Kaleidoscope Eyes (35 page)

O
CTOBER
21—A B
LACKJACK
I
RIS
D
AY
(G
REEN AND
B
LACK
)

1:00 p.m.

The heat beat down, as relentless as time.

Unfortunately neither the weather nor the clock offered an ounce of mercy Normally, in weather this arid and hot, Annie wouldn’t be out here. Wouldn’t let Kodi keep working.

But the dog was as reluctant as she to leave the search area.

Eight days.

How could fifty search and rescue members have searched for eight days and seven nights with no sign of the lost girl? Not one sign?

Well, that wasn’t quite true. Kodi had alerted three times. The odd thing about the alerts, though, was that they were in entirely different search grids. Amberly would have had to travel some serious distance to be in each of those grids. Annie thought maybe Kodi was alerting on a hunter or a hiker. Air scenting dogs
were looking for any human scent, not just the scent specific to the subject.

But each time Kodi led Annie to a location, no one was there. No hunter. No hiker. No lost child.

No sign of
any
human.

It was as though whoever had been there—and somebody had been for Kodi to alert—had erased all her tracks. And done a very good job of it.

The first time it happened Dan was with her and Kodi. Normally her backup would have been a second SAR member. On that particular morning, however, Dan pulled rank, informing Annie and the incident commander that he would be his sister’s backup. It would be a waste of breath—and time—to argue.

“Kodi doesn’t do false alerts often, does she?”

Annie pulled her attention from her dog to her brother. “She’s never done one.”

“So … ”

She shrugged. “I have no idea what happened” In fact, after the third false alert, Annie wanted to tear her hair out. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she was sure of this much: Something was rotten in Denmark.

The thought sent a pang through her. Amazing how any hint of Shakespeare brought Jed to mind.

She missed him. How she’d love to just talk with him, to vent her frustration over the way the search was going. Or, to be more accurate,
wasn’t
going. He’d been gone what, over a week?

Yes, he left the night the callout came.

“Been gone a long time.”

Annie blinked. Had Dan been reading her mind? “What? Who?”

“Kodi.” He scrutinized her. “You with us here, sis?”

She was about to inform her brother she was
always
“with it” on a search when the jingling of Kodi’s bell sounded. Annie punched her brother’s shoulder, just for principle, then turned and watched for the shepherd to appear.

“It’s not an alert, is it?”

Annie shook her head. “Ringing’s too relaxed. I’m betting she’s coming back for water.”

Bingo.

The dog trotted out of the woods and came to nudge the water dish at Annie’s belt. She filled it and set it down, then pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and tipped the water bottle again, wetting the cloth, and wiping her face.

Dan held out his handkerchief as well. “Man, it’s hot!”

Annie stood. “Can you remember the last time it was this hot in October? Especially up here, in the mountains?”

“I remember a few times we hit seventy, even eighty, this time of year. But close to ninety? No way.”

Of course, it was better searching conditions—and survival conditions—than October usually offered. “At least we don’t have to worry about Amberly dealing with snow.”

“Always a silver lining, eh, sis?”

Might as well try to find one. Triple digits were no longer cause for exclamation but rather the norm. During the day, that was. No sooner did the sun set than thermometers decided that, yes, it was autumn, and so they plummeted, dipping low enough to coax almost forgotten jackets out of the backs of closets.

Annie glanced at the brutally blue sky Two of the elder members of SAR had compared notes on the weather as they ate breakfast that morning. Wilma, who looked as rugged as the mountains around them, commented on the unusual heat. Jasper, a man who had to be in this seventies and yet walked the wilderness with the energy of a teenager, snorted.

“You think this is hot? Eighty-nine degrees ain’t
nothin’!
You shoulda been here summer of ’46 when we hit 115. Yessir, now
that
was hot.”

“You are dreamin’, old man. It never hit that up here. In the valley, maybe, but not up here.”

Jasper helped himself to more eggs. “Alls I know is there’s only one thing you can count on with Oregon weather.”

“That you can’t count on it.”

“Darn you, woman. Stop stealing my lines!”

Annie had laughed along with the rest of the unit. They knew what the two elder members said was true. That was part of the region’s appeal. People who lived in Oregon relished its unpredictability.

Most days, Annie counted herself in the relish camp. Especially when she was in the mountains. Nothing like a hike in the woods to refresh the spirit.

Today, though, she hated it.

Hot. Dry. No wind. Conditions custom-tailored to hamper a search. And that’s exactly what they were doing.

A soft whine drew Annie’s attention, and she put a comforting hand on Kodi’s broad head. The German shepherd studied her, a slight wrinkle between those intelligent brown eyes.

“Hey, you’re supposed to read the air, girl, not me.”

Dan held the ends of his damp handkerchief and twirled it, then tied it around his neck. “You ask me, she’s as tuned in to you as anything else around her. Sometimes more so.”

He was right, of course. She and Kodi were bonded, big time. They needed to be for what they did.

Besides, Annie loved the big moose. With all her heart.

But that connection could be a problem if Annie’s mood was bad. As it was on days like today, when she let her frustration build.

Shake it off, Annie. So you haven’t found Amberly yet. It’ll happen.

She pushed her damp bangs back off her warm face. “This is going to sound weird … ”

“So what else is new.”

Annie gave Dan the sister face and went on. “I’ve just been thinking. I mean, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear someone was working against us. You know, planting scent, misleading, moving the girl … ”

Dan looked like he was holding something back. Annie planted her feet and stared at him. “Come on, big brother. Let’s have it.”

