Tracking the Missing
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Sami A. Abrams
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16,5K
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14
ONE
Dried leaves crunched to Victoria Campbell’s left, sending a shiver slithering up her spine. She jerked her head toward the noise. What critter had her in its sights? Did it have four legs or two? She hated the woods. More than that, she hated the unknown in the depths of Indiana’s Wildfire State Forest—or any forest for that matter. Her deceased husband had owned the hiking and camping gig. He’d loved the outdoors and had passed that passion on to their son. So here she was, in the middle of nowhere, ready to jump out of her skin at any strange sound because she loved the teen.
The fire crackled in front of her. Sparks popped, and the flames danced and snaked into the night, chasing away the crisp fall air. The weatherman claimed lows in the midforties at night. Not the normal freezing temperatures Indiana was known for during this time of year. That’s why she went ahead and planned a backpacking trip with her son and his friends. One last outing before winter hit.
The log she leaned against while sitting on the forest ground dug into her back. The discomfort mimicked her life—tolerating trials and adversity.
Never in her wildest imagination had she thought she’d be a widow at thirty-two with a sixteen-year-old brother-in-law whom she’d raised as her own since she married at eighteen. But here she was killing it—kind of—mostly—not really. She loved nature...from the deck of a mountain cabin. The changing color of the leaves and cool air had a calming effect. But traipsing through Wildfire State Forest with three teenage boys in the middle of fall—not so much. At least the temperatures wouldn’t kill her. She hoped.
“Momma T, thanks for bringing us.” Joey, her son/brother-in-law, leaned in and touched her shoulder with his.
She reeled in her runaway thoughts. Her heart filled with love at Joey’s name for her. As far as she was concerned, he was her son, and she’d always treated him as such. Raising him since he was two gave her that right. She plastered a smile on her face and refused to show him anything but pleasure. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
Joey’s friends Kurt and Andrew snorted.
“Hey.” Tori picked up a twig and chucked it at the two clowns. Although, they weren’t wrong.
Andrew ducked and laughed. “Seriously, Mrs. C. Thanks for bringing us.”
“Yeah, Mrs. C. Thanks,” Kurt chimed in.
“You’re welcome, guys. I’m happy to do it.” And she was. Her husband, Ryan, had died six years ago, and Joey missed his brother, the man who’d taken over the role of father, something fierce. When Joey had sunk into a deep depression a few months ago, the backpacking trip had been her way of jolting him out of his despair. The teen adored hiking—a gift from Ryan.
The fire started to die down, and the wildlife symphony grew in the background. Tori rubbed her arms. Night two of the trip and the night noises continued to make her uneasy. A twig snapped behind her. She jerked her gaze toward the sound. “What was that?”
“Probably a bear,” Joey teased.
“Not funny, J.” Tori glared at her son.
“Or a cougar,” Andrew added to her son’s torment.
Ugh, these boys would be the death of her yet.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. C. It’s only a raccoon or deer.” Kurt came to her rescue. All three teens were good kids, but Kurt had the softest heart out of the trio.
She hoped he was right. “Since it’s late, and we have a long day ahead of us if we plan to make it to the scenic point of the lake tomorrow, I suggest we get some sleep.”
“Sure.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
The boys agreed a little too easily.
“Uh-huh.” She shook her head, knowing they’d be up for hours after she went to sleep. “Help me store the food. I expect you to put out the fire when you finally decide to call it a night.”
The group worked together, and within minutes the campsite appeared clutter-free from critters looking for munchies. “Don’t forget to take care of the fire.”
“I know, Momma T. I’ve done this a thousand times with Papa Ryan.”
Maybe not a thousand, but she’d admit Joey’s experience outweighed hers. “I’ll see you three in the morning.”
The teens bid her good-night.
After removing her boots and crawling into her tent, she zipped it closed. Her body ached from the hike, and sleeping on a small thin mat did nothing to help the matter, but the light in Joey’s eyes was worth it. Snuggled deep in her sleeping bag, she drifted off to the quiet whispers and soft snickers of the boys in her care.
Tori jolted awake. She sat upright and tilted her head, listening for what had roused her. A bear, or a cougar. Wait. Did Indiana have bears? Yeah, she had no idea.
Feet scuffled, followed by a crash. But it was the muffled cry that had her rushing from her tent.
