he closed the door behind him.
“Each other,” Bear said without hesitation.
“She was asleep,” Dean said. He nodded toward Ren, who seemed too dazed to protest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bear said, unnerved. He’d barely spoken above a whisper. Even if the old man was standing right outside his door, Bear couldn’t see how he’d heard a thing. “We were talking to each other.” He kept his eyes on the floor. He was bigger than Dean Redfield. Stronger. Even injured, he should be able to take the man out. It made no sense that he should be this afraid, but right now all he could do was sit there, in pain and fighting not to shake like a frightened pup.
“I heard you,” Dean persisted. Bear raised his eyes and looked at the man. Those threads were whirling round his head, blacker than the words that spun round the girl. Don’t fuck with me, son. How the hell had he heard? “You said someone’s name. Not hers.”
“You’re wrong,” Bear said, drawing strength from the older man’s uncertainty. He kept his head up, staring Dean down. “Maybe you were dreaming.”
Dean backed away. He glanced toward the window, and Bear followed his gaze. The girl was long gone. If Bear hadn’t already experienced this before, he would doubt he’d seen her at all.
“I want you to stay quiet,” Dean said. “Both of you, just shut the hell up. You need to save your strength.”
“I’m bleeding again,” Bear said—something he’d only just realized himself. “The cotton strips your sister gave us aren’t absorbent enough, I just keep bleeding through the bandages. I either need actual bandages or, crazy idea, you could just let us go.”
“If I could let you go, I would have done it already.” Dean went to the window and stared out, his body rigid. In dogs, that kind of tension meant you backed off or you did something to ease things—throw a ball, offer a treat, make some kind of gesture to indicate you meant no harm. Dogs were easier than people, though. The problem, as Bear saw it, was that right now he wasn’t sure he wanted to ease things. What would that accomplish in the long run?
He could almost hear his mother’s voice in his head. It’ll keep you alive, Bear. That’s what it will accomplish.
“If you have another sheet, that might be good enough,” he said, his voice purposely lighter now. He saw Dean’s shoulders relax.
“I’ll see what I can come up with. You still think you can take care of him?” Dean asked Ren. She blinked, still trying to get her bearings after just waking up.
“I can, yes. But he’s right—if you can get more bandages, that would help.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said, surprisingly respectful. He stopped with his hand at the doorknob and turned back to them. “That girl you were talking to,” he said, focusing on Bear once more. “It’s the one in the red sweater, isn’t it? The one Claude was going on about?” Bear didn’t answer, but Dean didn’t seem to require a response. “If she comes back, you tell me. I want to talk to her.”
“I don’t think it works like that,” Bear said.
“I don’t care how you think it works. Claude says she knows something about my girls—knows something about where Ariel is now. I need to talk to her.”
“Has Claude, uh…” Bear’s mind was spinning. Claude had seen the girl—that had been clear earlier. But had he seen that kind of thing before? Dean looked at him without a shred of understanding in his eyes. What would he say if Bear told him that this girl in the red sweater was just one of dozens of dead people he’d communicated with over the years? That sometimes he couldn’t sleep for the faces clamoring outside his window, the voices whispering his name?
“Has Claude talked to my mother?” Bear bluffed. “Or have any of you, since you took me? Has anyone told her I’m all right?”
“We’ll call in the morning,” Dean said. “I want to make sure they don’t forget what they’re supposed to be doing out there. Time’s running out.”
Bear thought of the time limit Dean had put on this thing when it had all started. Just over thirty hours now. If his mother didn’t find Ariel by then, Dean would kill one of them.
He wasn’t ready to die—and he definitely wasn’t ready to see Ren die.
Before Bear could ask any more questions, Dean left the room. As soon as he was gone, Ren turned to Bear.
“What was that about?” she hissed. “What was he talking about? Were you talking to someone?”
Bear’s gaze drifted back to the window. “I was,” he admitted. “But she’s gone now.”
Ren shivered beside him. For the first time, he saw fear in her eyes. Her thick, dark curls were a mess, and he wondered what she would do if he pushed them back from her face. If he touched her cheek, the way she had his earlier that night. She was in bed by his side, they’d slept together for the past several hours—hell, they were facing death together… And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to bridge that last gap between them.
“I need to try and get that bleeding stopped again,” she said. She got out of bed, shivering again when her feet hit the cold floor.
Bear couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, he remained silent. What did it say about him, he wondered, that he was better at communicating with animals and dead people, than flesh and blood of his own species?
* * *
Chapter 14
IT WAS ALMOST FIVE a.m. by the time we went back inside the Shaftsbury motel. We fed the dogs, and then I returned Casper and Minion to their crates before heading back to Glastenbury, my shepherd by my side.
As soon as I pulled up, the light went on in several of the news vans that were now parked at the edge of the parking lot. I saw Angie Crenshaw hop out of her van first, already made up and far more enthusiastic than she’d been the day before. Bloodshed, hostages, a madman on the loose… Now they had a story.
