Alaska Twilight (29 page)
She climbed higher until the branches began to thin out and she was afraid they might break. The bear circled the tree beneath her, pausing occasionally to shake the tree. She stared down at its humped back as it lumbered around and around. What would happen if she got too tired? She straddled the limb and hung on as tightly as she could. As she moved, the whistle around her neck swung against her chest, and she grabbed it. She’d forgotten all about it.
She pulled it to her lips and blew on it with all her strength. The piercing shriek hurt her ears. The bear grunted and ran off toward the river. She could only hope one of the searchers heard it.
T
rucks and four-wheel-drive vehicles lined the narrow track and blocked further progress along the lane. Tank pulled up as far as he could go. The vehicles were empty, and trees blocked any view of the people who had to be here somewhere. He jumped out of the SUV and ran to the truck ahead of it. It held a dog crate in the back.
Tank tipped his head to the side and listened. He could hear distant barking. “Search dogs,” he told Chet, who matched his steps.
“We’re lucky they were still in the area.” Chet huffed as he struggled to keep up with Tank.
They followed the sound of voices and dogs. “Libby!” Tank shouted. He heard an answering shout from his sister, and then she came running through the timber.
“Tank!” She launched herself into his arms. Her face was streaked with dirt and tears. “We haven’t found her yet.”
His chest ached even as he comforted his sister. “We’ll find her.” He released her, and they hurried toward the searchers. Dead leaves crunched under his boots, and their decaying aroma filled him with stark fear for his daughter’s safety.
He, Libby, and Chet walked silently. They came to a clearing where searchers and dogs milled around. Libby introduced him to the searchers and pointed out the lead search dog, Samson. Tank watched the handsome German shepherd mix meandering aimlessly through the wildflowers. “What’s wrong?” Samson looked back at them, then held his head high and sniffed the air.
“They’re trying to pick up the scent again,” Bree said. “Samson and the others are air-scent dogs. People give off wafts of skin that linger in the air. A good air-scent dog can pick the scent out of the air and follow it to its source. They’ve lost the scent right now.”
“What could cause that?” Chet asked. “Did they ford the river?”
Bree shook her head. “An air-scent dog can track the scent into the water. The most remarkable recovery of a cadaver happened here in Alaska when some dogs found a body three hundred feet under the water.” She frowned. “I’m not sure what’s wrong. Generally, they only lose the scent if the person travels in an enclosed vehicle. That would be hard to do out here.”
“Unless they got picked up by a helicopter or a plane,” Tank suggested. He walked to a clearing and scanned the ground for evidence of an air vehicle. “A chopper could land here, or a plane could have landed on a sandbar in the river and picked them up.”
“That might be what happened.” Regret tinted Bree’s words. “Samson isn’t getting anything.”
Tank’s hope began to die. He couldn’t see any evidence of a helicopter having landed here, so he walked to the edge of the water. “Is there any way we can tell where the scent leaves off ?”
Bree snapped her fingers, and Samson ran to her. She ran her hand over his curly coat, then held out the bag with the sock again. “Search, Samson.” Her tone held urgency. He whined, and his head went up. He ran back and forth across the clearing, then raced to the edge of the water.
“I’d say a seaplane lifted them from here,” Bree said, joining Tank at the edge of the river. “The current is pretty slow here, so it should have been able to land safely.”
“Yeah.” Tank took off his floppy hat and fished a handkerchief out of his pocket, then wiped his brow. “Any other recourse?” He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Marley.
“Not unless we get some general idea of the quadrant where they landed. We have to get the dogs close enough to pick up the scent.”
Chet dug out his radio. “There’s no way of knowing where they went right now. I’ll check with air-traffic control in Anchorage and see if a small plane posted a flight plan in this area.”
Bree squeezed Tank’s hand. “At least you know your daughter isn’t wandering alone in the woods. If there’s anything else we can do to help, let us know. Kade and I will be here for another two days, but we could delay our departure if you need us to stay.”
