Flee the Night (38 page)

She plowed into the fractured shadows of the forest, watching Missy work the scent. The dog stopped, circled, her nose high, turned, and looked at Dannette. Dannette used her clicker to urge the dog forward. The handheld device gave instant encouragement without having to rely on verbal cues.

The rain drizzled down into her jacket and she shivered—hungry, cold, tired. But she refused to think of the hot shower waiting. Not until she found Mrs. Humphrey.

No one deserved to die alone. Without family.

The thought roughened her throat as she steadied herself on a skinny poplar and climbed over a downed, softened birch.

Without family.
No, Dannette had a family—her dogs, Sherlock and Missy. Probably the only real family she’d ever had, except for Jim Micah and the other members of Team Hope. Yeah, they felt like family. At least as far as she’d let them inside her heart.

It just wasn’t wise to let people that close. Because getting close also meant getting a glimpse of the nightmares she still hadn’t shaken.

This is not about Ashley.
Dannette told herself that twice as she watched Missy run back, the hair on her neck bristled. Breathing rapidly, Missy sat, a passive alert to the target scent.

“Good dog,” Dannette said. “Refind.”

The dog bounded off, far enough ahead to keep the scent but not so far that Dannette couldn’t see her.
Please, Lord, have her on the trail of something real and alive.
She could still hear little Robby—Fern’s grandson—pleading in the back of her mind.
Please, find her
, moaned another voice, one buried in her heart.

She pushed through a netting of branches and flinched for only a second when one backhanded her. The smell of decay and loam stirred up from the melting snow and foraging animals clung to the night air. Darkness drifted like fine particles of snow through the forest, so gradual as to nearly not recognize its accumulation. A cool breeze carried the echo of barking, a faint tugging on Dannette’s ears as she pushed aside tree limbs and plowed through bramble. Hopefully Kirby and Kelly weren’t far behind.

Missy waited at the base of a large rooted trio of birch. She looked at Dannette, her ears pricked forward. Dannette put a hand on her back. “Find.”

She fought to keep Missy in her sight. They’d have to quit soon, and that thought made her want to weep.

Please, Lord, let them find Mrs. Humphrey. Alive.

Missy barked, an active alert that she’d uncovered something. Dannette marked a tree with a reflector, then plunged through the brush after the dog. Missy stood, outlined in a hover of pine.

“Search 2 to Search 1.” Kelly’s voice broke over the radio.

Dannette keyed her radio while she tried to get a fix on her canine. “Search 1 here.” The deepening twilight turned the forest into a black-and-white, low-budget horror movie, complete with escaping birds and the rustle of ominous wind. Dannette reached for her flashlight, flicked it on.

Froze.

Missy stood over a form, a body for sure, dressed in dark pants and a blue Windbreaker, crumpled in the fetal position, its back to her.

Mrs. Humphrey?

Her heart banging against her ribs, Dannette held her breath and approached. Missy danced around the form, animated, her breaths fast.

Dannette’s chest clogged, and a tiny, panicked voice inside told her to turn and
run
. The dark memories lurked on the fringes of this moment to snare her and suck her down, to drown her.

Dannette held back a gasp and reached for her dog.

The form wore a black bag over its head. The smell of death didn’t permeate the air, but the fine hairs on Dannette’s neck prickled as she inched away. “Good dog,” she whispered.

Static proceeded Kelly’s voice, punctuating the moment, frazzling Dannette’s tightly strung nerves. “I found her! Mrs.

Humphrey is alive!”

Dannette’s knees gave out, a weakness borne from part relief, part horror. And maybe a little from the ringing in her ears.

Who exactly had
she
found?