“Jamie,” she called to me. “Jamie Flint, right? What can you tell me about your son? How close are you to finding the missing girl?”
I shook my head and hurried up the steps, Phantom keeping pace beside me. The reporter continued calling questions to me as others followed in her wake. I ignored them all, hauled open the church door, and closed it just before any of them reached me.
McDonough was already in the “war room” at HQ when I arrived. Jack was not, though I hadn’t really expected him yet. Had he gotten anything from Gordon, I wondered?
“You get any sleep last night?” McDonough asked me as I came through the door.
“A few hours,” I lied. At the doubt on his face, I added, “That might be a little generous. You?”
“I got what I needed.” I thought of the look I’d seen on his face when he’d said goodnight to Rita, but there was no sign of that vulnerability now. He returned his attention to the whiteboard. The map was up again, this time with a large red X where Melanie Redfield’s body had been found. The immediate area around it was circled in blue. “You ready to get out there again?”
“Not much else I can think of doing right now,” I said.
He nodded. The tension between us was palpable when he looked at me again. “Have you hear
d from Jack?” he asked.
“No,” I said honestly.
His lips thinned into a grimace, as though he were in physical pain. “Lucky you,” he murmured. “I got a call from my supervisor at o-three-hundred this morning. Turns out Jack made an unauthorized trip to Texas to visit Gordon Redfield last night. You know anything about that?”
“I know he believed Gordon could help with this case,” I said. He was doing his best to intimidate me, but he could grimace all he wanted—the reality was, he had no power over me. I’ve dealt with far worse than Gerard McDonough in my life.
“He’s wrong,” McDonough said unequivocally. “I told him as much, but Jack doesn’t listen to anybody but Jack. And this time, it’s going to bite him in the ass.”
I remained silent, unsure what my role was in all this. What he wanted from me. McDonough took a swig of coffee from his mug, made a face, and set it back down on his desk. He looked at Phantom, then at me.
“I’m sorry about what happened to your boy,” he said. Hardly what I expected. “And since occasionally—very occasionally—Jack comes up with a good idea, I approved his request to bring Gordon Redfield up here to consult on this case. Of course, just because he’s been given the okay to come here doesn’t mean Gordon will actually come.”
“What do you mean, he won’t come?” I asked, drawn in despite myself. “Make him come. Don’t tell me you guys don’t have ways of making that happen—”
“We’re doing what we can,” McDonough said smoothly. “If there’s a way to get him here, we’ll do it.”
I still didn’t know what to think about Gordon. Jack believed the man had killed his sisters—or at least those were the words he’d said to me, but there was more conflict there than Jack was willing to admit. He might have gone along with the conviction, but there were seeds of doubt. And now, with Melanie dead and Ariel missing, it was only natural that those seeds should start to grow. The problem was, I didn’t know where that got me. Or Bear.
“Thank you,” I said. “I know you don’t believe this will help, but I’ve always been impressed with Jack’s instincts.”
McDonough didn’t seem impressed by that, but said nothing. “That wasn’t all I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “I wanted to see if you could talk to the other SAR folks that are out there. We’re trying to diffuse the situation up on the mountain, but we’re no closer to finding whoever killed Melanie Redfield. I’ve tried to warn the searchers, but so far nobody’s paying much attention.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. “I can talk to them, but I doubt it will matter.” I wasn’t at all surprised that he’d had no luck getting VTK9 to leave the search. If it had been another searcher’s kid, I would have kept searching regardless of the danger. It’s one of the things I like best about the SAR community. We look out for each other, first and foremost. A dog falls sick, the messages start coming in. A handler is injured, and everyone’s right there to help out. Dog people aren’t known for their interpersonal skills, but when one of our own needs us, we’re there.
“Do you really think people are in danger out there?” I asked. The thought unnerved me. “It seems to me that whoever killed Melanie will stay as far from search and rescue and law enforcement as possible.”
“True,” he grudgingly agreed. “My guess is that the killer’s already long gone—high tailed it out of here as soon as the cops moved in. But just because he’s not out there doesn’t mean you’re protected from the other idiots holding court with the Redfields. My men are up there now and report that just about everyone has cleared out after what happened with your son, but I still don’t like this.”
“And you think I do?” I said. “I’ll talk to Cheryl, but I don’t know that it will help. The last I knew, she put a call out and expects another dozen teams may show up by this afternoon.”
“In that case, I’ll put the word out to the Redfield camp,” he said. “Let them know the authorities are authorized to arrest anyone roaming the woods with a weapon during this search. Hopefully, that will make a difference.” He paused, eyeing me thoughtfully. “You know, Dean got what he wanted. All along, he wanted you here,” he watched me as he spoke the words. Unbidden, a chill went up my spine. “Do you know why?”
