Chapter 8

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asked, taking a quick look at her screen. It showed a woman crying, probably the child’s mother, and a group of deputies milling about the campground.

“They’re tromping all over the scene. Sadie will never be able to pick up a scent,” she said with unconcealed anger. “I knew it. I just knew it. When I checked in with the sheriff, he was so condescending. He claimed he understood how to work with S&R—if he ever needed them.”

The sheriff’s attitude didn’t surprise Kyle. Despite some progress, there was a macho approach toward women in many police forces. Even a pretty woman trained to handle a bloodhound.

“What’s the sheriff supposed to do?” Kyle asked, although he had a good idea. He wanted Jennifer to talk to him.

“Cordon off the area. Keep everyone back until we arrive. That way Sadie can easily pick up a scent.”

“Is there a chance she still can?”

Jennifer reached back and fondled Sadie’s long ears. “A chance, a very slim chance.”

“How does scent tracing work exactly?” he asked, again prompting her to talk.

“Everyone sheds minute particles of skin as they move.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, yet there was a serious undertone. “They also lose hair, but not as much. Fibers from their clothes drop as well. Sadie ‘locks on’ to the scent and follows it.”

“Nose to the ground,” he said over his shoulder to the bloodhound. “Right, old girl?”

“Sadie is different than a tracker dog who is trained to sniff the ground. Those dogs are searching for the smell of crushed leaves and grass as much as they are the person’s scent. Mantrailers like Sadie can go to ground or sniff the wind and pick up the scent where it catches on underbrush or drifts through the air.”

“Really?” He reached back and gave Sadie a quick pat. “Impressive.”

“Sadie can trail a man in a boat or a car,” added Jennifer with unmistakable pride. “She’s found bodies underwater.”

“Underwater? How?”

“A dead body releases a powerful gas that rises to the surface. All I have to do is take Sadie out on a boat, and she’ll bark when she smells the gas.”

“How do you give her a dead person’s scent to follow?”

“Body-in-a-bottle. I keep a small vial of fluid distilled from a cadaver in my backpack. On searches, there’s always a chance the person will fall into water and drown. I just might need to bring out the vial today and give Sadie a whiff.” She threw back her head and gazed at the Jeep’s ceiling, raw anguish charging her voice now. “Let’s hope that arrogant jerk of a sheriff didn’t cost this little girl her life by not calling for us immediately.”

It was easy to see how upset Jennifer was about the lost child. She truly cared; it wasn’t just a job to her. As much as he admired her sensitivity, he knew how dangerous emotion was in the field. It was a lesson he’d learned in the school of hard knocks, a lesson that had damn near cost him his life.

Even though he had made it out of Libya alive, his leg had been shattered. He could walk and run, but he no longer had the agility and peak performance necessary for Seal 6 missions. The career he loved ended thanks to a lapse of cool, unemotional judgment. Because of a woman.

He glanced over his shoulder at Sadie, determined to change the subject. “I want to see you in action.” He thought a moment as he drove into Big Pine Key. “Where did you get Sadie? She must have cost a hunk of change.”

What the hell was wrong? Something had shifted in the depths of her steady gaze, warning him … of what? “I picked Sadie from a litter of my stepfather’s last bloodhound bitch. I raised her and trained her myself.”

He sensed he should proceed with caution. The was something in the past troubling her, but he knew she wasn’t ready to talk to him about it. Yet.

Silence filled the car, charging the strange tension binding them. And keeping them apart. They passed a telephone pole where an osprey was making a graceful landing on a nest at the very top. Kyle pointed to the bird, trying to make conversation.

“Ospreys mate for life and return to the same nest year after year. See how big the nest is?” Jennifer nodded. “They add a little to it every year. That pair has been together a long time.”

Another silence fell between them. Usually the quiet didn’t bother him. He wasn’t a man who felt the need to talk. He enjoyed comfortable silences when he was with friends.

This, however, wasn’t one of those companionable lapses in a conversation. He forced himself to keep talking. “We’re on Big Pine Key now. Keep your eye out for the miniature deer that live in the brush. There are so few left that they’re almost extinct. That makes them a tourist attraction.”

