Inside the Echo

by Jen Blood

  She tensed as the fabric tightened around her neck. His body was pressed to her, his front to her back, and she could feel him breathing in her ear. Excitement mounting. She tried not to struggle, knowing that would only spur him on, but couldn’t help it when spots started to float in front of her eyes. Her lungs would burst. She flailed, furious when she heard his low laughter.

  And then, mercifully, seconds before she would have blacked out, the fabric slipped away.

  “Not so fast, baby girl. Don’t worry. I’ve got bigger plans than that for you.”

  He slid the fabric up her neck, past her chin. Whispered in her ear. “Open your mouth.”

  She refused.

  He wrenched her arm until the pain was almost unbearable, but she kept her mouth closed. Furious, Justin spun her around so she was facing him. He cupped her jaw with one hand.

  “When I tell you to do something, you do it,” he bit out. A response would have required opening her mouth, and she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. She kept her own jaw clenched, her body rigid, while he fought to get the gag around her mouth.

  She didn’t see the punch coming until it was too late – a single blow to the stomach that had her gasping for breath like a land-locked trout. Justin laughed as he fastened the silk scarf around her mouth, while she was still trying to get her breath back.

  She might be humiliated, but she refused to let him see her cry. Hands behind her back, gag over her mouth, she moved forward with her shoulders squared and her head up. No matter how much it hurt.

  Chapter 21

  Flint K-9 Search and Rescue

  February 5, 2:30 p.m.

  WHEN WE ARRIVED at the hotel, Hogan pulled into a space beside an old Jeep 4x4. The driver’s side door of the Jeep opened immediately, and a plump older woman in a wool coat, leggings, and snow boots met me at my door.

  “I’m Dr. Wallace – Michelle said you were on your way,” she said. “Come on into the hotel. They let me set up a space in the main office while the search is ongoing.”

  “Do you need me to carry her in?” Jack asked me, at my side once more. I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Thanks, but no – I think she’s all right to walk, Jack.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe she broke something.”

  “She looks just fine to me,” the vet said. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

  Jack looked skeptical, but stepped aside nevertheless.

  “I need to get going,” Hogan said. “I want to check in with Steiner, figure out what our next move is considering the latest find.”

  “When do you want to meet up so we can head back out?” I asked. I knew as soon as I saw the look on his face what his answer would be. “Hogan – you need us out there. Now more than ever, you need as many searchers as you can get.”

  He shook his head, hand up to stop my argument. “Just let me talk to Steiner first, all right? We’ll figure it out from there. I’ll give you a call when we’re through.”

  I agreed, anxious to get inside to look after Phantom. When he was gone, Jack and I went in with Phantom and Dr. Wallace, and followed the vet to the office they’d designated as her exam room. Phantom was still walking with a limp by this time, but she was up and alert.

  Over the course of the next twenty minutes, Dr. Wallace conducted a more thorough exam than I’d seen some vets do in state-of-the-art facilities, attentive to every detail of my shepherd. Phantom sat patiently, shaking slightly and with downcast eyes, as the veterinarian gently shaved the fur away from the bite wounds at her neck and hock.

  “What do you think attacked her?” Jack asked. He hovered at the edge of the room watching the vet’s every move.

  “Most likely a coyote – it’s been a cold winter, and there are a few up in the park who’ve been getting too close to people’s camps for comfort. If they found an easy meal, one of them might not have taken kindly to being interrupted. Though based on how superficial these bite wounds are, I’d say she wasn’t much of a fighter.”

  “Or Phantom’s a serious contender,” Jack said, pride in his voice.

  “Or that,” Dr. Wallace agreed, with a bit of a smile as she stroked the dog’s head. “We can take her in for ex-rays if you want. I think what you saw after the fact and the shaking she’s doing now is a result of the adrenaline that rushed her system. Nothing too serious, based on what I’m seeing. She may have sprained her foot, but there’s no break there. She’ll need to take a round of antibiotics to fight infection from the bites, but overall everything is superficial.”