Libby looked around. “Where’s Haley?”
“She was here a few minutes ago,” one of the women said.
“She’s afraid of the wilderness,” Tank said to Libby. “You should have kept a better eye on her. She couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag.”
“Stay calm,” Bree said. “Do you have anything that belongs to her? It will be contaminated with other scents, but Samson is smart enough to figure out what I want him to do.”
“I’ve got her camera bag,” Libby said. She slipped it off and handed it to Bree.
“Perfect! Her scent is most likely the only one inside.” She unzipped the top and held it out to the dogs. All three crowded around, jockeying for position. “Search, Samson!” He nosed it eagerly, then crisscrossed the meadow. Watching him for several minutes, Bree finally shook her head. “He’s not getting it here.”
Kade put his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s walk back the way we came. We’ll have to pick up her scent eventually.”
“This way.” Tank led them toward the lane. He stopped frequently to check his compass.
“Anchorage is checking into their records,” Chet told him. “We’ll find them. When I do, Marley is in big trouble.”
Samson began to bark, and his tail wagged frantically. “He’s found the scent!” Bree called. “Search, Samson.” The dog raced off to the east, his tail held high in the air. The other dogs followed.
Tank ran after them. Spruce branches whipped at him and left traces of sap on his face and shirt. The rough, uneven ground slowed him down, but he pressed on. He leaped over a stream that crossed in front him and plowed on. A piercing whistle rose above the rustling of the wind in the spruce boughs. The dogs were moving in the direction of the whistle, and he followed them, his feet kicking up a mixture of needles, wet vegetation, and twigs. He fought his way through blueberry brambles into a small clearing by the river.
The dogs were barking frantically at the base of a white birch tree. He raised his gaze through the leafy branches until he saw a white face peering through the leaves. Haley. She was all right. A weight rolled off his shoulders. He walked to the base of the tree and looked up to find her clinging to a fork in the tree. Both arms wrapped around the smooth bark in front of her, she hugged the tree as if she were afraid the ground would reach up to snatch her.
“Tank, you came. Did you hear the whistle?” Her voice was a croak.
He could still hear terror in her voice, and his conscience smote him again. “That was smart thinking. Libby had your camera case too, so the dogs got your scent and led us here. Can you get down by yourself ? What are you doing up there?”
“There was a bear.”
“It probably wouldn’t have hurt you. Did you remember to make noise?” He held up his hands to help her down. She tumbled into his arms and clutched him with both hands. Her soft breath warmed the skin under his shirt as her panting began to calm. He pulled her closer, and she nestled against him. He rested his chin on the top of her head. The rest would be arriving in a moment, and he’d have to let her go, but he didn’t want to release her. It felt right to hold her.
He heard the sound of voices, Libby, Bree, and the rest. Haley wept softly against his chest, and he patted and rubbed her back until she began to calm. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe now. The bear is gone.”
She raised her head. Her eyes were red, and her skin blotchy from crying. “I started to climb the tree to see if I could see someone. I’d just gotten to the first limb when the bear came charging toward me. It wanted to eat me and wasn’t afraid.”
Tank frowned. “It might have had a cub nearby.”
“I didn’t see one. It had a torn ear. It looked like that predatory bear.” She rubbed at her face. “Could I borrow your hanky?”
He shifted uneasily. It could have been the one they were after. A brown bear’s home range could be from two hundred to five hundred square miles, and it could cover a lot of territory fast. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her. “It’s not the cleanest, but help yourself.”
She blew her nose vigorously, then stuck the handkerchief in her pocket. “Thanks. I’ll wash it and give it back to you.”
The voices grew louder, and the rest of the group broke through the blueberry patch and joined them. Haley stepped away, and Libby rushed to her side. “I’m so sorry, Haley! I should have been watching for you. Are you all right?”
