K-9 Recovery

by Danica Winters

  The commander, Melody, stepped out and made her way toward him, holding her head and crouching down to protect herself from the rotor’s wash. “Any new information?” she called over the noise of the blades.

  He shook his head and motioned for her to follow him toward the rest of their waiting team. The helicopter took off, dipping its nose as it turned and descended back down toward the valley and the city at its heart.

  Part of him wished he was on the bird, having completed the task and having found Lily and the man who was still at large. Unfortunately, he had fallen short.

  The coroner followed in Melody’s wake, looking down at his phone like he was deep into reading something on the screen. As they stopped, the coroner bumped into her. “Whoa, sorry,” he said, finally looking up. “How long has it been since you found the deceased?”

  Well, at least he wasn’t one for screwing around.

  “It’s been about two hours.”

  “And you said she was limp when you found her? No signs of rigor mortis setting in?” The coroner made a note on his phone.

  “We only touched her to try and get a pulse, but her neck was soft to the touch.”

  The coroner nodded. He was all about getting straight to the point. If only Grant had more people in his life who ran on that kind of a timeline. Elle was just starting a campfire as he glanced over at her. As if feeling his gaze, she looked at him. Their eyes connected for a moment, and he could see that hers were red and tired.

  She needed to get off this mountain, or at the very least take a rest and then start fresh in the morning. Yet he was sure that no matter what he said to her, or how hard he tried to convince her, there was nothing he could do to pull her away from this. She wasn’t going to stop until Lily was safe.

  Unfortunately, their trail had run dry. No matter how much Daisy had sniffed and searched, it seemed as if where Catherine’s body had been found was also the last place there had been any active scent. They had spent at least an hour while they had waited for the teams, looking for any leads. Nothing. It was almost as if Lily and the presumed man had disappeared the moment Catherine died.

  As the flames took hold and enveloped the logs in the fire, Elle made her way over to them. Melody and the SAR team who had just arrived sat down next to the four already around the fire, and they all started talking, something about maps and directions. A few were checking their radios and getting ready for the dog and pony show.

  The coroner looked up from his notes. “From the temperature out here currently and from what information you have given me, I think it is fair to assume that our victim has been dead for no more than four to six hours based on the primary indicators. The cold has kept her from going into full rigor mortis, but I would expect, given her glycogen output hiking up the hill, if my math is correct, the victim will probably start having the onset of rigor mortis within the next hour. But first I must see the vic.”

  He wasn’t sure what to make of the information. Did that mean that the coroner wanted to get her off the mountain before she was completely immobilized?

  “Can you take me to her?” the coroner asked, holding on to the strap of the satchel that was crossed over his chest.

  Elle looked at him, asking for an invitation though she said nothing aloud. “Yeah,” Grant said, “Elle, why don’t you join us?”

  She gave him a tip of the head in thanks, but the coroner gave her a quick side-eye before sighing and shrugging her presence off.

  “Let’s go,” the coroner said, pointing vaguely downhill. “It is colder than the backside of the moon up here, and I have a hot cup of coffee with my name on it sitting in my living room.”

  Was that the sand in this man’s craw? That he was having to come out to the woods in the cold in the middle of the night in order to retrieve a body?

  He had met the deputy coroner a few times—he worked in the same office, but the deputy coroner was on the other side and they rarely shared more than a few words socially. Now, he wasn’t too upset that his time had been limited with the officer. They were definitely cut from different cloth. When he’d been acting as coroner a few years ago, he was always jonesing to go on a call—not that he wished anyone an ill fate—he just found the work fascinating. It was a small thing, helping the dead find rest. Yet it brought solace to the victims’ families, and someone had to do it.

  If Grant hadn’t become a cop, he wouldn’t have minded going to work as a medical examiner. He always loved working through a good mystery, and nothing was more confusing than people—though the living were far more confusing than the dead.

  Elle led the way down the hill, taking the broken trail until they were standing just above the ledge and the tree where Catherine could be found.

  The coroner looked over his shoulder at him, like he found it a nuisance that he was going to have to crawl down over the ledge and onto the bench to get to the deceased woman. Yep, this coroner would need some more hours on this job. It was a great learning opportunity, but it seemed as though the kid was not quite realizing that just yet. Until he did, Grant would make sure to make a few calls when he got back to the office.

  Grant and Elle climbed down onto the bench, carefully working around the limbs of the tree until they once again found themselves face-to-face—well, rather face to head—with Catherine. The coroner took a series of photographs, making sure that they were holding up lights to help illuminate the scene.

  The coroner clicked his tongue a few times before reaching into his satchel and taking out a pair of nitrile gloves. He set to work taking more pictures and then going over the body. He took measurements of the scene, documenting everything in his phone before finally touching Catherine’s head. He moved her chin up and peered under her neck. There, beneath the base of her chin, was a large abrasion. “Hmm.”

  He took another picture and made a note.

