Grave Instinct Page 3

  She passed four pickups manned by solemn volunteers in yellow bibs who motioned for her to continue driving. They were obviously positioned to keep trails clear from contamination in case this turned into a crime scene. They’d done the same thing when Erin had disappeared, although it hadn’t helped. The theory that Erin had tied Pancho, then walked out to the road and left in a vehicle had never been substantiated. There’d been too many tire tracks and the ground had been too dry to provide any supporting evidence.

  Nikki drove another pensive mile, weighed down with thoughts, theories and dark memories. The blacktop changed to gravel, the road empty now of vehicles. But there used to be a narrow bridge where the brook cut Quarry Road and marked the perimeter of public land. If she could find the brook, she could gain access.

  She slowed, scanning both sides of the road, searching for the bridge and the game trail that used to follow the east side of the brook. The path had been too narrow for big horses but a plucky pony like Stormy had no problem fitting between the trees. She’d ridden the trail often, delighting that she could go where no one else could follow, pretending she was a pioneer in the wilderness, just her and a rather cantankerous pony.

  Thinking of Stormy made her smile. He’d been so naughty, few children wanted to ride him, but at one time he’d been her best friend. She was so wrapped up in her memories she would have missed the bridge if not for the crunch of gravel over planked wood and the changing vibration of her tires.

  Sobering, she jammed her vehicle onto the narrow shoulder and yanked open the back door.

  “Let’s go, Gunner,” she said, grabbing her backpack and clipping on his leash.

  They scrambled into the overgrown ditch, ducked beneath a rotting tree and then were instantly slowed by a prickly wall of brush. Twice she had to stop and untangle Gunner’s leash and she began doubting her memory.

  Was this the wrong spot? There didn’t seem to be any sort of path. However, the brook couldn’t have changed and the game trail had followed it to the road. She remembered her mother picking them up by the bridge when they owed money for Erin’s riding gloves. It had been a week before payday and her mom hadn’t wanted to drive by the owner’s house.

  So Nikki pushed on, punching through an endless stretch of bramble that grabbed at her clothes and pricked her skin.

  Finally she found it—a narrow mossy path that snaked alongside the brook. The spot where Erin’s horse had been found was still miles away but that was only if one stayed on a groomed bridle path. As a crow flew, or a little pony walked, the clearing was much closer.

  She didn’t like to think about that clearing. Or what might have happened there. But it seemed history was repeating itself, and she was determined to help. Maybe a predator who knew girls rode alone in these woods had built an underground lair. Perhaps he’d taken Erin but after more than a decade was bored, wanted a replacement and had grabbed Savannah.

  So Nikki inched forward, checking bushes, tree roots, old stumps, searching for a ventilation hole, the depression of a trap door, vegetation beaten down in an odd way, anything that would reveal a hidden human presence. It took ten minutes to travel thirty feet and when Gunner gave her hip a questioning nudge, she realized she was letting emotion cloud her focus.

  This was about Savannah. It was just as likely the unfortunate girl had fallen off her horse and needed medical attention—nothing related to Erin or secret bunkers or scum who preyed on solitary women.

  But she couldn’t stop her shiver. Because this was definitely the perfect place to stash a victim. Few people would willingly push through these claustrophobic bushes, not without good reason. She certainly couldn’t imagine any normal person choosing to hike here.

  Gunner stiffened, his head raised, his ears marking a sound only he heard. Moments later, she heard something too.

  “Quiet,” she whispered, dropping to her knees and placing a warning hand over his muzzle.

  Gunner’s attention was locked on a rustling less than a stone’s throw away. A rabbit or mouse? Perhaps another searcher? But legitimate searchers wouldn’t be in this area and they’d be moving in a grid, calling Savannah’s name. These sounds were subtle, like someone who preferred not to be seen and was accustomed to moving silently.

  Keeping her eyes glued toward the sound, she slipped the pack off her shoulders and reached inside, searching by touch. Rubber ball, pepper spray, gun. She pulled out her Glock, comforted by its familiar weight, hoping it was him. For years, she’d yearned to punish the man who had taken her sister.

  But this was a prime spot for an ambush, his advantage, and her heart thumped with adrenaline and fear. The surrounding brush was so thick he could be on her in an instant. She couldn’t unleash Gunner. Not yet. Her dog could move much faster than her and she didn’t want him facing danger alone. Fortunately she could depend on his keen nose to tell her the direction of the man’s approach, and she’d rather have Gunner beside her than anyone else. Her dog was loyal, smart and ever suspicious.

  An ant crawled across her hand and overhead a blue jay screamed. But she kept her attention locked on Gunner, relying on his instincts. He would never be fooled by someone posing as a hiker, and all she needed to do was follow his lead. But her eyes widened at his odd reaction. Gunner wasn’t growling. His lip hadn’t curled. Even his hackles didn’t rise.

