by Tara Meyers
“The handler is actually his wife’s sister,” Nathan explained. “She works out of Thomas County, but it won’t be a problem for her to come down here. I worked with her a couple of years ago, and the dog is impressive.”
His mouth drawn in a grim line, Walker gave a firm shake of his head, apparently having come to a decision. “I’ll contact dispatch and initiate Search and Rescue to pull a mission number. We know this is a recovery, if there’s anything left to recover, so there’s no sense in calling in all the troops. We’ll keep it limited to a small team and the dog and her handler.”
“I want to go,” Ember interjected.
When Walker turned a skeptical eye in her direction, she rushed to placate him.
“It could be on my property,” she implored. “And I promise not to get in the way.”
When the sheriff looked to Nathan for an opinion, the younger man shrugged his shoulders. “Fine by me. I don’t see why it would be a problem, except that Daenerys can’t come. Her presence could throw off the cadaver dog.”
“I’m keeping a tight rein on Daenerys for a while,” Ember agreed. “I wouldn’t want to take her back out there. But do you really think the dog will be able to track anything? She could have carried that…glove from miles away.”
“You’d be surprised what they can pick up,” Nathan answered. “We got lucky, too, that the temperature dropped enough to snow yesterday. Rain would have made it a lot harder. We’ll probably be able to follow Daenerys’s tracks for a while, too.”
“It’s supposed to warm up late tomorrow,” Walker added. “I’ll go back to the office and start making phone calls. We’ll get an early start in the morning.”
Ember glanced at the clock on the stove. Six o’clock. Barely an hour had passed since Daenerys returned, but it felt like ages. Coffee. She needed some really strong coffee before giving her dog a much-needed bath.
Walker marched to the front door with resolve, and as he reached for the handle, the door suddenly exploded inward. Jumping back just in time to miss being hit in the face, Walker swore under his breath as Becky charged inside.
“Oh!” Becky gasped, reeling backward from the bagged evidence Walker was holding at eye level. Recovering quickly, she held her plump sides and laughed loudly.
“That was close,” she directed at Walker as she reached out to gently push his arm aside. Grimacing first at the contents he was holding, she then scooted around him and rushed over to where Daenerys was lying.
“You’re sure she isn’t injured?” Becky asked Ember, her smile evaporating when she saw the awful state the dog was in.
“Just dirty,” Ember confirmed. “She already had a whole bowl of food and water, but I didn’t want to wash her in case—well, in case there was evidence or something on her.” Blushing slightly at how silly it sounded when she said it out loud, Ember busied herself with making the coffee.
“You have any missing person cases this summer?” Becky asked Nathan. “Because I don’t recall hearing of anything around town.” Pushing a loose strand of short, carrot-red hair behind her ear, she continued to evaluate Daenerys as she spoke.
“Well, Mrs. Stratton, we always have some open cases, but none are more recent than over a year ago. There was that young girl who went missing out of one of our campgrounds last June. Nothing on the books that would match the, um, condition of the hand.”
“Well, then, don’t we have ourselves a regular ole mystery on our hands,” Becky said, looking up at Nathan. “No pun intended.”
THREE
“He’s got it! She came through here,” Margaret called out as her cadaver dog, Duke, sprang to action and dashed back into the woods, his nose to the ground.
Relieved, Ember fell in line behind Walker as their assorted group eagerly followed. She’d been afraid the trail had gone cold. They’d recently trekked over a rock outcropping where the scent disappeared, and Duke had been circling the area on the other side for over ten minutes. Three hours into the hike, they were well past Ember’s property line and in National Parks territory.
Wednesday morning had emerged with bright blue skies and frigid temperatures. With the promise to warm above freezing by early afternoon, Ember dressed in layers. She slowed her step briefly while pulling off her jacket. It was only eleven, but the air already felt much warmer.
Rushing to catch back up to Walker, she noted how sure-footed he appeared. She’d been surprised when he showed up that morning, just after dawn, instead of one of his deputies. As far as Ember knew, he wasn’t a big fan of hiking.