“I thought about it last night,” I said, shaking my head. “I have no idea. He knew Brock Campbell, my former mentor.” I had to fight to keep my tone level when I said Brock’s name, but I saw McDonough’s eyes narrow. “That’s all I know.”
“Campbell was a big deal in dog training, wasn’t he? Died a few years ago?”
Just as Jack had, I was sure McDonough knew the details. I kept my face impassive, one eye on the horizon lightening outside. “Yeah, he was a big deal,” I said. “The macho bullshit that some trainers go nuts for—dominance theory, alpha and omega.” Something I expected was right up McDonough’s alley, though I didn’t say so.
“Something you don’t buy into?”
“I think force is always an easier way to get what you want. Not necessarily the right way, but often simpler.”
He considered that for a second. “And he was your mentor.” He was still watching me. I raised my eyebrows, too tired to play games.
“Do you have a question for me, Agent McDonough?”
“A few of them, actually. This one is pretty simple, though: If you thought his theories were bullshit, why did he leave his business and upwards of ten million dollars to you and your son when he died? Why were you the sole beneficiary on his life insurance policy?”
I tried to remain cool, but my palms were sweating. How many times had I answered these questions before? Schooled Bear on them? I knew what to say. It shouldn’t be this hard to get the words out, given the number of times I’d told this lie.
“He didn’t have any children of his own. I was young when I went to his training camp—barely fifteen. He thought I had a lot of promise as a handler. Later, a few years after I’d had Bear, we reconnected. He and Bear got along well, and it was a time in Brock’s life when he couldn’t handle the business on his own. I ran it for him; he was pleased with what I did. And he genuinely cared for my son.”
McDonough nodded, still eyeing me speculatively. Before he could ask anything further, Phantom pricked her ears forward, eyes on the door. Outside, I heard vehicles rumbling toward us. McDonough tipped his chin toward the exit.
“You should get going, get everything coordinated. If there’s a chance of finding this girl alive, I want to know we did everything in our power to make that happen.”
I started for the door with a nod, then paused and turned back. “If you hear anything from Dean Redfield…” I began.
“I’ll let you know,” McDonough said briefly, dismissing me out of hand. Not the most reassuring man I’d ever met.
* * *
Chapter 15
SIXTEEN TEAMS STRONG by morning, our forces were ready to go by five-thirty a.m. The horizon was already beginning to lighten when we set out. Sunrise wasn’t technically until 6:02, but there was enough light to work with in the meantime. I’d gotten word from the island that Monty and Sarah, two of my strongest handlers at Flint K-9, were in the field on another search, but would join us within a few days if they could. If Ariel Redfield was anywhere in that forest, I couldn’t imagine how she could possibly stay hidden.
Phantom had rested enough that she was ready to go again that morning, but I knew this would need to be a short day for her. No matter: Casper and Minion were both eager to get out there, and I’d simply swap the dogs out when Phantom had had enough. Cheryl and I teamed up again, Phantom and Festus greeting one another with a brief butt sniff before they regarded one another with polite disinterest once more. Like everyone else, it seemed they were ready to get started.
We started by trekking out to the tree where I’d found Ariel’s shirt the night before, the going slow thanks to the washout that had nearly taken Jack down with it. Every dog we brought by tracked the scent to the tre
e I’d climbed, then nosed around briefly before they lost the scent, looking at us in bafflement. I had no answers for them. It was like Ariel had vanished into thin air from here.
For the next three hours, we searched the forest. I heard occasional barks in the distance, alerts from other dogs on other teams, and I would stand there with my own ears straining as much as Phantom’s as I waited for the call telling us the search was over; the girl had been found.
That call didn’t come.
We agreed to rendezvous back at the station at eight a.m. to regroup. When the time came, I was reluctant to go. Phantom had alerted twice in the same area, nearly a mile from the tree where Ariel’s T-shirt had been found. She even circled back once after I’d examined the place and told her to move on. Shortly afterward, Festus alerted in the same spot. Cheryl scratched her head and eyed me speculatively.
“Your dog known for false alerts?” she asked.
“It happens. Not often, but no dog is perfect.”
She nodded. “Strange that Festus is fixed on the same spot, though.”
I agreed. The problem was simple, though: we’d checked this area. It was a clearing surrounded by a grove of beech trees and yellow birch and, frankly, there wasn’t a hell of a lot to see. I checked the ground for signs that someone had been through recently, but the rains had washed away any footprints that might have been left behind and the plants in the area appeared to be intact. There were no hair elastics lying in the dirt, no snapped twigs, no telltale piles of stones or messages carved into the bark.
There was nothing here.
Regardless, Phantom and Festus sat where they’d planted themselves, looking for all the world like they were saying, Job done. What the hell are you still looking for?
I radioed McDonough. “We’ve got an alert up here we can’t explain. Can we get an excavation team out?” The only explanation I could come up with was that whatever the dogs were reacting to, it was out of sight.
