Chapter Three
Creed
On Cerberus Team Charlie search and rescue missions, each team member performed a specific job.
There was the team leader who called the shots in the field, which would be Striker in this case. The leader pointed a finger and said, “Go there. Do this.”
In this case, Rou and he were on their own, with his high-tech shirt serving as a land navigation aid, freeing Creed to keep his eye on the surroundings.
This made sense for now.
If the kid had gone missing a short time ago and they had a good scent source from the mom—a shirt, a shoe—then Creed and Rou could probably overtake the kid. The winds were picking up, but not so much that they would have blown the scent cone all over kingdom come.
The part of the search team that Creed wished was on-site was the manager—the one who did the intake and asked the vital questions. And more importantly, who was able to extract the necessary information from an emotionally distraught family member.
There was no doubt in Creed’s mind that he’d found the right woman because she was wide-eyed and pale-faced, staring out toward the wood while she crushed her toddler in her arms and rocked to soothe the little one as he fought to be free of his mother’s crushing anxiety.
Creed moved forward and took a knee within her view, but not directly in front of where she was staring, so if she was holding on to a sighting, she could maintain the connection.
“Ma’am, Creed Duchamp, Cerberus Search and Rescue Team, my dog, Rougarou. I understand a child wandered off.”
The child in the mom’s arms turned his snot-covered, tear-streaked face toward him with a look that pleaded for help.
Creed gently reached out and pulled the mom’s arms to loosen them.
It seemed to bring her back into her body.
She looked down, startled to see what had happened to her kid.
“Sorry, Cabell. Mommy’s sorry, kiddo.” She sat him on the blanket and reached for a baby wipe and a juice box.
The baby wipe swiped over the kid’s face, then she flipped it to the clean side of the wipe and swiped again before she thrust the juice box in his direction.
The kid pulled the plastic straw from the side and held it out to his mom, who was back to staring into the woods and not paying attention to the child beside her.
Creed unwrapped the straw and pressed it into the hole, “Here you go.”
The mom’s chest was heaving and her hands shaking; she looked like she was about to burst into tears, and that would help no one.
Creed, after almost a decade and a half in war and explosives training, had hearing loss. If this woman were speaking through sobs, Creed simply wouldn’t be able to make out the words he needed to understand in order to act.
“Ma’am. I need your attention, so I can get after your child. Can you tell me about your child? Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Boy.”
“Good. And how old?”
“Seven.”
“Do you have a picture of him?” he asked, picking up the woman’s cell phone and handing it to her. “Maybe a picture from today, so I know what he’s wearing? Maybe one standing up?”
She swiped the phone open, held it up to her face to unlock it, flipped through the photos, and then handed the phone to Creed. “That was right when we got here.”
Creed took the phone from her and laid it on his knee, then took a picture of the picture, sending it on to Iniquus Logistics to have on record.
He pulled a field notebook from his pocket, along with an all-weather pencil, and handed it to the mom.
“Can you write down your name and this cell phone number. As soon as I locate him, I can get in touch and let you know what’s happening. ”
Her hand was shaking too hard for the writing to be legible, so Creed reached for it. “I can write it for you.”
“Ginny,” she said, then reeled out her number.
Creed took a picture of the information, sent that on, then slid the notebook back into the thigh pocket on his Iniquus gray camo tactical pants. “What’s the boy’s name, the name he would come to if I called it out?”
“Jeb.”
“Jeb,” Creed repeated. “And when did you see him last?” He handed the phone back.
She accepted it and looked at the time. “Fifteen minutes ago, I saw him going into the woods. I told him he could run around a bit, but to stay on the grass. But when I looked up, I saw him going in over there.” She pointed out toward the place she’d been staring.
“Then I shouted at the big guy with the red hair and the security uniform, and he said he’d get the dog team.
You. He got you.” The woman’s gaze bore into him almost accusatorily as if wondering why he was over here lollygagging around.
“Yes, ma’am, two more things, and I’ll be out looking for Jeb. From the picture, I couldn’t see what kind of shoes he was wearing. If you could remember that, it would be helpful, and if you had something he was wearing for a while, I can give that to Rou so she can help me track him down.”
“You’re it? There’s not a whole team?”
