A well-trained cadaver dog could scent human remains beneath a mudslide, buried in rubble, or under running water. That was useful in criminal investigations, but also played a key role in bringing closure to the families of those killed in natural disasters.

“We find the bodies.” Mac spoke in simple sentences. “Give the ones who remain something to bury. Help them say good-bye.”

I appreciated someone who said exactly what he meant and didn’t dress the truth up with frilly and unnecessary words. “The sheriff doesn’t like you,” I commented. Without Jude here, there was no one to tell Mac that this was my version of being friendly.

“I’m a Wade,” Mac replied, unruffled. “There are a lot of people hereabouts who don’t care too much for my kind.”

I held my hand out to Mac’s dog, the way he’d held his out to mine. Saskia allowed the massive animal to delicately sniff my fingers before flashing her teeth. The mutt returned to Mac’s side.

Abruptly, Mac stood and turned toward the brush. His dog reoriented her body to match his, like they were a single unit, and I followed suit. The wind lifted my hair. The smell of the forest invaded my nostrils, damp and fresh and alive. In the distance, a K9 barked three times.

One of the dogs found something. Bittersweet hope and heavy dread battled it out in the pit of my stomach. Muscles clenching, I thought of the faded blanket in the plastic bag. I pictured a little girl in a bright red windbreaker. I let myself imagine a happy ending.

What I got was a phone call from Cady, informing me that Bella’s scent had intensified, then dead-ended—in the river.

Chapter 11

The rangers’ probable search area for Bella had been calculated assuming the little girl had been traveling on foot. The river changed things. When we found Bella—if we found her—we’d find her downstream.

We might not be looking for a little girl. We might be looking for a body. No one said those words, but Mac quietly joined the search, his dog running the riverbank, wading in and out as he followed her with surprising swiftness for a man his size.

I pray to God that I’m not the one to find her. Mac’s prayer echoed in my mind as I was given my own assignment. Saskia and I would take the west side of the river. Cady and Pad would take the east. If Bella had made it out of the water—if she’d survived—she could have ended up on either shore, and that meant the forest was fair game on both sides of the water.