Nathan, Ranger Cooper, and the tracker with her dog had followed him into her driveway, and then finally a crew from SAR—Search and Rescue. Their group consisted of two younger men and a middle-aged woman. After unloading what looked like a ton of equipment from the back of their truck, they’d deftly donned all their gear and reported to Sheriff Walker.
Breathing heavily, Ember glanced up ahead at the three professionals and marveled at their ability to act like they weren’t carrying any weight. She thought of herself as an avid hiker, but it was becoming more apparent that she wasn’t in that great of shape.
“I’m surprised Becky didn’t come,” Walker said without turning around. “I figured she’d want to run the operation.”
Laughing, Ember finished tying her jacket around her waist. “She’ll be at the house, dog sitting for me when we get back, and will probably have a list of questions. I guess Aunt Becky only hikes when there isn’t any snow on the ground.”
Walker looked back at Ember, his expression a mix of humor and scorn. “If it was a warm day, that woman would have said she doesn’t hike in the sun. She does what she wants, and I figure sniffing out bodies falls outside her comfort zone.” He turned back to push aside a branch and then held it so Ember could pass. “Speaking of which,” he continued, now behind Ember, “does this mean you’re considering the coroner position? Because I’m trying to figure out another reason you’d be out here.”
Ember squinted against the glare off the snow as they stepped into a small clearing. It was rapidly melting now, creating a muddy path where the team ahead of her had walked. Wrinkling her nose, she moved to the side and into the clean, slushy snow to avoid the goopy mess. Fumbling with the sunglasses she’d stuck on top of her head earlier, she was thankful for them as she slipped them on.
Walker had stopped beside her, waiting for a response, not seeming to notice or care about the thick mud collecting around the soles of his hiking boots.
“I already had this conversation with Mayor Gomez,” Ember said with some exasperation. “And you know what my answer was.”
Three months ago, the county had lost their previous coroner. It was an elected position and surprisingly didn’t require any medical knowledge. Anyone with a health background or training was seen as a prime candidate. While she wouldn’t be required to do any autopsies, or rarely even any sort of an exam, it wasn’t something Ember was interested in. The mayor and sheriff had mistaken her recent quest to uncover a killer as a character trait that would fuel a desire to fill the vacated job.
“That position isn’t up for election for a couple of months,” Nathan added, moving up in between Ember and Walker.
Ember rolled her eyes at Nathan. He knew how she felt about it. However, she stopped herself from saying anything sarcastic. If keeping her options open gave her some leeway with the sheriff, then who was she to say they couldn’t make her a candidate … for now.
“True,” she said instead. She glanced coyly first at Nathan and then smiled at Walker. “If I’m still being considered for it, then this is a great way to find out if I’m coroner material!”
Huffing, Walker shook his head and stomped away, realizing he was being manipulated. He was a smart man. But he also knew the Burns women well enough to let it go.
“So,” Nathan pressed, holding Ember back by a light touch on her arm. “What’s the real reason you’re out here?”
One look at his
dark, intelligent eyes that always seemed to sparkle with a hint of mischief, Ember’s resolve was gone. Coming from Nathan, it didn’t feel like an interrogation.
“A couple of reasons,” she answered slowly, acutely aware that his hand was still resting on her forearm. She had to look up to meet his gaze. While she was of average height, Nathan was at least 6’2”, and his broad, muscled shoulders made him a formidable figure. “While having my dog bring me a decomposing hand from possibly somewhere on my property would have been intriguing enough to get me out here…I can’t help but wonder if it’s connected to Daenerys showing up this summer.”
Nodding as if he expected it, Nathan finally released Ember’s arm and adjusted the straps of his backpack. “The same thought crossed my mind,” he admitted. “Based on what the coroner out of Thomas County said last night, the timeline could be right. Wasn’t she found in mid-June?”
“Yeah. I think it was the second week of June. Becky would know the exact date. She was in a field north of town, not all that far from here.”