“We’re going to see what Rou and I can come up with.” He pulled a bag from the side pocket of Rou’s vest. “If it looks like we need to get more people involved, I’ll call it in, and they’ll gather the State emergency services to mount a full search.”
“Jeb’s wearing tennis shoes. They have paw prints on the bottoms.” The mom opened her backpack and began digging through it. After a moment, she pulled out a dirty sock and spread it on her thigh.
Creed thought she was checking the size to make sure she got the right child’s scent, then held it out to Creed, who opened the bag for her to drop it in. “Does Jeb have any disabilities? Is he on any medications? Is there anything I need to know about in advance?”
“No.” Her breathing started to hitch, and Creed needed her to hold off just a bit more.
Creed put his hand on hers to keep her focused on the exchange of information, rather than her feelings. Her feelings had a place, just not now. “When I call Jeb, what was he taught? Will he hide from a stranger?”
That seemed to startle the mother. She looked down at the ground and stared hard.
“Is there a family code? A word that you use to tell Jeb that this is a safe person that his parents sent?”
“Yes.” She blinked back the tears and shifted to stare at the sky.
Creed took a chance to look up too. The storm wasn’t supposed to be here until after fifteen hundred hours. Everyone should be good and gone by then. He brought his gaze back to hers, so she would look at him.
“Yo-ho-ho,” she whispered.
“Yo-ho-ho?” Creed asked.
“No, well, ‘Yo-ho-ho, Jeb. There you are, matey. I have a message from your mum, I do.’” Her voice warbled as she put on a pirate's accent.
Creed pulled out his phone. “I’m recording. Say it to Jeb and tell him what you want him to do. When I find him, I can play the video for him. I want him to feel safe.”
Creed watched the mother’s face being molded into calm as if by hands on clay; the terror lifted from her eyes.
She pulled in a breath, then tapped the red record dot.
“Jebadiah, I saw you wander into the woods, and I couldn’t chase after you.
I found this good guy to go get you. He has his dog with him.
When you see this, you should know,” her voice took on the same pirating lilt as earlier.
“Yo-ho-ho, Jeb. There you are, matey. Follow the man back to your mum and Cabell.” After she finished talking, she tapped the button and pressed the phone back toward Creed. The desperation was back in her eyes.
That effort looked like it had physically cost her.
“Nothing else I need to know?” Creed asked gently. “Anything that will be an issue out there?” he verified.
“He’s naughty by nature—impulsive. But that’s evident, right?”
Creed bladed his hand and pointed to a dark space between two tall trees where she’d been staring.
“Yes, right through there,” she whispered.
“But he started off by speaking with you here on this blanket?”
“Yes,” she whispered and reached for Cabell, pulling the toddler back into her arms.
A tree was a tree was a tree. In the woods—or in this case, looking at the woods—someone can get turned around. If Creed started Rou at that gap in the trees and it was the wrong one, they could lose precious time outside of the scent cone.
Creed stood and made a call to Iniquus Logistics to apprise them of his search task.
“Copy, Creed, we have you and Rou up on the board. We’re tracking your progress.”
Creed programmed his shirt to track Rou’s GPS collar, then pulled on his wrap-around clear plastic glasses to protect his eyes from the foliage and his leather gloves to deal with briars.
Rou knew exactly what it meant when Creed dressed out like that, and her tail got to thumping.
Creed walked Rou a few steps from the blanket, putting her in a sit-stay in front of him. “Rourou, we’re going on a search.” He bent and removed her leash.
Rou’s tail thumped faster, her mouth opened, and her pink tongue hung out; her eyes were bright with anticipation.
Holding the evidence bag with the child’s sock under Rou’s nose, Creed commanded, “Rougarou, scent. Scent.”
Rou ducked her chin, thrusting her nose into the bag where she chuffed, pulling the scent into her olfactory system. Once she was locked in and memorized the scent, her head popped back out, and she focused on Creed.
“Rougarou, search.” Creed folded the top of the bag and moved it to the cargo pocket on his left thigh to pull out if Rou needed a refresher.
Rou’s nose went up in the air, her nostrils working, then she tipped her nose down to skirt the ground.
She circled the family’s picnic blanket then took off running, nose hovering just above the grass, so close that Creed thought she could trip over her velvety ears.
She ran this way and that, making big circles and small ones.