Why had she woken up? Why had she left the campsite? I wanted to stop there, but couldn’t. I could see it happening in my mind. I could see small feet—bare feet—dirt-smeared and disappearing into the brush.

Bella’s feet weren’t bare, I reminded myself. Her shoes are missing, too. They’d told us that when they’d briefed us on the scene. But for some reason, the image of bare feet lingered in my mind. Somewhere, deep in my subconscious, another question reared its head. Not Where did she go? or Why did she leave? but How long?

How long before anyone bothered to look for her? I knew that question wasn’t about Bella. Bella had been gone for less than forty-eight hours, and park rangers, law enforcement, and dozens of volunteers were already combing the woods for her.

By the time anyone had come looking for me, I’d been on my own for weeks.

Forest. Dirt. Water. Blood. Threat—

My grip on Saskia’s lead tightened as the images flashed through my head. I wanted to let go of the lead, to cut Saskia free.

I needed to run.

“Beautiful animal.”

My eyes whipped toward Mackinnon Wade, who knelt next to his own K9 and held a hand out to mine.

“Careful,” I started to warn him, but Saskia considered the out-held appendage with a calm she’d never before exhibited around an adult male, let alone one of his size. Her vigilant blue eyes on his, she stepped forward to get the man’s scent.

She’s not usually this friendly. I recognized that as the benign thing to say, the normal thing to say.

“Why are you still here?” I asked instead. “Don’t you want to find Bella?”

Mac withdrew his hand from Saskia and ran it over his own K9’s head and down the back of her neck. “I want that little girl found,” he said quietly. “But I pray to God that I’m not the one to find her.”

I heard something in his voice that Jude probably wouldn’t have recognized, or even heard. But part of me would never leave the forest. Part of me would always be wild and half-dying in that ravine.

“You never offered your dog the scent,” I noted, my voice as soft as his. There was only one type of search dog that wouldn’t need Bella’s scent. The kind of dog that wasn’t trained to search for Bella.

The kind that was trained to search for Bella’s body.

Chapter 10

“She’s a cadaver dog?” I asked, my gaze on Mac’s K9 partner.

“We work mostly overseas.” Mac took his time with his reply. “Disaster relief.”