Chapter 21 Above
Above
Barry knows something’s up the moment I get his working harness. He walks to me with a tight, wary gait and none of his usual bounding enthusiasm. “Good boy,” I tell him. “We’re going to do some work.”
Dev is waiting in the car. Barry inspects him with a cursory snuffle across the ear before collapsing to cover the whole of the back bench. He pants at me in the rearview as I buckle up.
“You sure about this?” Dev asks.
I give him a look. “If you want to back out, I can drop you at home. You don’t need to follow the crazy woman on her crusade.”
“Following a crazy woman on a crusade might be exactly what my life needs right now,” Dev says with a tight smile. “But if anyone catches us, I’m telling them I’m your hostage.”
“Fair.”
We drive in silence. When we get to the pull--off near the Hills’ land, I direct Dev to park with trees between us and the road.
The concealment will hold up to only the most casual inspection, but hopefully no one’s going to get too curious.
I open up the back for Barry. He waves his tail uncertainly as I clip his GPS tracker onto the rugged harness he’s fitted with.
It’s a souvenir from our brief attempts at training him for SAR, but he seems to remember what it’s for.
He looks around as if searching for Matsuda and the others.
“Just us, Barry,” I say. And maybe that means he’ll be the least bit useful, with fewer people to distract him.
We take out flashlights. They’re not the ones I’d normally use—-much smaller, again to avoid detection. We’ll be in and out, and if we don’t get anything, tough luck. But that hum is a live wire in the air. We’re going to find something. I know it.
“Stick close,” I tell Dev, and tug Barry’s leash to get him moving.
There’s a thin path, little wider than a deer trail, cutting between the trees.
I let Barry take a long lead. “Find ’em,” I tell him, which is his cue to start tracking.
He stares at me for a long moment. He’s a far cry from Matsuda’s border collies, with their foxlike noses and uncanny intelligence.
But eventually, those few little drifting brain cells connect up, and he turns his back to me, sniffing enthusiastically.
After that, he circles around us, sharklike, nose working at a constant snuffle.
I’m forced to let him off lead quickly, but thankfully he sticks close.
Matsuda’s dogs will zip off and vanish from sight, trackable only by the bells he keeps attached to their collars, but Barry’s less adventurous.
Plus, he has to take frequent breaks to check if Dev has snacks hidden in his pockets.
At least it’ll help him sort out Dev’s scent from anything lingering out here.
Dev and I walk in wary silence. This is one of the most reckless things I’ve ever done—-and this time, I’m dragging someone else along with me. But something is happening here. I can’t just leave it alone.
“Here are the beads,” I say. We’ve passed onto Terry’s property.
I don’t think Bill is going to be out here with his gun tonight, at least. We left him drinking at the bar, and according to the server, he tends to stay there until closing.
We’ve still got an hour before then. “The marked tree should be this way.”
“I’m remembering, all of a sudden, how much this witch doesn’t like men,” Dev says with nervous humor, sweeping his flashlight around.
“Make sure to tell her you’re a feminist. Maybe you won’t get eviscerated,” I say. Barry digs at the ground, then loses interest. We walk a little ways farther. I’m starting to worry that I’ve forgotten where the tree is when it appears, the red hand splashed vividly in the path of my light.
“Not creepy at all,” Dev notes. Barry lopes in and freezes, body a comma as he catches a scent, makes a decision.
Suddenly he takes off at a gallop.
“Barry!” I say, too softly. It’s been too long since we did this kind of training. He could be after a rabbit or just a shadow.
Just as suddenly as he took off, he’s thundering back. He skids to a halt in front of me, drops his hindquarters, and lets out a low boof.
“What does that mean?” Dev asks.
I swallow. “Theoretically? It means he found something.”
“What does theoretically mean, in this context?” Dev asks.
“It means it’s been years since I did any scent training with him, and he might just have found a French fry,” I say, but my heart is hammering. “Show me, boy.”
Barry bounces back to his feet and takes off at a lope.
We have to scramble to follow, Dev falling in a few steps behind me.
A branch rakes across my cheek, drawing a sharp line of pain in its wake, and then we burst into a small clearing, where Barry stands panting.
He dips his head, snuffles the ground, and looks up again.
After a moment, he seems to remember what he’s supposed to do, and lets out another bark—-this one sharp and loud.
My stomach clenches, my mouth completely dry, as we draw close. Barry walks forward, putting his head under my hand for a congratulatory pat. I can barely move my fingers to scratch him.
“There’s nothing here,” Dev says. “So that means . . .”
Barry paws the ground, whines.
“He’s scenting on human remains,” I say dully. “Something buried.”
“Oh. Oh,” Dev says. We’d discussed the possibility, of course, but this is different. This is the ground we’re standing on. He looks stricken. “It doesn’t mean—-it might not be her.”
“It might not be anyone,” I say. “Barry’s not certified.” But he was good, when he wasn’t distracted. I’ve never seen him give a false positive. Accuracy was never his issue.
“We need to call the police,” Dev says firmly.
“And tell them what?” I ask. “How are we even supposed to explain what we’re doing out here?”
“So wait until tomorrow,” Dev suggests. “We’re right by the preserve, right? There are trails all through there. We’ll take Barry on a walk, say he broke loose. Followed his old training.”
I nod slowly. It’s a decent plan. Dev puts his hands on my arms, soothing me.
“I should do it alone,” I say. “Keep you out of it.”
“Absolutely not,” Dev says. “I am fully committed to my life of crime, and you won’t take it from me.”
I manage to crack a small smile. I’m about to respond when Barry suddenly tenses, nose testing the wind—-and takes off again.
“What’s he doing now?” Dev asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “Barry!”
Barry doesn’t respond. He’s off like a rocket. Dev and I glance at each other, and then we break into a run.
I’m not sure what direction we’re heading.
I barely dodge rocks, roots, and grasping branches as we follow Barry’s path, and then we’re skidding to a halt as Barry trots back and forth at the base of a small hillock.
He scratches at the side of the slope, whining, and there’s something strange about the sound of his claws—-he’s scraping at something hard.
“Barry, back,” I tell him, and he backs off, still whining anxiously. I swipe my hand over the ground, clearing leaf litter, and shine my flashlight at the metallic surface it reveals.
“Is that—-” Dev starts.
“It’s a door.”