The flap flew open. She bolted outside and came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes adjusted to the moonlit area. Three one-person tents lay in shambles. The contents of the backpacks were scattered on the ground. The body of one of the teens lay slumped over the log they’d used to sit on by the fire, while the other two lay sprawled on the ground. All moaning in pain.
A scream formed in her throat, but she stuffed it down. Forcing away the urge to run to them, she whipped around and rushed toward her tent to retrieve the Smith & Wesson from her pack. She had to help her boys, but not without a way to protect them.
Hands grabbed the back of her flannel shirt and flung her to the ground. She scrambled on all fours to escape and pushed to her sock feet.
A man spun her, wrapped his fingers around her throat and lifted her. In the dark, with the moonlight filtering through the trees and a ski mask covering his face, all she saw was the white of his eyes. “I’ll be back for you after I take care of those boys. Don’t go anywhere.” Hot breath brushed her cheek. A second later, he tossed her against a tree.
Her shoulder collided with the rough exterior, and her head slammed into the trunk. She slid to the forest floor and toppled over. The veil of darkness hovered above. She fought against the abyss that threatened to take her under. Her eyes closed of their own accord. Feet shuffled and low voices poked at her half-conscious state, but she was unable to clear her muddled brain.
Blood dripped down the back of her neck. She blinked, but the haze refused to dissipate. She struggled with what to do. Her maternal instinct shouted at her to go to her boys, but in her condition, she’d never be able to protect them. She had to hide before the man returned so she could get help. If the man abducted her... No, she refused to let that happen. Joey and his friends needed her. They had to be okay. What would she do without Joey, her son in all the important ways? Her only connection left to Ryan.
A gunshot rang out in the night.
She jolted, sending bright white streaks flashing behind her eyelids. “Joey.” She squinted, searching the campsite. The boys were nowhere in sight. Maybe more time had passed than she thought. They were there a minute ago. Weren’t they? Had the masked man shot one of them? Her head pounded, reminding her of the man’s threat to return for her.
Tori pushed to her feet. The trees spun around her. She shot out a hand to grab hold of anything to keep her upright but missed. She fell. Her hip took the brunt of her stumble. Blood whooshed in her ears. On her stomach, lying across the dirt and leaf-covered ground, she army crawled toward her tent. Pine needles stabbed her arms and legs, and small rocks dug into her knees and elbows. The pain—minor compared to the throbbing in her head. Nausea roiled in her belly. She swallowed back the bile threatening to come up. She had to hide before the man came back for her. She needed to get help for herself, along with Joey and the boys. Her phone—her only lifeline—she had to reach it and take it with her. She hoped it had a strong enough signal. It was iffy out in the woods, but what choice did she have?
The nylon material of the tent flap curled in her fingers, but the short distance had zapped her energy. She laid her head on her arm and took several deep breaths. Her eyelids lowered and she fought to keep them open. With a long exhale she shimmied her way into the opening and slipped her hand into her backpack. She retrieved her phone and stuffed it into her pocket, then clutched her weapon. If the man returned, she’d protect herself, but she hoped with everything in her she could escape and call for help. Reversing course, she dragged herself to the edge of the campsite. Once at the tree line, she hefted herself up against a trunk. On unsteady feet, she stumbled deeper into the forest.
Terrified the man who attacked her would find her, she burrowed deep under a thick brush. And if she hadn’t given up on talking to God, she’d pray that the hole she’d crawled into wasn’t the home of some critter who would want it back. Gun in her lap, she laid her head against a fallen log and closed her eyes. She’d make the call for help once her nausea subsided and she could raise her head without puking.
Clothes torn and nerves as tight as piano wires, every noise, every movement outside her hiding spot had her body tensing, making her head worse. As the minutes passed, fatigue set in. The exhaustion, along with the throbbing inside her skull, had her giving in to the darkness, letting it pull her into sweet oblivion.
The sun warmed her, chasing away the shivers that had racked her body during the night, but she fought against the morning light. She didn’t want to move. She only wanted sleep. Allowing herself to drift, she jerked awake. The bright stream of light flashed in her eyes. She slammed them shut. The bass drum pounding against her skull intensified.
With a little more care, she pried her eyes open. Peeking through the slits she took inventory of her surroundings. The morning rays filtered through the branches. Flashes of the night’s events came rushing back. But the biggest one stuck. The boys. She had to find her boys. Her breath caught in her throat. She needed help. Would 911 work out here?
