2
“Charlotte hates the dress I chose for her. Says she won’t wear it,” said Rowan as she hurled Thor’s ball with her long-handled thrower. The black German shepherd tore after the yellow object, dirt and pine needles flying in his wake.
Noelle bit back a grin. Rowan and her fiancé, Evan, had been blissfully working on wedding plans for months, and she wasn’t surprised to hear that Evan’s strong-willed thirteen-year-old niece had thrown a wrench in the plans.
For the past two hours, Deschutes County detective Noelle Marshall had been hiking with Rowan and her search and rescue dog, Thor.
The two women were good friends, having met through Evan, who was a county detective with Noelle.
They were on an old Forest Service road, but road was a generous description.
It was a packed dirt track that appeared to only be navigable by people off-roading or riding dirt bikes. Or on foot.
The June day was sunny, and the blue skies reigned supreme overhead, but the densely packed, tall pines of the Central Oregon national forest kept the air cool. Noelle had grabbed a fleece half-zip to wear over her long-sleeved tee, but she still had to walk fast to stay warm in the shade.
Thor came rushing back with the ball. He met Noelle’s gaze for the briefest second but dropped the ball at Rowan’s feet and sat, 100 percent of his eager attention on his owner.
Rowan scooped up the ball with the thrower and started to raise it but stopped.
Her gaze locked with Thor’s. The dog hadn’t eagerly moved into position to chase the ball as he had before all her other throws.
Noelle watched their immobile, silent interaction.
I swear she hears him speak in her head.
“Treats later, Thor,” Rowan stated firmly, and she flung the ball.
Disappointment flashed on the dog’s face, but he bounded after the ball, a black shadow among the trees.
Noelle shoved her hands in her pockets, her fingertips chilly. “How important is it that Charlotte wear the dress you chose for her?” She knew Rowan’s twin sisters would be her other attendants. Their dresses were soft shades of sage.
“Not important at all, I guess,” admitted Rowan.
“But she sent me a photo of a bright-fuchsia one. It’s adorable—she’s always had some fashion sense—but it really doesn’t .
. .” She paused, searching for the right word.
“Blend.” Along with the sage, Rowan had chosen a soothing theme of wheat, cream, and white for the outdoor reception at a local winery, the setting rustic and calm.
“Could be an amusing memory to look back on. Something to spice up the wedding photos,” said Noelle. “Perfect weddings are dull. The stuff you remember is the funny and unusual.”
“Mm-hmm.” Rowan was no longer listening. Her gaze was on her dog, fifty yards ahead. Thor sat next to a pine, the ball beside him, his attention directed into the woods. Rowan took off fast.
“What’s he doing?” Noelle jogged to catch up with the woman. Rowan had a slight limp from a childhood injury, but it didn’t slow her down much.
“Alerting.” Her voice was grim.
“Maybe he smells a dead animal?”
“He knows better than to alert for that.”
He’s found human remains?
Rowan and Thor were a nationally known private search and rescue duo. They’d worked with many federal agencies and dozens of law enforcement departments across the US. Usually they were hired to find missing people—living missing people.
“Thor does cadaver work too?” Noelle asked.
“I didn’t train him for it,” said Rowan. “He naturally picked it up, so we’ve fine-tuned the skill.” She reached her dog and squatted beside him for a hug. “Good boy!” She pulled a rope toy out of her backpack, and they engaged in a quick game of tug-of-war as she continued her praise.
Noelle scanned the area and sniffed, focusing in the direction Thor had been staring.
Nothing.
Granted, there were dense trees and shrubs in the way, and she didn’t have Thor’s amazing sense of smell. She waited, knowing Rowan would encourage the dog to lead her to the scent once they finished his playtime reward.
Rowan tucked the toy away and gave a quick hand signal. Thor sat, his ears pointed her way. “Find it!” The dog raced into the woods but stopped within twenty yards and sat again. He looked over his shoulder at Rowan and gave a soft roo roo chattery noise.
“Shit.” Rowan looked grim.
“Definitely human?” asked Noelle.
“Definitely.”
Noelle took a hard look at the ground and shrubs in their immediate area, wondering if they were near a crime scene. “If there are remains near him, it’s best we disturb the area as little as possible, so just one of us should follow him. Would Thor show me what he’s found?”
“No,” said Rowan. “It has to be me.”
“Okay.” Noelle pulled out her phone. “I’ll film. Look before you step, and I’ll try to walk in the same spots.”
Rowan nodded and carefully moved into the denser forest. Noelle held up her phone, shooting over Rowan’s shoulder, the screen showing Thor ahead waiting for them.
She filmed the ground and surrounding areas but stopped moving her phone when she noticed a subtle depression in the ground near Thor.
It was about two feet long and a foot wide.
Rowan reached her dog and praised him again, giving many ear rubs.
“You see that?” She nodded at the depression.
“I do. Looks like something is underground,” said Noelle. A depression would form after a period of decay when the abdomen of the victim essentially deflated.
“Most likely.” Rowan paused, her forehead crinkling in thought. She gestured at Thor. “Find it!”
He lowered his nose and zigzagged for twenty steps, then sat again, his dark eyes watching her.
“Good boy.”
Noelle stared hard at the ground near the dog. If there were remains there, she didn’t see any sign.
Rowan gave the command again.
Thor did the same zigzag, moving several yards, and then sat close to a pine.
I don’t see disturbed ground there either.
Granted, there was a thick bed of dead pine needles everywhere, along with ancient dried leaves and other forest debris. The dog locked eyes with Rowan. He had been resolute every time he sat, no hesitation, no doubts.
Noelle swallowed, and a chill that wasn’t from the forest’s cool air crawled up her spine. “Rowan,” she whispered. “Is he indicating someone has been buried in several different places?”
Hacked to pieces?
“Or else we’ve got several bodies.” Rowan paused. “Maybe it’s an old burial ground?” Her tone was uncertain.
“Or it’s a killer’s dump site. I’ll call county and get some help up here.”
Our beautiful hike has taken a dark turn.