  The coroner’s movements were slow, methodical as he started at the top of the woman’s body and worked his way down. He unzipped her jacket. Her white silk blouse was stained deep crimson red, some areas so dark that it was almost black with blood. At the center of the blackness were slits in the cloth and the flesh beneath.

  Grant sucked in a breath.

  “Yep,” the coroner said, sounding unsurprised, “looks like we have found the most likely cause of death. Looks like we have at least ten or fifteen puncture wounds here, but the medical examiner will have to open her up for the official count—and the weapon used, but from what I can see... I’d guess it was a large fixed-blade knife. There are some wide, deep punctures here.” He moved back a bit of the woman’s stained shirt to expose what looked like a two-inch-long stab wound.

  As he moved the shirt slightly, Elle let out a thin wheezing sound, making Grant turn.

  Tears were streaming down her face, and Daisy was licking her hand. He hadn’t been thinking. If he had been, he would have never put her in the position to watch her former employer being poked and prodded.

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and led her away. Whatever the coroner found, he could tell them later. For now, Grant needed get her the hell out of there.

  Elle’s body was rigid under his arm, but she didn’t resist as he led her away. Daisy followed in their footsteps, watching warily as her mistress slowly picked her way back up the hill. It took twenty minutes to climb to the top of the mountain, where the SAR team had moved out, leaving the campfire gently flickering in the darkness. To the north, he could make out the thin lights of their flashlights as they started to make their way over to the other side of the mountain saddle.

  As he stood with Elle in the thin firelight, watching the beams of flashlights bounce around and move between the smattering of trees at the top of the mountain, he couldn’t help but feel the futility in their situation. If their kidnapper was capable of such a brutal murder, one with possibly dozens of stab wounds, they had to be an
gry. And when a killer was so filled with rage, there was no telling what they might do—and not even a child would be considered out of bounds when it came to murder.

  Chapter Seven

  Elle didn’t know when she fell asleep—she sure as hell hadn’t meant to, not with everything happening. Yet, at some point when she had been sitting beside the fire wrapped in Grant’s warm embrace with Daisy on her feet, she must have succumbed to her exhaustion. As she woke, she looked out at the fire. During the night, someone must have kept it fed, as it was in full roar, a trio of large blackened logs at its heart.

  She was lying on a bed of pine boughs, and there was a thin Mylar blanket over her. It surprised her that she had been sleeping so hard that someone could have moved her in such a way, but at the same time, exhaustion had that effect on her. Honestly, she couldn’t recall a time she had been more physically or emotionally drained.

  She had been in some real pits of hell before—her thoughts drifted back to the empty pair of shoes at the bomb site—but even then, she had struggled to find sleep. During that time in her life, she had turned to sleeping pills and vodka. Her body never allowed her to sleep like she had last night.

  There was the crunch of footsteps in the snow behind her, and she considered pretending she was still asleep. Yet, no matter how much she wanted to hide from the reality that she was confronted with, Lily depended on her.

  She turned. Grant was standing with his back to her, looking out at the sun as it peeked over the top of the mountains to the east. Daisy was seated on the ground beside him, and he was scratching behind her ears. Of course, Daisy would be amenable to a good-looking man who wanted to give her attention. And yet, Elle couldn’t help but be a little bit jealous that the dog had given herself so freely over to the man.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked, sitting up.

  “After you fell asleep, I helped the coroner bag Catherine’s remains. Two Bear dropped the line from the helo, and we got her on board.” He took out his phone and peered down at the screen. “Catherine’s remains were transported to the medical examiner’s office, where they are already performing an autopsy. They found hair samples on her body, and they have started performing DNA analysis in hope we can find the identity of the murderer.”

  She nodded, wishing she was slightly more awake so she could make sense of everything that Grant was trying to tell her without the fuzziness of having just woken. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. You should’ve woken me. I could’ve been out there helping you guys.” She was suddenly embarrassed that he had witnessed her inability to keep pace with what the situation required. “Where’s the SAR team? Have they found anything, any idea as to Lily’s location? Has there been a ransom call?”

  He looked down at his hands as he scratched Daisy’s head slightly more vigorously. “No calls. Yet. They have started working their way down the mountain. This morning, actually about an hour ago, on the other side of the mountain saddle, they found evidence that a helicopter had been on-site.”

  “Another helicopter, as in one besides Two Bear?” She was confused.

  “When Two Bear airlifted the SAR team out, we talked to them, and they said they hadn’t been in that specific area—we are thinking someone picked up Lily and her kidnapper before you and I made it to Catherine.”

  “How do they know it was Lily?” She heard the frantic note in her voice.

  “They found a child’s tracks near the pickup site. They were covered by last night’s snowfall. Lily is gone, airlifted out. If nothing else, at least we know she is still alive and didn’t have to spend the night on the mountain.”

  Thank goodness. “Is there any way we can track her helicopter? There has to be some kind of flight record, right?”

  “I have my teams working on that, but whoever this kidnapper is, they have resources that up until now we weren’t aware of.”