“It’s just tourist hype. I didn’t see any on the drive down.”

Her answer was as flat as the tidepool they were passing, but just like the small pool of water, there was a whole other world beneath the surface. Once again, he wondered what had happened to Jenny during the time they’d been apart. Where in hell had she acquired the skill to train a bloodhound?

“Sadie must be highly skilled to be on the new antiterrorist team.”

“Yes, last year I took Sadie to Extreme Bloodhound Training Camp, then we went to the National Police Bloodhound Association for their seminar. I used Sadie to demonstrate solutions to mantrailing problems.”

“Like what?”

“Water causes the most problems for mantrailers. Scent rises from the water, then drifts on the wind. Dogs bark the minute they catch the scent. That does not mean the body is directly beneath the boat. You need to take a small handful of baby powder and toss it in the air. Watching closely, you’ll be able to determine the wind direction. Following the powder’s drift pattern, Sadie barks again when the scent becomes stronger. It’s a difficult skill for a dog to acquire.”

Once again pride swelled in his chest. Jennifer wasn’t just another pretty face. The Jenny he’d remembered had grown up the way he’d expected, becoming an interesting, competent woman.

“It sounds like you’re as valuable as Sadie. She picks up the scent; you interpret it.” She shrugged as if her contributions didn’t really matter. “You’re one hell of a team.”

She might have smiled a little. He couldn’t be sure because he had to watch the traffic in Big Pine Key. The tiny Key deer meant mega business, it seemed. Strip malls. Shopping centers. Winn-Dixies filled with snowbirds sporting sunburns.

“You studied the terrain as well as the animals down here?” he asked, although he knew she was too professional to leave anything to chance.

“Yes. Much of the land is marshy, but some keys have limestone cap rock honeycombed with sink holes concealed by ferns and groundcover. Many of the holes are small enough for Sadie to step into and break her leg. Others are large, filled with water, a favorite spot for alligators.” She reached back and petted the bloodhound. “This will be one of our toughest cases.”

Deer Watch Campground’s parking lot was full. The local media had gotten wind of the story, and every law enforcement officer in the lower keys seemed to be on the scene. They unloaded Sadie, who was bouncing on all fours, tail wagging.

“Sheriff Prichett is over there.”

Being tall had its advantages. He could see over the crowd and spot the beefy sheriff giving a statement to the press. The man had a long, narrow face with an unusually thick bridge of his nose, as if it had been broken many times but never set by a doctor. Kyle had been around Key West long enough to have run across Prichett more than once. If his brains were taxed, the redneck would get a rebate.

The sheriff was saying, “The state police have set up a roadblock at Key Largo.”

“What’s happening?” whispered Jennifer.

“It sounds like the little girl has been abducted.”

Fear became a high-pitched scream in Jennifer’s veins, in her head, in her heart, the way it always did when a child was lost. The past stole its way into her consciousness even though she sternly reminded herself this was a new search—another child.

She told herself to forget the past and be professional. With luck, the child was lost because kidnappings too often involved molestation and violence. Being lost was enough of a frightening experience. Being abducted usually scarred a child for life—if the child survived.

Sheriff Prichett answered a few questions, his vowels slurring into each other, the heart of Dixie in his voice. When he finished, the group of reporters stampeded past them, heading for their cars and vans. No doubt they would speed up the Overseas Highway to the roadblock at Key Largo.

Flanked by his deputies, Sheriff Prichett walked toward them on his way to his squad car. “We don’t need you,” sneered the sheriff as he walked by Jennifer without breaking stride.

Kyle stepped in front of the trio. They halted, the sheriff scowling, obviously angry, though he didn’t say a word. Inwardly, she smiled. The sheriff’s attitude toward women and K-9 units irritated her from the moment she’d gone to his office to introduce herself. But even a cracker like the sheriff who had a room temperature IQ knew better than to blow off Kyle Parker.

“What makes you think she was abducted?” Kyle asked.