Tears further blurred her vision. The desire to curl into a ball and sob overwhelmed her. Tired didn’t begin to describe her state of mind. The past six years had taken its toll. Ryan, why did you leave me? I’m tired of being strong. Joey is missing, and I don’t know what to do. Her deceased husband’s words from a night years ago filled her mind. If anything ever happens to me and you need help, call Michael Lane. He’ll be there for you. And Michael had. All the guys from Ryan’s unit had come to lend a hand. At first, Ryan’s traumatic brain injury changed his personality, then several months later a brain aneurysm took his life. Now, six years later, most of the men had drifted off into their own lives, only checking in occasionally—everyone except Michael.
Birds chirped from the colorful limbs above, pulling her further from her fuzzy state. Fingers to the back of her head, a sticky substance registered. A quick glance at the blood had her searching her memory for how she’d gotten the cut. The black hole in her mind gave way to no recollection other than hitting the back of her head on the tree and discovering the boys gone. Shaking off the confusion, she placed her gun on the ground beside her and dug into her pocket to retrieve her phone. She tugged a couple of times before she was able to retract the device. She wrapped her hand around her only way to contact the outside world.
Oh, please let there be service out here.
She tapped on speed dial number two and lifted it to her ear. The stuttered ringing almost made her cry with relief. “Come on, please connect.”
“Hello.”
“Michael.” Her voice cracked.
“Tori, is—at—oo?” His broken words gave her hope.
“I need help. I’m hurt, and Joey’s missing.”
“Hurt? Where—you? Do—amb-ance? Did—911?”
“I’m somewhere off Broken Arrow Trail.” Silence met her response. She’d pieced together his side of the conversation but had no idea if he understood what she’d said. “Hello? Michael?” The phone went dead. She placed a hand over her face. Why hadn’t she tried 911 first? She punched in the numbers, but the phone didn’t connect.
Her hand dropped to her side. The phone rested next to her leg. Had Michael gotten enough from the call to find her location? What if he hadn’t?
A laugh bubbled out. Why would she expect life to be easy? It never had been. She’d lost her parents at an early age and lived with her grandparents, who loved her but didn’t have the energy for a child. Then she’d married young and raised a toddler alone while her husband deployed. And, poof, what had seemed overnight, she was a widow with a teenager. She sighed. That’s how her life rolled—one hardship after another.
Without the energy to move, she closed her eyes. Tears trailed down her cheeks at the unfairness of it all. Her only hope was that Michael found her before whoever destroyed the camp and threatened her returned.
“Tori? Tori!” Dead air met Michael Lane’s ear. He sat on his couch and resisted the urge to chuck the phone against the living room wall. He’d failed Tori over the last year during his recovery from his near-death experience. The boat explosion during one of his DEA investigations had left him with PTSD and an inner ear problem that snuck up on him at the most inopportune times. Plus, the collection of wounds on his body had wreaked havoc with his physical abilities. The physical therapy he’d endured had been brutal.
Wrapped in his own pain from his injuries and the devastating loss of his career, he hadn’t visited her at home much. Although, he’d taken her and Joey out to eat a couple of times, and they’d spent a Saturday supporting his buddy Roger Howe with a community day at the man’s dog training center. The online local newspaper had written a great article about the search and rescue service Roger provided, along with multiple pictures of the event. He and Tori hadn’t escaped the photographer that day. Their picture had ended up as part of the training center highlights in the write-up.
Ducky, his golden retriever air-scent dog with extra special talents, nosed his arm and whined. Michael ran his fingers through Ducky’s fur and stared at the beige-colored walls. The dog had an uncanny sense of when Michael needed help. Whether to ground him in the moment or stabilize him when his inner ear went haywire. Ducky had been a blessing from the moment the pair met.
“Ducky, my man. Tori needs us.”
The dog’s head tilted, and his eyebrow equivalent arched.
“Come on. Let’s pack and call Roger.” Dialing his Army buddy’s number, Michael strode to his closet. He collected his hiking gear and Ducky’s supplies as the phone rang.
“Yo, Lane. What’s up?” Roger’s normal cheerful tone filled the line. His friend had found the love of his life during his Army days and now had the sweetest six-year-old little girl, Darby. Along with a thriving dog training center. In many ways, Michael envied the man, but after his accident, he didn’t have much to offer a woman. Who would want a man with physical problems and no job, who had never been quite enough for those in his life?
