Chapter 8
Dungar
The mother’s frantic eyes darted between Riley and me as panic etched deeper lines into her face. “Marcy?” Standing on her toes, she peered around. “She was just here. Just right here.”
“We’ll find her,” I said, automatically reaching for my phone where I kept my emergency protocols. I’d prepared for any and every possible scenario and crisis, because preparation meant survival. It meant children returned safely to their parents.
Ruugar jogged over to us, his face full of concern. “Trouble?”
“Missing child.” I quickly located my Missing Persons/Child protocol file on my phone and thumbed it open. I angled the screen so Riley could see the detailed checklist I’d created. “Female, six years old, blue dress and bonnet, brown braided hair.”
“The tour guide mentioned silverwhips in the tall grass.” The mother’s voice rose toward hysteria. “Are they dangerous? Could they hurt her?”
Silverwhips were venomous, though rarely fatal to humans.
But a six-year-old wandering alone was vulnerable to far more mundane dangers, including falling, exposure to the dropping mountain temperatures after dark, and disorientation.
Night would fall within hours, and hypothermia was a real risk at our elevation.
Riley placed a gentle hand on the woman’s trembling arm. “What’s your name?”
“Lauren. Lauren Phillips.”
“We’re going to find her.” Riley’s voice remained steady and calm. “I need you to take a deep breath for me. Silverwhips avoid humans whenever possible, and they’re mostly nocturnal. Right now, we need to focus on finding Marcy quickly.”
She’d taken point on task three from my protocol—stabilize the reporting party—without instruction, handling it perfectly while I focused on mobilizing resources.
The seamless way she’d stepped into her role made my heart flip over despite the seriousness of the situation.
We were working as a unified team already.
“Did Marcy mention wanting to see anything specific?” Riley asked, guiding Lauren to a nearby bench to sit. “Any favorite animals or attractions?”
“She loves the luminooks. She can’t stop talking about their glowing spines.”
“That’s helpful. Children often go where they’re interested.
” Her gaze met mine, and Ruugar was gone before I could speak, rounding the paddock and the barn behind, where the rest of the luminooks were kept in pens.
They’d be released to the wild once they’d been fully acclimated to the environment.
He returned quickly, giving me a subtle shake of his head.
Damn. I’d hoped he’d find her with the others.
Tourists had begun gathering, their curious expressions turning to concern as they realized a child was missing. I needed to establish order before everyone panicked.
“We’ll organize search parties immediately,” I said.
Riley looked up at me over the growing crowd, her eyes meeting mine in a moment of perfect understanding. No words needed to pass between us. She would manage the mother and coordinate the volunteer searchers gathering around us while I mobilized my brothers for a wider search.
Something had clicked into place between us. I didn’t know what had brought Riley Smith to Lonesome Creek or what secrets she carried, but we were perfectly aligned.
I’d known her for less than two days, yet somehow, I trusted her with this crisis as completely as I trusted my brothers.
“I’ll set up our headquarters at the jail,” I said, already punching in the alert code that would summon my brothers. “We’ll find her, Lauren. I promise.”
Ten minutes later, the sheriff’s office had been transformed into a command center.
My laminated maps of Lonesome Creek and the surrounding wilderness covered the desk, each sectioned into precisely measured grid squares.
My brothers had responded immediately, closing up businesses or leaving them in capable hands to join the search.
“It’s getting dark,” I said, marking off the areas already covered, including the luminook enclosures, the surrounding pastures, and the main street buildings. “The temperature will drop at least fifteen degrees within the next two hours.”
Tark nodded grimly. “Cold night for a little one.”
“Ruugar, take the eastern section.” I highlighted the area on the map.
“That includes the prairie and the creek bed. Sel and Hail, the northern forest edge. Becken, the western ridge and lookout point. Tark, coordinate with the stable hands to check all outbuildings, storage sheds, and maintenance areas.”
Each brother acknowledged their assignment with a firm nod. This was why we’d survived as a family. When crisis struck, we moved as a single unit.
“I’ve alerted Aunt Inla,” Greel said. “She’s preparing the saloon as a gathering place for searchers. Hot food, drinks, emergency supplies. Lavon’s helping.”
I grunted, grateful for her practical nature. “We’ll need it if this extends into the night.”
I moved automatically, activating our emergency radio network and distributing handsets to each brother. “Standard check-in protocol. Ten-minute intervals. Channel three for emergencies only.”
While I coordinated the professional search teams, Riley had taken over managing the civilian volunteers.
Her approach differed from mine and was less rigid, but it was equally effective.
She’d quickly assessed which tourists had outdoor experience and paired them with locals who knew the general terrain.
Her analytical mind had created a tracking system using colored pins on a separate map to visualize searched areas.
“Team four has experience with wilderness rescue.” She pointed to a group of middle-aged men dressed in hiking gear. “I’ve assigned them to the creek bed. Team two includes a nurse and a former scout leader. They’re taking the playground and surrounding areas.”
The search parties lined up to receive their assignments, maps, and emergency supplies, which included whistles, flashlights, and water bottles, all organized in numbered backpacks I’d prepared months ago, hoping never to use them.
This was only Riley’s second day on the job, yet she handled the crisis as if she’d been preparing for it her entire life.
As the last team received their instructions, Riley approached my desk, her eyes shadowed with concern. “All volunteer teams are deployed according to capability and terrain familiarity. I’ve established a reporting system through phone lines, with all information funneling back to us.”
“Perfect.” I squeezed her shoulder. “You’ve been amazing.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “I’ve had…experience with crisis management.”
There it was again, that hint of a past she may not be willing to share. But now wasn’t the time to pursue it.
“Let’s join the search.” I pocketed my radio and grabbed my emergency pack. “We’ll need to remain close to manage operations, but I know this area well.” I pointed to a place on the map.
Riley nodded, her expression determined. “Lauren mentioned Marcy was fascinated by the luminooks. Children that age often focus on a single interest to the exclusion of everything else. If she thought she saw one wandering off…”
“The south ridge. A small colony of wild luminooks we established when we first arrived sometimes comes down from the higher elevations at dusk. They’ll be starting to glow about now.”
“That’s where I’d go if I were a curious six-year-old.”
Our eyes met again, that same current of understanding passing between us. Without another word, I grabbed two packs and handed one to her, which she slung onto her back.
As darkness began to settle over Lonesome Creek, we headed out, taking point on what was quickly becoming the most intensive search operation our little town had seen.
With each step, my awareness of Riley beside me grew stronger.
I appreciated her calm attitude, her quick thinking, and the way she’d seamlessly integrated into our emergency response.
Whatever happened tonight, we’d face it side by side.