  She put her hands over her face and rubbed at her temples. “We were so close. We had a chance to save her...”

  He put his hands up in surrender. “It’s okay, we will find her. She’s relatively unharmed. She’s going to be okay.”

  “You can’t tell me any of that.” She stood up, the motion so fast that her head swam. She reached out, but there was nothing to support her and Grant rushed to her side. “I don’t believe you.” She tried to pull away from his touch, but her body was unsteady and he gripped her harder to keep her from falling.

  “You need to sit down for a minute. You’re probably really dehydrated after yesterday. Did you even drink any water?” He reached behind him and grabbed a water bottle that had been clipped to his utility belt. He opened up the lid with a squeak and handed it over.

  Though she was upset, she allowed him to help her to sit and took the water. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until the ice-cold liquid hit her parched lips. She closed the bottle and handed it back to him with a nod. Logically she knew she wasn’t angry with the man who was trying his very best to help her, yet all she wanted to do was snarl and bite at him. Why did he have to be so perfect, having everything she needed before she even knew she needed it—all while looking sexy?

  She took another swig of water and reached up to touch her hair, forgetting she was wearing a knit cap. Her hair poked out from under the edge of the hat above her ears, and she could instantly envision what a mess she must have looked like. Running her fingers over her cheek, she could feel the indentations made by the pine boughs; there was even a small pine needle stuck to the side of her cheek, and she had to scratch to free it from her skin.

  Though, what did it really matter what she looked like right now?

  The fact she cared about that at all concerned her more than her actual appearance. She wasn’t one to get too wrapped up in vanity, but when she was, under these circumstances, it made her wonder what she wasn’t admitting to herself when it came to her feelings toward Grant. His hand was on her shoulder, and she found herself enjoying the warmth of his touch.

  He barely knew her, and he had gone out of his way last night to make sure that she was comfortable and warm. Taking care of her in her moment of greatest weakness. Did that mean that he also felt something, or did it just fall under the scope of him being the nearly picture-perfect hero he seemed to be?

  No. She almost shook her head. If he is perfect, we would have Lily back in our custody. She would have never had the time to get away.

  As quickly as the angry thoughts came to her, she batted them away. It wasn’t Grant’s fault she had allowed the little girl to fall into the wrong hands. This was all her fault...everything could be pinned down to her and her error in judgments.

  “What’s the matter? Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Grant asked, sitting down on the ground beside her.

  Daisy trotted over and gave her a quick lick to the face as if she, too, could tell that Elle was struggling. She wrapped her arm around the dog’s neck, and Daisy perched against her, nuzzling her snout under Elle’s chin and snuggling in as she hugged her. “I love you, angel,” she whispered into the dog’s fur.

  There was nothing like a dog’s touch to calm the most turbulent storms in the soul. Hopefully Lily had an animal with her, something that she could touch that would help her stay calm—that was, if she was still alive.

  A sob threatened to escape from her throat, but she tried to bite it back. She was too slow, and the sound rattled from her, far too loud.

  Grant’s hand moved to her knee, and he put his other arm around her, surrounding her with his stupidly perfect body. Didn’t he realize that he was making this all so much worse by being kind? If he would just stop helping her, she could control some of the weakness and stonewall it with her normal aplomb and resolve. What was it about this man that made her break down and actually feel?

  His thumb gently stroked her inner thigh, and she felt what little control she still had drift from her. Didn’t he realiz
e what he was doing to her? He was going to make her totally melt down. There would be tears. No woman in the world wanted to wake up and just go straight to fear and crying over the things that were outside her control.

  There was only one way she was going to get out of this moment by not breaking down and just crying in front of him again. She had to do it if she wanted to save what little pride she had left.

  Before she had a chance to reconsider her impulsive thought, she leaned over and pushed her lips to his. He hadn’t been ready, but neither was she, and his lips were pulled into a thin smile, making it so she kissed the cool slickness of his teeth.

  What was I thinking? Gah, I can be so stupid sometimes.

  Embarrassment filled her and she started to move, but before she could pull away, he took her face in his hands and closed his mouth and kissed her back. The tip of his tongue darted out, and he moved it gently against her bottom lip; she followed, tasting the lingering sweetness of his gum and the bite of the cold mountain air. He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs, and his lips slowed, moving her starved, hurried action into a sultry, deep kiss. It was like he could read her mind, follow her thoughts...thoughts and desires she didn’t even know she had...and yet that he could satisfy.

  If she hadn’t gone through so many emotions, she would have called this her very best first kiss. What if this was her last first kiss?

  What if she had screwed up her best first kiss by stealing it in the wrong moment but with the right man?

  Worse, what if she had just had her first and last kiss with Grant? What if he was once again just trying to save her feelings by doing what he thought she wanted him to do and once they got back down into the valley and back to their lives, he would let her down gracefully? What if none of this was real? Or what if he was only kissing her because she was kissing him—was it just some kiss of opportunity?