“I’m heading out with Ducky.”
A belly laugh filled Michael’s ears. “I can’t believe you let Darby name that dog.”
A smile curved on Michael’s lips. “As if I can say no to my honorary niece.”
“True. She is special.” Roger’s voice turned serious. “I haven’t received a search and rescue request from the county. What’s going on?”
“Tori called. I didn’t catch the full conversation. The call kept breaking up. But she’s somewhere on Broken Arrow Trail and something’s wrong.”
“Do you need an extra team? Toby and I are available.” Toby, Roger’s German shepherd tracking dog, and Roger were one of the best teams around.
“Let me get a feel for the situation first. I don’t want to embarrass her if it’s a minor issue like a sprained ankle. You know how independent she is. She mentioned Joey, but I have no idea what she said. The connection was awful.” Michael added protein bars and several just-add-water entrée packages to his bag, along with multiple water bottles.
“I’m surprised she got any service on that trail.”
“You and me both, brother.” He closed his backpack and double-checked that his sleeping bag was secure. He brought it more for safety’s sake then for sleeping under the stars.
“What are your plans as far as a scent for Ducky to follow? I suppose you could run by her house.”
“I’d prefer not to take the extra time in case something is seriously wrong. I’m making an educated guess that she parked her car at the trailhead. I’ll Slim Jim it and pray she left a sweatshirt or something in her vehicle. Otherwise, it’ll be a lengthy search.”
“Sounds like a plan. At least the weather isn’t a concern. It’s not supposed to get below freezing for several days. It won’t be warm at night, but it won’t kill either. Even so, I hope you find her fast. Keep me posted. You know the guys will drop everything to come help her. It’s the least we can do.” Roger’s words struck him in the heart like a dagger.
Ryan’s sacrifice had saved the unit. Most of the men had suffered minor injuries. All but Ryan. He’d paid dearly with a traumatic brain injury that had changed him and ultimately killed him. Tori deserved a medal for sticking by Ryan’s side. His buddy’s personality had changed, and he’d become more aggressive with certain triggers. Michael owed it to Ryan to watch over her. Besides, he’d promised his friend. Michael had dropped the proverbial ball after the explosion. That neglect ended now.
“Copy that.” Michael adjusted Ducky’s harness then added supplies to the saddlebags that he’d attach to the dog’s vest when they arrived on scene. Once certain he had everything they’d need, he shoved the leash into one of the many pockets of his cargo pants. “Ducky and I are out of here. I’ll call when I find her car.”
“I’ll be waiting. If you don’t find what you need, let me know, and I’ll run to her house.” With that, Roger hung up.
“Come on, Ducky. Let’s go find Tori.”
The dog’s tail wagged hard enough to knock himself off balance. Michael could’ve sworn the dog smiled.
He opened the back door. Ducky torpedoed outside, sniffed at the path to the truck and sat next to the driver’s side door. The furball tilted his head as if to ask what was taking so long.
House locked and secure, Michael strode down the gravel path to the vehicle, stored his gear and boosted Ducky into the back seat. The dingbat dog would jump onto the bed but refused to get into the truck without help. The little diva. Michael shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all and slipped behind the wheel. He put the truck in reverse then turned and aimed the vehicle down the lane and out of his property.
He appreciated the open land around his home. It helped with his panic attacks when the memories hit hard. Many nights he sat out on his porch and looked at the stars. The view gave him a sense of peace when the events of the past got too hard.
Thirty minutes later, he pulled into the trailhead parking area. The lot sported only one vehicle—Tori’s SUV. He peered out the front windshield. The leaves on the trees had turned colors. The gold, red and orange made the forest appear like it was on fire. A sight that never got old.
He glanced over his shoulder to the back seat. “Stay here, buddy. I’ll be right back.” Michael grabbed the Slim Jim tool off the passenger seat and slipped from the truck. He popped in his earbud and dialed Roger.
“You find it?”
“Hello to you too. And yes. It’s where I guessed it would be.” He slid the tool down the window inside the rubber seal and maneuvered it to pop the lock. “Success.”
“Anything?”
“Hold on, would ya? I just got it unlocked. Give me a minute.” Michael shook his head, but he understood Roger’s urgency. He ducked into the back seat and scanned the interior. “Pay dirt. I found a sweater.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. That woman doesn’t go anywhere without one.”
