Almost as abruptly as the memory had come on, it was gone. I let my fingers curl into fists to keep my hands from shaking and led Saskia away from the river. I steered her toward the mountain, pushing the boundaries of the search area I had been assigned. Men like the park rangers looked at a picture of a lost little girl and saw an innocent, a victim, someone helpless and fragile and small.

They had no idea what a child was capable of—really capable of—when the civilized world melted away and nothing but instinct remained.

On some level, I was aware of a call coming in on my radio. On some level, I was aware that darkness was falling, that I’d gone too far. But I just kept pushing. Just a little farther up the mountain. Just a little farther off the path.

I couldn’t even see Saskia. She had to be getting tired, but like me, she wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t—

“Kira.” Cady’s voice on the radio cut through the laser focus that had driven me up this path. “Are you there?”

I hesitated, just for a second, before lifting the radio to my mouth. “I’m here,” I said. “Saskia and I haven’t found anything, but we’re still looking.”

Still climbing, still running, still going.

“Give me your coordinates, and I’ll have someone meet you.” Cady had to have known that every fiber of my being would fight coming in, but she’d painstakingly taught me that there was no room for fight or flight in SAR. Instincts were good—necessary, even—but the human partner had to work within certain parameters, by certain rules.

I could give Cady my coordinates now, or I could forget about continuing the search tomorrow.

“Coordinates,” I said, my throat dry.

I will find you. That had been my silent promise to Bella. I will bring you home.

“Kira,” Cady said. “You’re cutting out.”

I wasn’t cutting out. I was stalling. A sound in the distance sliced through the mountain air. It took me a moment to realize what it was.

Three barks.

I was sure that I’d imagined it, willed it into being, heard it the way I sometimes heard or saw or felt things in a place in my mind that seemed real. My pulse pounding in my throat, I fixed my eyes on a clearing in the trees. If Saskia had found something, she’d circle back and give the signal a second time.

Find. Recall. Re-find.

A blur of white burst through the clearing. Saskia barreled toward me, and I knew, just from the way she was running, that I hadn’t imagined anything. She bounded up to me—joyful, wild, free—and barked.

Three times.

Chapter 12