“A child fitting Holly Block’s description was seen being taken from the side of the road and put into a car not far from here.” The sheriff’s tone was clipped, clearly conveying his annoyance, yet stopping just short of being confrontational.

“Why do you believe it was the missing girl?”

“Cuz we searched, walkin’ shoulder ta’ shoulder, this side of the highway. Holly was nowhere around. The highway iz so busy that she couldn’t have crossed it. She had to have been lured to a car by a sexual pervert.”

The word sexual was hard to decipher, considering the sheriff’s strong Southern accent. It came out seck-shoo-all and made Jennifer shudder. She said a silent prayer for the little girl, hoping the roadblock worked. But she had driven from Miami with Sadie and knew there were many back roads in the keys leading farther and farther away from civilization to unnamed flats and thick mangroves that were nearly impassable.

Anything could happen to a defenseless little girl.

“Isn’t it possible Holly crossed the highway?” Kyle asked. “Did you look over there?”

Slack-jawed, Sheriff Prichett glared at Kyle. Even Jennifer had to admit this was a long, long shot. The Overseas Highway was the only land route down the keys. A child wouldn’t have a prayer of a chance of crossing the road without being hit by the constant stream of traffic.

“I don’t rightly know why we would waste our time on the other side of the road.” The sheriff lost patience and stepped around Kyle. “Come on, boyz. We’ve gotta job ta do.”

“What time was the little girl spotted?” Kyle called after him.

“About two o’clock,” one of the deputies replied.

Kyle waited until they reached the squad car before saying, “Here’s where the satellite-linked surveillance system is of real value—in human terms.”

He led Jennifer over to a picnic table littered with empty Styrofoam coffee cups and soda cans. The media must have been using it. He gathered the trash and dumped it in a nearby garbage can. Holding the very hyper Sadie in check, she watched him set up the laptop he’d taken from the case.

She struggled with herself, trying not to picture the lost child in her mind. Despite her efforts, the image appeared, the way it always did when she was asked to search for a lost child. Green eyes with wispy lashes that were too long for a child not yet three. And the sweetest smile on earth.

Stop it! Concentrate, Jennifer!

“The satellite’s photographs are archived in the ‘deep’ computer at the Pentagon,” Kyle was saying, not realizing her mind had wandered. “We can rewind the video just the way you would a VCR at home, only we use the computer to do it. Let’s backtrack to the time she was seen getting in the car.”

While he logged on, she took off Sadie’s choke chain. The dog gazed up at her with soulful eyes as if to say: What happened? “It’s okay, girl. Sit. Relax a minute.”

Kyle patted the seat beside him, and Jennifer sat down, swinging her legs over the bench. In order to see the small screen, she had to scoot uncomfortably close to him. Sitting hip to hip, thigh to thigh, sent a jolt of awareness through her body, and a parade of goosebumps formed across the back of her neck, which made her positively furious with herself.

“I have to admit this Kevlar jumpsuit is really comfortable,” she said as he waited for access to be granted, determined to keep her mind on business. “I’m cooler in this than I would be in shorts.”

He looked at her in a way she found disturbingly sensual. “It’s the Thermalscan. It was developed for astronauts.”

She tried not to think about the kiss, but wasn’t successful. As much as she hated to admit it—even to herself—it had been unexpectedly erotic. She’d been waging a mental battle for hours now, telling herself Chad’s kisses elicited just as much passion. But it wasn’t true.

Conceding this did not go down well. It made her feel like a traitor. Chad was off on assignment, risking his life. She had no right to be thinking about Kyle Parker this way. She attributed her reaction to suppressed memories.

Didn’t someone once say you never forgot your first love?

That’s all this was—all it could ever be: a subconscious response to memories and feelings she’d had in the past.

“Thermalscan is great,” she said, the dryness in her throat irritating her. She swallowed hard, then licked her lips. “You’re in.” She nodded to the screen, thankful to have something to concentrate on besides Kyle. And the past.

He pushed the laptop over a few inches so it was in front of her. “The only way you’ll learn is to do this yourself.”

As he leaned disturbingly close to show her what to do, she ignored the patter of her heart, forcing herself to concentrate on his instructions. She thought of the little girl getting into a car with a stranger. Suddenly, everything else left her mind.