Haley was pale, but she managed a smile and nodded. “I’m fine. Scared, but I’m okay now.” Her gaze swept the group, and her smile dimmed. “You didn’t find the girls?”
“No.” Tank moved toward Chet. “They were evidently picked up in a small plane.” He stopped in front of his father-in-law. “Any word from Anchorage?”
“Yeah, a small plane registered to Freemont Wilson flew out this way.”
Tank frowned. “The name familiar to you?”
Chet shook his head. “Nope. But maybe she saw him flying overhead and waved him down.”
“Maybe.” Tank wasn’t convinced. It sounded more like a plan. “I guess we’d better get to town and see if we can find this Freemont Wilson. Maybe he knows about my little girl.” It comforted him to know Brooke wasn’t spending the night in the bush. After Haley’s encounter with the bear, the forest he loved and protected felt dangerous and unfamiliar. Tank turned to lead the way back to the vehicles. The rest of the group fell into line behind him.
Haley was silent as they walked through the forest with birds chattering above their heads, and the rustle of small creatures came from all directions. She stayed close to Tank’s side, and he could see she was still shaken by her experience.
Chet’s radio squawked, and he stopped to answer it.
“Gillespie.”
Tank stopped to see if there was more news about his daughter. His stomach plummeted when he saw Chet’s jaw sag. The trooper blinked his eyes quickly and swallowed hard before clicking off the radio.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Tank demanded.
Chet wet his lips. “That was Anchorage. They say Wilson never reported in, and the last blip on their radar was over the Wrangell Mountains. They think the plane went down there.”
T
he wreckage of the plane floated in the swells and eddies of the lake. The fuselage scraped against a rock, the sound as grating as fingernails on a blackboard. The waves tossed pieces of the wings and landing gear onto the deserted beach. The pilot, Freemont Wilson, had been thrown through the windshield on impact, and his body joined the other flotsam in the cold water of the lake.
Marley stared at the desolate scene. Blood trickled from a cut on her head and matted her hair. More blood stained her blouse and slacks. Her shoes were lost somewhere. Joy moaned, and her eyelashes fluttered. Clutching Brooke, Marley assessed their options. At least they were alive. When the plane had answered her frantic wave for help, she’d thought they would soon be away from this wretched place.
How could it have turned out like this? They were miles and miles from nowhere, lost in the wilderness with no idea which way to go to find help. Luckily she and the girls were strapped in. The pilot, a heavy man in his fifties, had complained the belt obstructed his movements while trying to fly and hadn’t put his on. Her gaze wandered to his body, floating less than five feet away.
Brooke was sobbing. Her precociousness had dropped away, and she was a normal, scared five-year-old. Marley rocked her back and forth while she tried to decide what to do. The swirling water was beginning to seep into the cockpit. They were going to have to get to shore. The water was deep, but she could swim.
Reaching behind her, she grabbed her backpack. “We’re going for a little swim, sweetie,” she said, forcing cheerfulness into her voice. She patted Joy’s face. “Wake up, Joy,” she said. The girl muttered, and her eyes finally opened.
She sat up. “Where are we?” Her eyes widened when she saw the water beginning to pour into what was left of the plane.
“We have to get out of here,” Marley told her. “Swim to the shore.”
Brooke shrieked and buried her face in Marley’s chest. “I want my daddy,” she sobbed.
Marley wanted to shake her. Couldn’t Brooke see that she was only trying to do what was best? Her mind drifted to the way things would be when they were in the Lower Forty-eight. She would dress Brooke in darling pink and green outfits that made people notice her beauty. It would be the way it was supposed to have been all along. They just had to get through this. She’d find a way.
The radio squawked to life. Tank sprang to turn it up, praying that the connection would hold. It had been all he could do to hold onto his faith that God was looking out for his baby girl. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he listened to Chet speak into the radio. He didn’t feel alone, flanked as he was by Libby on one side and Haley on the other.