“She says she gets cold inside stores and restaurants.” He recalled several dinners with the guys where she’d donned a sweater after ordering her meal.
“Tiffany’s the same way. Must be a girl thing.” The softness that laced Roger’s voice at the mention of his wife hadn’t gone unnoticed.
What would it be like to have that kind of love? He shook off the thought. Been there, tried that and got his heart stomped on. He placed Tori’s sweater in one of the bags he’d brought with him. “Time to go get her.”
“You have your SAT phone, right?”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad. I have my satellite phone.”
“Ha ha. Very funny. Call when you can. If I don’t hear from you in the next twelve hours, I’m sending out a team.”
“Got it.”
“Be safe.”
“Will do.” Michael disconnected and stored his earbuds. He strode to his truck and opened the door. “It’s time to go to work, Ducky.”
The dog jumped from the vehicle, sat and gave a quick bark.
“Yeah, I know, you’re ready.” A smile tugged on Michael’s lips.
Ducky’s pink tongue dangled from the side of his mouth as he panted. In the nine months Michael had had the dog, he couldn’t remember a time when the creature hadn’t looked like he was smiling. Except for maybe when the dog tried to dupe him into a second dinner and Michael told him no. Every time Ducky gave him those sad eyes, he almost gave in.
He slid the backpack onto his back and clipped Ducky’s saddlebags onto the dog’s harness. “All right, Duck my man, time to find Tori.”
The golden retriever sat, full attention on him.
Michael opened the bag and gave the dog the command to get the scent. “Check.”
Ducky sniffed the contents of the bag. Michael pulled the sack away and closed it. After securing it in the largest pocket of his tactical pants, he sucked in a deep breath and looked into his dog’s dark eyes. “Find.”
Nose in the air and tail wagging, Ducky circled Tori’s SUV then shot off toward the trail.
Michael jogged behind him, letting the dog do his thing. The area Tori had hiked concerned him. He knew from his days with the DEA that drug runners had a trail snaking through these woods. He might have to loop in his ex-DEA partner, Melissa Jones or MJ for short.
A mile later, Ducky exited the dirt path and circled back. Michael’s inner ear chose that moment to go wonky. He stumbled. Ducky loped to his side and pressed against his leg, stabilizing him. “Thanks, boy.” Michael placed his hand on the dog’s head. He prayed the topsy-turvy motion stopped soon. He didn’t have time to baby his inner ear.
Ever since Michael agreed to be part of Roger Howe’s search and rescue program and accepted Ducky as his, the dog had assisted him with the residual effects from the explosion—vertigo due to his inner ear and PTSD—neither of which he cared to publicly admit continued to affect him. Except for the medical team that treated him and his ex-supervisor, no one knew the extent of his struggles. Roger and MJ had their suspicions but had yet to confront Michael.
“I think I’m good now.” He patted Ducky’s head.
The dog smiled up at him.
“You’re pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you.” Ducky’s tongue lolled to the side. Michael retrieved a water bottle from his pack, offered his dog some in a collapsible bowl then drank some of the water. Ducky hadn’t mastered drinking from a squeeze bottle yet. A skill they still worked on. Certain that he’d taken care of Ducky’s needs, he stowed the items. “Come on, you big nut, back to work.”
Ducky plopped down on his rear, ready for the next command.
“Find.”
The dog sniffed the air and hurried forward down the path.
Michael jogged after the golden with an extra dose of caution, not wanting to trigger his vertigo again.
Sweat poured between his shoulder blades into a stream down his back. The fall temperatures hadn’t hit the sixties, but the excursion mixed with the humidity made for a toasty search. Michael swiped his forehead before the salty droplets managed to sting his eyes.
He checked his watch. Four hours had passed since he’d heard from Tori. And unless she had hiked deeper into the forest than he suspected, they should be coming upon the campsite soon. Especially with his dog taking a straight line to her scent.
Ducky lifted his nose higher in the air. The black tip of his snout twitched, and he took off running.
Please, let him have found Tori.