  “I’m assuming she’s out of commission for the rest of the search, though,” I said.

  The vet nodded, adjusting her glasses as she did so. “Absolutely, I’m sorry. I’d do just about anything to help find Megan, but I can’t in good conscience approve this dog for the field.”

  “I understand,” I agreed. Hogan wouldn’t be happy to hear this, though I knew he’d already suspected as much. “Did you examine Whippet earlier?” I asked, thinking of the sudden illness that had eliminated Michelle’s dog from the search.

  “I did,” Dr. Wallace confirmed. “I think she’ll be all right, but it’s lucky they got to me as fast as they did. She was in rough shape.”

  “Any idea what happened to her?”

  “Chocolate,” the vet said, with a frown. “You’d think with this group people would know better than to allow something like that near a dog, but we think she got hold of a block of it somehow.”

  I glanced at Jack, who looked equally disturbed. Immediately, Chase Carter’s face flashed in my mind. “I’m not the most knowledgeable when it comes to dogs,” Jack said, “but you gave me that lecture on day one.”

  “What’s the prognosis?” I asked.

  “We caught it before there were any real symptoms, and induced vomiting as soon as he got here. If Michelle hadn’t been paying attention to her dog’s behavior or spotted that candy bar wrapper, the theobromine could have killed her while she was still out in the field. As it is, though, she’ll be fine tomorrow. She’s definitely out of commission tonight, though.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Phantom woofed lightly.

  “Come on in,” Dr. Wallace said.

  Hogan poked his head inside. The storm cloud on his face suggested that, impossibly, things had gotten worse in the time we’d been apart.

  “Is she going to be all right?” he asked me, nodding toward Phantom.

  “She will, but she’s off the search. She’s old enough that something like this needs to be taken seriously.”

  “Of course,” Hogan said. “I figured that was probably the case.” He hesitated, looking thoroughly defeated. “I guess that means your team can head out whenever you want. If you want to hang out tonight and see if you can help out a little more at the WildFire base, that’s fine. I’ve arranged for us to foot the bill for the lodge for one more night.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll work with Bear’s dog again. You saw how good he was in the field yesterday.”

  “The pit bull?” he asked. He frowned, though I thought I saw a faint spark of hope in his eyes.

  “He’s a good search dog,” I insisted.

  Hogan hesitated. “I know he is, but we still have to clear it with Steiner. I’m not sure he’ll go for sending you back out.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” I said. “At this point, it seems like you guys need everyone you can get.”

  He nodded grimly. “You’re not wrong.”

  I left Phantom with Jack and Dr. Wallace for the moment, and Hogan and I made the trek across the snowy parking lot to the SAR mobile unit. The unit was filled to the gills when I arrived, between detectives, wardens, and leaders of the civilian teams now being pulled out of the field. Hogan pulled Steiner aside, and the three of us met in the cordoned-off area at the far end of the unit where Shonda had been questioned the night before.

  “Our searchers are dropping like flies,” Steiner said, staring out a tiny window that looked
out on the parking lot. In any search I’d ever worked on with him before, he’d always given the impression of being almost impossibly together: pressed uniform, freshly shaven, rigid posture. Two days into this search, it was clear from his wrinkled uniform and the five o’clock shadow on his weathered face that the pressure was getting to him.

  “I’m pulling all civilians out,” he continued. “The weather’s good right now, but it’ll be bad tonight. Ice and freezing rain mean we won’t have a chance in hell of raising anyone by radio once everything ices over. Babcock is dead. Michelle’s dog is out. Your dog is out. I can’t risk civilian lives—”

  “I’m not leaving until we’ve exhausted every possibility,” I said stubbornly. That familiar voice was driving me now. Haunting me. No way in hell could I imagine going home now, with four women still missing and a demon tracking them out there. “You know you need me.”

  He grimaced, still staring out the window. It was after four p.m. by now, the sky darkening rapidly despite the fact that the sun wouldn’t officially set for another hour.