  Only his tail moved. And it was wagging.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Nikki gaped in dismay. Gunner was always suspicious of men and this was a bad time to turn friendly. But he was wiggling with such delight, he resembled an overgrown Lab pup rather than a reserved police dog. Then realization struck. She’d thought she’d evaded the police by coming in by the old bridge, but there would be no fooling this particular cop.

  A branch moved and Justin Decker stepped out. He’d filled out over the years, and he seemed even taller today, especially since she was kneeling on the ground. No sense trying to bluff, pretending she was just out walking her dog. Not with Justin. He knew her too well.

  “Hello, Detective,” she said, quickly slipping her gun back in her pack.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Nikki.”

  His greetings were often terse but at least he wasn’t calling his officers to escort her back to her car. He, of all people, would understand why it had been impossible for her to stay away. Erin’s disappearance had impacted his career choice as surely as it had her own. But policing suited him. He’d risen quickly in the ranks, from beat cop to top detective. And though it was probably prudent to make up an excuse, she’d never been able to lie to him.

  “I wanted to help,” she said, rising to her feet, ignoring the dirt that clung to her jeans. “And I didn’t cross any police lines. I didn’t think anyone knew about this trail.”

  “Your pony trail?” The left side of his mouth twitched, making him look much more approachable. “I knew.”

  She tilted her head, remembering the time someone had chopped up a fallen tree too big for Stormy to jump. She’d never known who had walked all the way out with an axe, only that she’d been grateful her secret trail was no longer blocked. And if Justin knew about this path, he would have known about its accessibility by the bridge.

  “Do you know if this area was thoroughly searched?” she asked. “Back then.”

  His mouth flattened and he looked at Gunner, his way of letting her know he was in charge of the questions. He had an effective deadpan and his dark sunglasses made it hard to read his expression. Of course, Justin was always difficult to read.

  “Gunner looks good,” he said. “Still using the same commands?”

  “Most of them.” She glanced down at Gunner who lay obediently on the ground. The only thing not still was his tail. It has been Justin who had brought her Gunner when the dog turned two. He’d flunked out of police training so had been free to a good home.

  “What did he fail?” she had asked.

  “Ladder climbing or something,” Justin had said. She’d been dubio
us about dog ownership—both the attachment and the responsibility—but as usual, Justin had been right. She’d fallen in love with Gunner, and his training had helped her in countless situations. And that was probably her best card to play before Justin sent her packing.

  “I thought Gunner could help look for Savannah,” she said, hiding behind a confident tone. “He found a pony last week and he’s had a lot of practice tracking animals on my friend’s farm.”

  “He always had a good nose,” Justin said. “No one ever argued that.” He keyed his shoulder mic, his thoughtful gaze on her dog as he spoke to someone called Tony.

  At least she hadn’t been banished. And he was letting her listen to his conversation with the command post. Obviously Savannah hadn’t been found yet. Based on his questions, a chopper was in the air, equipped with a heat sensor. A K-9 team was working the horse trails but it sounded like that dog was miles away and moving in a northwest direction.

  Justin clicked off the radio, his eyes sweeping her pack. “I assume you have Gunner’s tracking harness in there. Put it on and let’s see what he can do. I’ll have someone meet us at the clearing with a piece of Savannah’s clothing.”

  Nikki gave a grateful nod. However, she’d been hoping for a general search, one where Gunner might alert them to a possible predator. But if Gunner was told to find Savannah he’d likely ignore any other scent, even if they walked over an underground bunker.

  “This area is so isolated,” she said, reaching into her pack. “It’s probably best to have Gunner search now. I really think that would be best.”

  “Best for whom?” Justin said. “This isn’t about your sister. Savannah is the one we need to find. There’s a better chance she’s alive.”

  His blunt words left her fumbling with the harness. She’d accepted the police had moved on. Robert and Sonja also believed Erin was dead. But hearing a similar thought from Justin twisted something deep in her chest. She bent over Gunner, hiding her vulnerability, hating the way her fingers trembled. The snap was too stiff or too small, and she couldn’t force the damn thing over the metal ring.

  Justin reached out, his arm pressing against her thigh, his warm hand covering her fingers. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even clip the snap. He was just there. Emotion swamped her: anger, frustration and something else she felt whenever he was close, a sharp level of attraction that she kept buried.

  “Today has to be about Savannah,” Justin said. “But I’m still looking for Erin. Like you, I’ll never stop.”