Picking up his pace, he rounded the curve and came to a halt. Where did that silly dog go? Ducky yipped. Michael turned to his right and stooped under a branch. The sight before him almost took him to his knees. Tucked inside a burrow, Ducky sat next to the hole and nudged Tori’s hand with his nose. Head leaning against the tree, Tori remained motionless. Her phone rested on the ground next to her thigh, and her weapon lay in her lap. He peeled his gaze from her and took in the surroundings. Blood drops spotted the ground. Her blood. He examined her current state. Scratches littered her arms and legs that were exposed through tears in the fabric of her shirt and pants. But her face had him sucking in a harsh breath. Several scrapes and bruises dotted her cheeks and forehead. Her red hair hung limp and tangled at her neck.
“Tori.” He strode to her hiding place. When she didn’t respond, he cleared away a section of brush and crouched next to her. He jostled her arm. “Wake up, Tori.”
Ducky whimpered his concern. The dog army crawled into the brush and nestled in beside her.
“I know, boy.” Michael clasped her fingers and rubbed small circles on the back of her hand, careful not to irritate any wounds. “Tori. I need to see those blue eyes of yours.”
Her eyelids fluttered.
“That’s it.” His pulse rate settled a bit.
Her eyes opened. It took her a few moments to focus. “Michael?”
“Yes, Red. I’m here.” He took his first deep breath since he found her.
“Haven’t called me that in a long time.” Tori’s breathy words worried him.
“I’ll have to remedy that.” He held the inside of her wrist and took her pulse.
She nodded and winced.
Between her speech and the response to moving her head, Michael’s concern rose several notches. “I’m assuming you hit your head. I’m going to check it out. Is that okay with you?”
“You’re loaning me your dog.” Her hands moved in a steady rhythm over Ducky’s fur.
He chuckled. “Yes, Red. Ducky is all yours for the moment.”
“Thanks.”
“Can you answer my question? I’d like to look at your injuries?”
“S—okay.” She shivered under his touch.
He retrieved her sweater from his pocket and draped it over her. “All right, then, hold still.” As gently as possible, he examined her arms and knees through her ripped shirt and jeans. He’d do a more thorough assessment later. “Lean forward a bit.”
She complied and dipped her chin to her chest.
He ran a hand over the back of her head.
She hissed at his touch.
When he found a large goose egg along with a sticky mat of hair, he narrowed his gaze. The gash on her head that had bled and dried answered a few of his questions. But not the main one. How had she hit her head?
“Tori, what happened to you? And where is Joey?”
She licked her dried lips. “Something attacked me. J and boys...gone.”
“Boys?”
“Joey and two friends.”
Great. Three missing teens. Michael inhaled. No time to think about that now. Tori came first. She might have more information once she could think straight. And that right there, her foggy thoughts, worried him. The injuries to Tori didn’t appear extreme. His experience told him that she had a concussion, but it shouldn’t be severe. Michael smacked his palm to his forehead. He should hand over his first responder card.
“Hold on, Red.” He dug through his backpack, found a fresh water bottle and mixed a packet of powder containing electrolytes into it. “Here. Drink this.” Where had his brain gone? The woman had spent the night and all morning with a head injury, and if her dry lips were any indication, without food or water.
Bottle placed to her mouth, he tipped the container, allowing the cool liquid to quench her parched throat.
She pushed the water away. “Thank you.”
After placing the container next to her leg, he pulled a protein bar from the front pocket of his pack. “Nibble on this, but go slow.”
Without argument, she took a small bite and chewed. She fumbled with the water bottle and drank a little more.
He struggled not to help her. He’d always thought she was too independent for her own good, but he figured she’d ask for assistance if she required it.
Several minutes later, Michael assessed Tori’s condition again. Her eyes seemed a bit brighter. It was amazing how quickly dehydration could set in, and how it affected people. “While we let the food and drink settle to give you energy, tell me what happened.”
“We went camping.” Her hand holding the remainder of her protein bar halted halfway to her mouth. She blinked. “Well, that’s obvious. Sorry. I’m still on the slow loop.”
“No worries, Red. Take your time.”
She continued to stroke Ducky’s head and back. That dog was a ball of comfort wrapped in silliness when off duty.
“I brought Joey and two friends camping. He’s been a little down lately.” She sighed. “Who am I kidding? A lot down. I thought coming out in nature might help.” Her eyes drifted to the sky.
He placed a hand on her arm. The kid must have hit a low spot if Tori decided to go camping. The woman wasn’t the outdoorsy type. “Did it help?”
She brought her focus back to him. “It seemed to. We started our camping trip a couple of days ago, and during that short time, I’ve seen the old Joey surface. Then last night a noise woke me. When I exited my tent, I found the site a mess and the boys laying hurt.” She sucked in a breath.