“Well, it might not be necessary to get an exact date,” Nathan said, shielding his eyes as he looked to the far end of the clearing where everyone else was gathering. “I’m guessing Duke lost the trail again.”
In spite of her eagerness to be included in the search, Ember felt a surge of relief at the prospect of the trail going cold. While her curiosity about the origins of the hand was compelling, her desire to not have her relationship with Daenerys threatened was a greater concern.
As the two of them moved toward the group, Ranger Shane Cooper broke away and met them halfway. The thirtyish man was a few inches shorter than Nathan and a bit heavier.
“Don’t you think it’s about time to call this?” he said to Nathan without preamble. His tone was harsh and in sharp contrast to his friendly mood earlier that morning.
“We’ve still got close to six hours of daylight left, Shane.” Nathan tilted his head questioningly as he said it, his aversion to other man’s tone obvious.
Ember’s understanding of their chain of command was thin, but she did know Nathan was in charge of all the rangers stationed in the area. While the two were close in age and seemed to be friends, it was clear there was a power struggle between them. Shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, Ember tried to think up an excuse to move away, but they continued talking before she could excuse herself.
“He’s dropped the scent so many times that I’m not convinced he’s even picking the right one back up,” Shane persisted.
“What does Margaret think?” Nathan asked, rubbing at his chin.
Sighing dramatically, Shane waved a hand in her direction before tugging at the ranger-green ball cap he always kept firmly seated on his head. “She’s still optimistic, but I’m getting tired of chasing what’s likely nothing to find. I mean, what do you really think the odds are that anything is even left?”
“We won’t know until we look. That’s kind of the whole point.” Nathan glanced sideways at Ember, aware she was still listening. “So long as Margaret still thinks—”
“Find Freddy!” Margaret suddenly shouted from the tree line amidst excited barks.
When they started out, the handler had explained that when a dog picked up a scent, they were trained to respond to “Find Freddy” instead of body or cadaver, out of respect for any family that might be near the search. It meant Duke was on the scent again.
Nathan and Shane sprinted after the rest of the party already disappearing into the trees, and Ember struggled to keep up. Tripping over a rock hidden under the thin layer of snow, she cursed under her breath as she caught her footing. Once at the trees, the ground was less muddy and easier to navigate. But she was losing sight of Heather, the woman from the SAR team and the last in the line of the retreating hikers. If it weren’t for the clear trail left in the spotty snow, Ember would have been afraid of getting lost.
As it turned out, she didn’t need to worry. Because right when she thought she’d been left completely behind, an explosion of new barks and shouted orders erupted from just ahead. Her heart rate accelerating with a fresh surge of adrenaline, Ember ran the last fifty feet until she broke through into another clearing.
On the far end was a large tent, half-collapsed. Margaret was off to the side where Shane was helping her to restrain Duke. The SAR team stood together on the opposite side, clearly waiting for orders. Sheriff Walker was holding the tent flap open for Nathan, who turned and motioned for Ember to wait before disappearing inside.
There was a small fire ring made of rocks near Ember’s feet, and she was surprised to discover that two awkward shapes under the snow where camping chairs. A small gas stove sat on a stump, with what looked like various pots and utensils scattered around it, half-buried by the snow. Whoever’s camp this was had gone to some effort to set it up.
Intrigued, Ember turned slowly and scrutinized the rest of the small glen. A faded green clothesline spread between two cedar trees. A shovel and pick leaned against a fir. Over near Shane was a bucket, and next to the tent, another stump had a kerosene lantern sitting on it. The old metal kind.
Ember was concentrating so hard that she jumped when Nathan pushed back through the crumpled canvas, a grim look on his handsome features. In his gloved hand was what looked to be a cell phone. As he walked closer to her, she recognized a compact charger that was popular with hikers gripped in his other hand, a wire stretched between the two devices.
“It appears to be a suicide,” he announced. Pausing, he turned to Heather and her two team members. “Give us a few more minutes to process the scene, and then we’ll be ready for you to remove the body.”