  “What do you think, Hogan?” he asked, without turning to look at the other warden. Hogan frowned.

  “You know I can do this,” I said to him, when he didn’t answer Steiner’s question.

  “But should you?” he said. “That’s the bigger issue. You could run the search backwards, whatever dog you choose – I know that. But how safe is it with this guy out there, and am I throwing you in the crosshairs because I can’t see straight ever since I found out Hunter was missing?”

  Steiner turned during our exchange, and I was struck by the compassion on his face. Whatever was between Hogan and “Hunter,” he was aware of it – and of the toll it was taking on one of his lead wardens. I’d never seen Hogan more torn, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d acted the same way about me in those final weeks before everything came to a head with Brock. Somehow, I didn’t think so. I had no doubt that Hogan was fond of me; maybe he’d even had romantic feelings for me at one time. But it paled in comparison to whatever was going on between him and Megan Hunter.

  “Why don’t you let me worry about that, okay?” I said, as gently as possible. “When I first got here, you told me you needed me to be smart about this, didn’t you? I say this is my call. I want to be out there.”

  He nodded wearily, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Yeah – okay.” He shifted focus back to Steiner, who looked satisfied with the conclusion, if not exactly enthusiastic.

  “Take a couple of hours to get yourself and the dog situated,” Steiner said. “I assume Juarez will still be going out with you?”

  “That would be my preference,” I agreed.

  “Good,” Steiner said. “I spoke to a couple of friends in the Bureau today – they had good things to say about him. I think it serves us well if we can keep using him out there.” He looked at Hogan. “Hogan, you’ll go with them. The three of you pick up where Charlie was found. I already have teams out there. Just check in with Michelle to get your exact coordinates. She and Whippet are out of the field tonight, but she’ll still be coordinating the K-9 teams we have left.”

  Eager to get everything settled so I could get out in the field and searching once more, I agreed.

  #

  I thanked Dr. Wallace for her help when I returned to the hotel, and Jack and I got Phantom back to the lodge a few minutes later with a handful of painkillers and a round of antibiotics. Michelle was settled by the fire with Whippet on the couch beside her when we arrived, the Dutch shepherd’s head resting in her lap. Whippet looked up when we came in, but barely stirred beyond that as I tried to get Casper and Minion back in hand. Jack brought Phantom in afterward, insisting on carrying her up the front steps. When he set her down, Phantom came through the door slowly, bandaged and shaved and shaken.

  Casper raced up to her as soon as she crossed the threshold, but thankfully all it took from Phantom was a single growl, lips curled back, before the pit bull slunk off once more.

  “I heard what happened,” Michelle said. I noticed as I got closer that her eyes were puffy, and the realization struck that Charlie Babcock had been her friend and colleague. The combination of Whippet’s trials and the loss of the fellow warden had to be taking a toll. “Is Phantom okay?”

  “She’s a little stiff, but the vet says she’ll be fine. What happened with Whippet? Dr. Wallace said she got hold of some chocolate?”

  “Yeah,” Michelle said, clearly still angry. “Apparently, one of the cops dropped it. It sure as hell never would have come from anyone on our team.”

  “Who told you it was one of the police officers?” Jack asked.

  “It was actually the detective who dropped it – he ’fessed up as soon as he heard what happened. I don’t remember his name. He said he was sure he’d left it in his car, but he guessed he’d put it in his pocket at some point and forgot about it.”

  Which ruled out Chase Carter for this particular calamity, at least in theory. Unless…

  “Do you know who Chase rode up with before we started the search today?” I asked.

  Michelle shrugged. “Chase? No idea. He just kind of showed up – I sure as hell never invited him.”

  “You don’t like him, I take it?” Jack asked.

  She made a face. “He’s too pretty for my taste, and way too smooth. He might as well have ‘Made in DC’ stamped on his forehead.”

  I would have pursued the conversation further, but Bear and Ren were still at the WildFire base, and I was eager to get them home again before time ran out and I needed to meet Hogan for the next leg of the search.