“I don’t want to frustrate you.”

“So why should today be any different?”

It was his turn to give her the brother face. “I’m just wondering, are you sure that’s not just sour grapes talking because you haven’t found Amberly yet?”

She lifted one shoulder. “I thought about that too. I mean, it’s been really frustrating. But I’m telling you, Dan, two of the times Kodi alerted, we were
close.
I’m
sure
of it. Kodi was just too excited, too definite, for there not to have been
some
one there.”

“And?”

“And when she led me to the find location, it was the same as it’s been on every other alert. Nobody there. And Kodi seemed as confused and upset as I was.”

“I don’t know what to say, sis.”

Neither did she. Because a small part of her wondered …

Was she doing something wrong? Was she hindering Kodi somehow without even being aware of it?

Maybe Dan was right. Maybe you should have stayed home on this one.

She shook her head. Now that was sour grapes talking.

And fear.

Annie wiped the cool handkerchief at the back of her neck. Yes. There was fear. Thanks to those stupid, stupid notes. With each passing day, she’d been less and less successful pushing them out of her mind.

The only saving grace had been that they couldn’t follow her out here.

Kodi slurped up every drop of water from her dish, then nudged Annie with her nose again.

“She wants more?”

Annie looked down at her girl. No denying the dog was hot and tired. With a soul-deep sigh, Annie poured more water into the dish, then crouched beside Kodi. She didn’t say a word, just put her arm over the animal’s shoulders, letting her touch convey the comfort she wanted to give.

When Kodi drained the dish again, Annie picked it up, clipped it to her belt, and stood.

“What say we head back to camp?”

Annie nodded. “It’s time. We need a break.” She patted her leg. “Okay, Kodi girl. Back to camp.”

The shepherd didn’t budge.

Dan’s brows rose. “Wow. I didn’t think she ever disobeyed you.”

“You’re a dreamer. She’s got a mind of her own, and if she thinks I’m wrong—” she indicated the inert animal—“she lets me know.”

“So she thinks you’re wrong about something?”

Annie planted her hands on her hips, holding Kodi’s gaze. The dog’s eyes flitted to the side, then came back to her. But for all that she showed submission, she still didn’t move.

“She knows what
camp
means.”

Dan gave a slow nod. “That you’re quitting the search. And she doesn’t want to go.”

“Apparently not.” She kneeled in front of the dog. “Come on, Kode. It’s too hot. For you and for me.”

And for Amberly.
Father, please, be with her.

Kodi sat there, eyes wide and intent. And just a shade defiant.

“You could just grab her collar and make her come.”

“I could. But I’d rather not.” Annie put her hands on either side of Kodi’s face and tipped the dog’s head so that their foreheads touched. “Kodi, come on. You need rest. So do I.” Her voice cracked. “It’s no help to Amberly if we miss something or end up hurt because we’re tired.”

A deep groan rumbled in Kodi’s chest—a sorrowful though simple capitulation. Annie couldn’t hold back her tears. The dog was giving in, not because she wanted to, but because she trusted her mistress.

If only, Annie thought as she stood and the three of them started back toward camp, she felt the same way.

2:00 p.m.

Annie lay in her tent, staring at the nylon ceiling. Kodi was deep asleep beside her.

Good. At least one of them would be rested when they went out again tonight.

Annie had tried to sleep. But her brain wouldn’t shut down. It kept running over and over the last few days, second-guessing, telling her how many ways she’d misdirected Kodi, that their failure was her fault.

All her fault.

“You think that little girl is still alive?”

Annie turned her head. Someone was talking beside her tent.

“After so much time in this weather and terrain? I’d say the odds aren’t good.”

“So I take it the ‘Wonder Team’ is still out searching?”

“Nah. They came in hours ago. I think they’re sleeping.”

She didn’t recognize the voices, but searchers from a number of neighboring states had been called in so there were plenty of people Annie didn’t know. Even so, the snide comments cut deep.

“Like that’ll make a difference.”

“Man, I thought these two could find anyone.”

“Shows you how wrong the media can be, I guess.”

Annie heard feet rustling across the dry ground as the voices moved away. She turned onto her stomach and pressed her aching eyes against her forearm.
Don’t take it personally. You know how frustrated searchers get when they can’t find a child. It eats at them. Just like it’s eating at you. And then they lash out.

It doesn’t mean anything.

She knew it was true. All of it. But that didn’t make the mean-spirited comments much easier to bear.

God … please. Let someone find Amberly. I don’t care who. It doesn’t have to be Kodi and me.

Liar
. You
want to find her. Want to prove you’re as good as anyone else. That you belong here.

Annie’s hands fisted.
No. I don’t care if everyone thinks we’re failures.
I just want Amberly back with her family Otherwise …

Her throat constricted. Otherwise, she’d never be able to look Brianna in the face again. Never be able to take Kodi to the vet without facing their failure.

Failure that cost a little girl her life.

Jesus … please …

Dark emotions weighed down on her—deep, ugly shades of red, pressing down, as though a heavy hand reached into her tent and pressed, pushing her deeper into the ground. And Annie’s frustration only grew when she realized that something else was nagging at her.

Jed hadn’t called. Not once! Not to say he was back, not to ask how are you, not to say go jump in the lake.

Annie didn’t know what angered her more. That he hadn’t called, or that it bothered her so much. With all that was going on in the search, Jed calling shouldn’t even matter. But it did.