When they nodded quietly in understanding, he finished crossing the space and stopped in front of Ember. “I think we solved the mystery of Daenerys’s origins.”
A lump formed in Ember’s throat, making it hard to swallow. “That’s the person’s phone?”
“His phone,” Nathan confirmed. “Fortunately, it wasn’t exposed to the elements. It has a screen lock on it,” he explained, raising his eyebrows at her, “but you can still see the screensaver.”
Ember braced herself as he turned the cell phone around. On it was a handsome man in his thirties, dressed in hiking gear. He was kneeling down. There was a woodsy backdrop behind him and a very familiar labradoodle at his side. A cinnamon-colored labradoodle wearing a red collar and a doggy grin that Ember had come to love more than anything in the world.
FOUR
Ember fidgeted restlessly from her perch on the largest of the stumps near the cold fire pit. After showing her the image, Nathan had disappeared back inside the tent. It was twenty minutes before he motioned the SAR team inside, and a half hour later, they still hadn’t resurfaced.
Her first reaction to the confirmation of Daenerys’s involvement was fear. The man likely had a family. Perhaps a wife or even kids. Surely, they’d want their beloved dog back. Her breath catching again at the mere thought, Ember brushed a tear aside and turned away from the murmuring voices inside the green canvas walls. She honestly didn’t know how she’d cope with the loss, right on the heels of losing her mom. Her only bright thought was that after almost four months, any other family members might be willing to let Daenerys stay in Sanctuary.
Ranger Cooper and Margaret were on the far edge of the clearing, standing in a patch of sunlight. Duke was now sleeping while they ate their lunch as far from the tent as possible. The friendly dog handler invited Ember to join them, but she didn’t trust herself at the moment to carry on a conversation.
“I can organize a team to come back up here after winter to collect whatever we don’t pack out today.”
Ember turned at the sound of Nathan’s voice. He and Walker were each holding up a corner of the entrance so the SAR team could exit the tent. She tried not to think too hard about the disturbingly small shape inside the body bag strapped to the rescue litter. Their faces said it all.
Sheriff Walker retrieved his backpack
from near Ember and silently placed a bagged handgun inside of it. He also held another item, but instead of packing it away, he stood up with it. He was wearing purple neoprene gloves, and Ember imagined that although Nathan said it appeared to be a suicide, they would still need to treat it like a potential crime scene.
“Is that a wallet?” Shane asked.
He’d walked up behind Ember without her noticing, and she nearly fell off the stump. Trying to hide her embarrassment, she quickly stood and wiped at the pieces of damp bark left behind on her jeans.
“Yeah,” Walker confirmed. “His license photo matches up with the guy on the phone. He’s from Southern Idaho, and his name is—” Pausing, he pulled the wallet out and flipped it open. “Kurt Donaldson.”
Shane’s head snapped around, and his eyes widened. “Let me see that phone,” he ordered, holding a hand out to Nathan.
Looking pointedly at Shane’s bare hands, Nathan fished the bagged phone out of his pocket and then held it up for the other man to see after he turned it on.
Shane’s demeanor confirmed his suspicions. Shoulders sagging, he ran a hand through his shaggy black hair. “I’ll be. I knew the guy.”
“I thought the name sounded familiar,” Nathan commented, “but I couldn’t figure out why.”
“He was a forest engineer,” Shane explained. “He was hired to survey this area a couple of years ago after the cut we’d started ran into some problems.”
“That’s right!” Nathan snapped his fingers, the sound dulled by the gloves. “That all happened the month before I was hired, but I still had to deal with the paperwork.”
“What’s a forest engineer?” Ember asked. She’d never heard the term before.
“Cutting down trees on national land has been made into a huge process,” Shane said with an edge to his voice. “So, to keep things kosher, we’re forced to hire these engineers to come out and make sure everything from harvesting, to runoff, and even the logging roads are done right. That’s just the tip of the iceberg, but you get the idea.”