  “So, are you going out again?” Michelle asked. “Whippet’s feeling a little better. I was thinking I’d leave her here and join the ground search. Without Charlie, I’m sure they can use somebody else.”

  Rather than breaking down, her voice hardened on Charlie’s name – a reaction that almost made me smile. Women like Michelle Wassel didn’t fall apart in moments like these; they came together. Focused. Fought. And, ultimately, they got the job done.

  “Jack and I are going back out at 1800,” I said. “I’ll take Casper – it seems like he could use the exercise.”

  Michelle smiled. “You think?” she asked dryly.

  At the moment, the pit bull in question had a tea towel he’d stolen from the kitchen, and was trying to tempt Minion into a game of tug o’ war. Unfortunately for him, it looked like Minion wasn’t interested. He tried one more play bow, dropping the towel in front of her as he bowed. Minion turned her head, refusing to engage. Gamely, he pushed the object across the floor with his nose. Still no response from Minion. He woofed. She got up and walked away.

  It turned out that was too much for the boy. He let out another sharp woof, play bowed, skidded forward on his elbows, grabbed the towel himself, and tossed it into the air. Caught it. Glanced at Minion.

  She yawned.

  I took a step toward the pit bull. That was all it took for him to decide the chase was on – another of his favorite games. With the tea towel clamped tight in his jaws, he bounded away from me. He raced around the room and up the stairs. I could hear him galloping down the hallway, feet pounding on the hardwood floor.

  Both Jack and Michelle laughed out loud. Casper peered around the corner of the stairwell, then took two tentative steps to see why I wasn’t playing along. All I had to do was take a single, quick step in his direction and he was off again, grinning like mad, towel still between his teeth.

  “How long does it take before he figures out you’re not really playing along?” Michelle asked.

  “He figures it out eventually,” I said. “It makes it easy to wear him out, though.”

  Casper appeared on the stairs again, tail whipping like mad, set the tea towel down, and play bowed at the top of the stairs. Come get me! You know you want to!

  This time, Jack was the one who took the step toward him. Someone new was playing along? Casper went completely berserk at the notion. He grabbed
the towel, raced halfway down the stairs, went back up, and disappeared down the hallway, groaning and growling the whole way.

  Minion, meanwhile, was starting to get the itch to join in herself. On Casper’s third time down the stairs, she raced up after him – something I was very happy to see. At five years old, the yellow lab/pit bull mix had been raised by Ren from the time she was four weeks old. As a result of that early relationship, Minion was almost unhealthily bonded to her handler. Being apart from Ren for even a few hours was not a common experience for the sensitive little mutt, so I was glad to see her able to set her anxiety aside for a brief play session.

  “I’ll take them with me to pick up Bear and Ren,” I told Michelle, as we listened to the dogs galloping up and down the upstairs hall. “Minion’s been cooped up with this lunatic all day – I’m sure she could use a break.”

  “Couldn’t we all,” Michelle said.

  “You mind if I hang back?” Jack asked. “I’d like to take a shower, maybe freshen up a little before we head out again tonight. I wanted to follow up for Hogan, too, make a couple of calls to see if I can learn anything new about the Mooney investigation.”

  I assured him that would be fine, then got Phantom settled in my room and harnessed a panting Casper and Minion before setting out on my own.

  It was getting colder as the day transitioned to evening, but the sky was still clear at this point. Precipitation was predicted to start sometime after seven o’clock, most likely in the form of a mix of rain and snow. It was dinner time by now, the hotel next door swamped with guests and searchers looking for food. I avoided them all, including the bevy of reporters skulking just outside the action, and took the dogs straight to the van.

  Happily, the trip to WildFire Expeditions was uneventful this time. When I got there, I noted that the Wright’s truck was back in the driveway, while the little Toyota that had been there before was gone. The WildFire dogs greeted us with the customary barks and howls, something Casper and Minion didn’t take nearly as well as Phantom had.