Creed didn’t want to give any validity to Jason’s theory, but he couldn’t help thinking it was odd for a grandmother to act the way Dora Ramsey was. What grandmother wouldn’t be out here front and center giving details? Or digging for more? Demanding more.
For Creed, all of this brought back too many memories of when Brodie went missing. After she disappeared, his mother dragged him along for months, checking out every tidbit of information as it surfaced. Her world—and his, by extension—became a scavenger hunt.
A witness claimed he saw Brodie in a Memphis diner, and Olivia James didn’t wait for the police report. She packed up her son and went to question the man herself. A tip came in on a hotline about a little girl matching Brodie’s description going in and out of a hotel outside of Kansas City, and off they’d go again.
When Jason had asked how far a seven-year-old could go, Creed avoided telling him just how far. Because he already knew if no one had seen a little boy playing hooky—over the course of eight going on nine, hours—there was a good chance Will had been taken. And if it wasn’t a parent, Will’s odds weren’t good. Unfortunately, Creed knew that kidnappings by strangers usually resulted in murder. Sometimes within the first three hours. Most likely, within the first two days.
When he and Hannah had started K9 CrimeScents, it was a direct extension of his search for Brodie. His mother had given up years before, but Creed found he still needed answers. And although he expected to find only remains, a small pocket of hope bloomed deep inside him. It had been enough to keep him going. And sometimes late at night when he couldn’t sleep, when old demons still haunted him, he shuddered to think what would have happened to Brodie if he had given up. Like his mother had given up.
He kept an eye on Brodie, looking for glimpses of how much this situation might shake loose her own memories. After all, she knew firsthand how far an eleven-year-old could get in a matter of hours. The woman who had taken her from a rest stop would have driven across two state borders in a matter of eight hours.
Now Brodie pointed out what she considered red flags on the map. She was a stickler for details. This would be a good assignment for her. She had incredible instincts and saw things others overlooked.
In the last several months, he’d realized that if anything or anyone was holding her back, it was her overprotective big brother. Sort of the same thing he was doing with Grace. But the incident in Nebraska had taught him how strong his sister really was.
“We’re not used to working with radios,” Creed said as he leaned in closer to see the map. “Just a reminder.” He glanced at Brodie. There were a lot of balls she’d be juggling.
“I remember,” she told him. “No sudden outbursts. Gentle. Calm. Slow and easy, so I don’t surprise the dogs.”
“We’ll both start from the house. Give me and Grace a head start. Chances are, Scout will follow the exact route she does. But my guess is Will’s scent will splinter into two or three well-worn paths.”
“Do you think he would have gone into the woods?” Brodie asked. Both of them looked over at Jason for the answer. Then all three of them glanced at the forest.
A yellow monster bulldozer sat at the edge after having plowed down a swatch of pine trees. The debris piled off to the side.
“He’s a kid,” Jason finally said. “What kid doesn’t think the woods are an adventure? Maybe he just got lost.”
Creed looked back at the map. He had a bad feeling about this. Maybe it was simply the reminder of those heartbreaking searches for Brodie. Maybe it was something else. Eight hours was a long time for a seven-year-old to be missing. But Jason made a good point. The boy could have gone to explore. Maybe went farther than he meant to and lost his way. He hoped that was what happened.
He forced himself to concentrate on the map and get some bearings to their surroundings. This was the third time in less than a week that he’d been to the area. Each time, he’d noticed something different.
As recent as the map was, it couldn’t keep up with all the new construction. His eyes darted away and took in the wide strips the bulldozes had plowed into the dense woods. Somewhere on the other side, they’d caught the guy dumping concrete just the other day. How far away was that? It had to be close enough or connected by a back road.
“What’s bothering you?” Brodie asked.
He did a double take at her question. He thought he was pretty good about hiding his emotions from his dogs, but lately, his sister was able to pick up on his discomfort.
“I don’t like all this new construction. It disrupts natural habitats.” He pointed to the map, blue lines delineating creeks and streams. “We really will need to watch out for alligators. And bears.”
Brodie stared at him. Jason’s jaw clenched tight.
He tried to ignore their reactions and looked over at Jason. “Does everyone call him Will?”
“I think his grandparents call him Willie.”
“Any everyone probably calls him William when they’re upset with him,” Brodie chimed in.
“That’s a good point. Let’s call him Will with the dogs. Just in case he hears us, he won’t automatically think he’s in trouble.”
Creed used different trigger words for different searches. Telling your dog to “find drugs” in a crowded airport sent out an alarm, so he used, “go fish” or “find fish.” But when searching for a missing person who they still believed might hear them, Creed instructed his handlers to use the person’s name. Now, he thought of Caleb Monroe and realized that approach could backfire with a missing teenager if he had run away and didn’t want to be found.
Behind them, Creed heard more vehicles arriving. The neighborhood was filling up with all kinds of scents that would be trampling over the one he wanted his dogs to follow.
He held up the plastic bag Norwich had retrieved from Taylor and said, “Let’s get this started.”