“What happened next?”
“Someone or something grabbed me and tossed me against the tree.” Her free hand smoothed over the goose egg on the back of her head then drifted to her throat. Red marks marred her fair skin. How had he missed that? “That’s how I got the knot on my head. I knew I had to get help, but I don’t remember anything else. I woke up tucked in the brush with the boys nowhere in sight. That’s when I called you.”
“Did you call 911?”
Her brow furrowed as she stared at Ducky. “No. I don’t think I did.”
“Why not call them first?”
Her eyes met his. “Because I knew you’d come to my rescue.”
He jerked like someone slapped him. Coming from a woman who stood strong and refused to lean on anyone or ask for help, her statement filled a few cracks in his battered heart. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“I hate bothering you, but I’m worried about Joey and his friends.” She sat straighter. “We have to find them.”
“We will. I promise.” Michael patted her forearm. “How about we find your campsite and see if there are any signs of the boys.” After she finished her snack and water, he collected the trash and stuffed it in his backpack.
She accepted his offered hand and stood. He maintained his grip while she gained her balance. “I’m good, thanks.”
He studied her and then nodded. She tucked her cell phone in her pants pocket.
“Since you don’t have a holster, I’ll store your weapon in my pack.” He took her silence as an agreement. Probably not the best idea to step on her independence, but he’d apologize later.
The creases in Tori’s brow deepened. “I’m not sure how to get back.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll find it.” He motioned for her to follow and called Ducky. “Come.”
Ducky trotted to his left side, but the little traitor stayed within inches of Tori’s leg. Michael smiled. The dog knew who needed him the most right now.
Michael continued to pick his way through the thick foliage, shocked at the distance Tori had run in the dark last night. They’d hiked a good ten minutes already. How far had she gone? A few moments later, he ducked under a grouping of limbs. The trees opened to a small clearing. Camping equipment lay strung across the campsite. Blood drops dotted the ground. Not enough for concern, but the fact there was no sign of Joey or his friends bothered him.
Tori stepped to his side and sucked in an audible breath. “Michael?”
Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Ducky is great at his job. And Roger is a call away. He and Toby, his German shepherd, are the best tracking team around. We’ll find them. I promise.”
“But will they be alive?” Her question came out as a whisper.
“Tori, stop. You can’t think that way.”
She tensed. “Sorry. I’ll do better.”
He wanted to smack himself for making her hide her vulnerability. “That’s not what I meant. All I’m saying is don’t give up hope.”
Arms hugging her middle, her eyes pleaded with him. “What do we do now?”
“We check in with MJ.” His gaze traveled the exterior of the campsite. His past experiences told him to be wary.
“Your ex DEA partner, Melissa Jones? Why not just call 911?”
He debated whether to tell her the truth about Wildfire State Forest. But she deserved to know what they were up against. “Certain sections of this forest are known for drug runners. The DEA has had eyes and ears in these parts for quite a while. MJ would know where the traffickers are located or at least have an idea. I have no intention of putting other searchers in danger until I have more information.” He punched in MJ’s number. Even though he was no longer part of the team, he had remained good friends with MJ and her husband.
“Agent Jones.”
“Hey, MJ, it’s Michael.”
“Michael, how are you? And why are you calling from an unknown number?”
“I’m good. And it’s my SAT phone.”
“Well, I’m guessing that means you’re out in the wilderness.”
“Wildfire State Forest. A friend of mine was attacked, and three teenage boys are missing.”
“Oh, man. Where?”
“Off of Broken Arrow Trail.”
MJ released a long hiss of breath. “Don’t do a full search and rescue.”
“I figured, but do you have new information?” He glanced at Tori, who stood watching him while he continued his conversation with MJ.
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
He clenched his jaw. He hated not being a part of the team any longer. “Humor me.”
“Let’s just say the boys and I are planning a fun trip out there to meet new friends.”
He closed his eyes. A raid. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope.”
Michael rubbed his forehead in a useless attempt to relieve his building tension headache. “When?”
“In a day or two. The wheels are in motion.” The timing of her warning couldn’t have been worse.
“As a professional courtesy to you and the guys, I’m letting you know that my friend Tori and I are taking a peek around for her son and his friends.”
“Copy that. I hope you find them. But be careful. I wouldn’t want the wildlife to take a chunk out of your hide.”