“That’s it,” Kyle told her. “You’re looking at Big Pine Key at a little before two o’clock when the child was seen getting into the car. Zoom down, using the touch pad to move the cursor north of the city to the campground.”

She did it, amazed at how quickly the computer responded to the light touch of her finger. “I see the campground. The sheriff and his men are there, and so are the media. I don’t see any sign of Holly along the highway.”

“Go farther north and look.”

Nothing.

“Let’s move even more north toward Harbor Keys,” he said.

She nudged her fingertip up a hair’s breadth. “Look! There’s just one car on the highway and it’s slowing down. Where is everyone?”

Traffic in the keys was legendary. People drove southward to Key West in a steady stream all day long. Only in the dead of night did the flow of traffic slow this much.

“I don’t know. Move up toward Spanish Key.”

She moved her fingertip too quickly across the sensitive pad, and the cursor shot up to Bahia Honda above Spanish Key. She eased her finger backward and Spanish Key came into view. The slugfest of cars was stopped, but she couldn’t see why until she hit Zoom.

“Look at that. Two manatees and their young calf giving the tourists a show,” Kyle said. “No wonder traffic stopped.”

The manatee always reminded Jennifer of a walrus without tusks. The gentle creatures were endangered. Seeing a pair with a calf was a rare treat.

“Kyle, tourists will always stop for sights like this. That could have halted traffic and have given the child the opportunity to cross the highway.”

“Possibly. Go south again,” Kyle instructed. “Let’s see what was happening with the car we saw slowing down.”

The minute adjustment was difficult to make. Her finger kept dragging the cursor too far south, but finally she found the car again. It was traveling north at a normal speed.

“Too much time lapsed. Hit Backspace and hold the key down until the time clock at the corner goes back three minutes.” She did as she was told, and the picture blurred, rewinding backward; then she lifted her finger.

They watched as the Toyota slowed to a stop and the car door opened. A woman got out, and turned to help out a young girl. The woman tugged on the child’s shorts.

“Potty time,” Kyle said. “I don’t think this is the same child. Did you get a description of Holly Block?”

“Yes. It’s not Holly. She has blond hair like this child, but Holly’s wearing a pink romper and pink sandals.”

“Uh-oh,” Kyle said, shaking his head. “Check this. Here comes another car, traveling past them just as the mother is putting that child into the car.”

“I’ll bet those people reported this to the sheriff, mistaking it for an abduction.”

“Damn straight.”

“Now what?”

Her sense of alarm heightened, kicking up her pulse. The little girl had disappeared hours ago, and now the authorities were off on a wild-goose chase. Fear seeped from every pore as she recalled another search when there was a delay in looking for a little girl.

Kyle didn’t hesitate. “Back up the tape to the time she was reported missing.”

Jennifer hit the backspace key and held it down, watching the clock in the corner of the screen. “It looks like this is it. People are scurrying around the camp, but there’s no sign of the sheriff.”

“Back it up again—five, maybe ten minutes, max. Let’s see what was happening before they knew Holly was missing.”

She tapped the backspace key again and watched the clock. “Here we go. The camp is pretty quiet. I don’t see any sign of the child, but I do see a number of cars on the highway, driving past the camp.”

“Back off on the zoom. You don’t want to be in too tight.”

She touched the key and the camera lifted, giving her a broader view of the area. Up the road, she noticed several cars stopped. At this point, there wasn’t any water close to the highway, so it couldn’t have been another manatee. Without waiting for Kyle to tell her, she zoomed closer.

“A deer. The poor little guy is trying to cross the road, stopping traffic coming south. Holly could be south of here, crossing the highway.” She started to zoom even closer, but Kyle interrupted.

“Move back toward the camp.”

She did as she was told and saw a blond toddler in pink chasing a butterfly. “No cars are on the highway.” She pointed at the child on the screen. “Holly’s crossing the highway following the butterfly into the mangroves.” She shot to her feet. “Come on, Sadie. That little girl’s in big, big trouble.”