“Noted. I’ll call later.”
“Do that. I’ll let my buddies know what’s going on. We might be able to help, but I can’t guarantee it.”
“I understand.” He appreciated the thought and effort MJ would put into the assist.
“Good. Gotta go.” MJ hung up.
“What did she say?” Tori ran a hand down Ducky’s back.
“Not much,” he mumbled.
“Michael. I know better. You look worried.”
“I’m not lying. She was cryptic, but I got the gist of what she tried not to say.”
“So?”
“We can’t call in a search party. They’re planning a raid soon. If we make a lot of noise, the drug runners will move locations or attack anyone who threatens their business.”
“Oh.” Tori worried her bottom lip.
“However, I do need to update Roger.”
Her shoulders sagged, and she nodded.
Michael examined the campsite while he called his friend.
“Did you find her?”
Michael shook his head at Roger’s abrupt answer. “I did. She’s okay, but things aren’t good. Joey’s missing.”
“Toby and I are on the way.”
“No. Don’t. Not yet.”
Roger hesitated before he responded. “Something I should be aware of?”
“Let’s just chalk it up to a work thing.”
“Dude, you were DEA. I don’t like the sounds of that.”
He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “As you shouldn’t.”
“What’s going on?” Roger asked.
Shoe prints covered the ground near the edge of the campsite to his right. He studied the evidence and visually followed the trail. From what he concluded, all three boys left the area on foot, telling him they’d all survived the initial attack. Beyond that was anyone’s guess.
He returned his attention to Roger. “I can’t tell you. You’ll have to trust me on that. Tori and I will do this on our own for a bit and keep a low profile. I trust Ducky’s ability. We’ll find them.” Ducky peered over at him when he heard his name, but the dog didn’t leave Tori’s side.
“I don’t like it.”
“Me either, but making a lot of noise will get people killed. I refuse to be the reason.”
Roger sighed. “Copy that. I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks, man.” Michael disconnected and focused on Tori.
Fatigue lined her features. He worried about her, but what concerned him the most was the cryptic message from MJ. His friend had left him bread crumbs to the fact that the State Forest Drug Task Force had a mission in play. He prayed the raid would take down the head of the drug business in the area, but the timing was awful and made him wonder if there was somehow a connection to the boys.
“You really think we can find them?”
“I do. I’ll find items that Ducky can work with.” The internal tug-of-war of concern for Tori’s concussion and the need to find the boys twisted his gut. Maybe he could drop her off at his friend Jackson’s cabin, but it was about an hour away. Closer than her car. But either would take time they didn’t have.
“I see that brain of yours churning.”
“I’m worried about you. You’re hurt.”
“Finding Joey and his friends is the top priority.”
Michael proceeded to scan the area for viable scent items. He collected a sweatshirt, a stocking hat and a T-shirt from the different areas of the campsite, confirmed with Tori he had an object from each boy, and placed them in individual bags for Ducky to use later. “Head injuries are nothing to mess around with. At least allow me to get you settled at a cabin not far from here—forty minutes, maybe. I’ll drop you off and start searching.”
“No. I feel better already. My head is down to a dull ache. And it’ll take more than a day for my bruises and muscles to forgive me, but I can live with the discomfort if it means finding my son. Don’t argue with me. I will be a part of the search.”
A deep growl rumbled from his chest.
“And there’s the bear you’re famous for.” She tried a smile but only had marginal success.
“Not funny, Red.”
She shoved her fists onto her hips. “You can’t deny it.”
Unfortunately, he couldn’t. The guys had nicknamed him Bear years ago. For whatever reason, any time he got frustrated he made a sound that resembled a growl. The guys howled with laughter the first time it happened. Soon after the nickname stuck.
“All right. You win. This time. But don’t get used to it. If I think your injuries are getting worse, I reserve the right to march you straight to the cabin.”
Tori folded her arms across her chest. “Fine.”
He knew that stance. His statement was anything but fine. He strode to Tori’s side and prayed the boys hadn’t become prey to the drug runners. If so, the possibility of finding any of them alive was reduced to slim to none. He shifted to face her, “Ready to start—”
Tree bark exploded between them. Splinter needles stabbed his cheek. The report of a gun echoed through the forest.
“Run!” Michael pushed her into the trees. “With me!” He yelled the command to Ducky and sprinted after Tori, his dog hot on his heels.