  Her breath came out in a grateful whoosh. Everyone thought Erin was dead. The police rarely returned her calls now and when they did, it was with a hint of impatience. She’d thought becoming a licensed investigator would give her an inside edge. But there had been no suspects, no witnesses, no evidence. Even Robert had given up. To have Justin still solidly on her side made her feel much less alone.

  He understood her pain and guilt. Privately she might admit her sister was never coming back. However, it wouldn’t be the cold hard truth until they found a body. And deep down she craved justice. She needed to see Erin’s abductor punished.

  Her throat thickened and it was tempting to turn and tuck her head against Justin’s chest. To close her eyes and curl up in a ball and let him comfort her, as he had that horrible day when Erin hadn’t returned.

  “But you have to think of another missing girl now,” Justin went on. “Gunner won’t be able to do his job if he senses you’re upset. And I’ll be wasting my time with you, valuable time that Savannah can’t afford.”

  Nikki jerked back, horrified to think she was wasting precious seconds. Justin always knew how to motivate her. And she appreciated his dose of realism. Her sister was a cold case while Savannah might be able to go home to a warm bed. She wanted to make that happen. So badly. Perhaps in the process she’d see something that would uncover the mystery of what had happened to Erin.

  Squaring her shoulders, she tightened her grip on the tracking rope, aware Gunner would pick up every nuance of her voice and body. “We’re ready,” she said firmly. “Let’s go find Savannah.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The brush was thick and dense and while Gunner was able to push through, Nikki and Justin were forced to move much slower. The long lead kept tangling, consuming more precious time. And Gunner still hadn’t picked up the scent.

  When she’d first shown him Savannah’s shirt, Gunner had stuck his quivering nose in the cotton and bounded off, delighted to have a job. But now his enthusiasm waned and he kept glancing back, his eyes a question. Judging by his behavior, it didn’t appear that Savannah had been anywhere in this section of the woods. But Nikki tamped down her negative thoughts. This was Justin’s show, and she was grateful he was letting her help.

  “Hold up,” Justin said, his voice as even as if he was sitting behind a desk. “Take a break and I’ll radio in our coordinates.”

  Nikki nodded, relieved to give Gunner a break even though it was obvious Justin didn’t need one. However scent dogs could easily hyperventilate since their noses were working overtime. She pulled out a bottle and a collapsible bowl then sat beside Gunner while he noisily lapped the water. Heat and perspiration glued her shirt to her skin. It felt as if they’d covered a lot of ground but progress was frustratingly slow.

  It was easier to pick up a scent if Gunner could run in an open field and spiral out from the center as he did at Sonja’s farm. Sometimes he detected it in the air rather than following a trail. But if Savannah was being held underground—and Nikki couldn’t push the bunker idea completely from her head—it was unlikely Gunner would pick up the girl’s scent unless he was very close.

  She twisted the cap back on her water bottle, trying to keep thoughts of Erin from bleeding into this search. But as usual, it was impossible to stop thinking of her sister.

  Justin was still talking on the radio, his voice deep and composed, even though he must be similarly frustrated. She could hear the conversation and it wasn’t reassuring. The helicopter hadn’t spotted any sign and the K-9 team had turned up nothing. Just like Erin twelve years ago, Savannah had vanished into thin air.

  Justin clicked off the radio. “How’s Gunner feeling?”

  It was typical of him to worry about animals, but in this case even more practical. A tired or hurting dog might ignore a scent.

  “He’s good,” she said. “With a break every twenty minutes or so, he can continue.”

  “What about you? Feeling okay?”

  “I’m great.” She wasn’t tired, but the backs of her heels were rubbing and soggy socks meant blisters were inevitable. She should have detoured home and grabbed her waterproof boots. However, she’d been in too much of a hurry. She’d never imagined she’d be allowed to join the official search. Had anticipated scoping the area beside the brook or, at the very most, to be checking the game trail outside the perimeter. And for this unexpected opportunity, it was no problem blocking inconsequential pain. All she had to do was think of Savannah’s family and the agony they were enduring.

  She started to rise but Justin placed a hand on her shoulder. “Stay down,” he said. “Rest for another minute. Want something for your blisters?”

  She peered up and caught the amused twitch of his lip. “How did you know?”

  He tossed her some band-aids then crouched down and pulled a bramble from her pony tail. It should have hurt, but his fingers handled her hair as deftly as when he used to plait a horse’s mane. She tilted her head, giving him better access, accepting she didn’t always have to act tough, at least with him.

  “That feels nice,” she said, blowing out a pleasurable sigh.

  He instantly dropped his hand. “I just don’t want you slowing down Gunner.”

  They both knew brambles and blisters wouldn’t slow her down. But lately Justin didn’t seem to want to touch her. He’d already moved away, putting more distance between them. And Gunner had his head on his paws, watching them both with concern. He lived to ple
ase, knew that if he was successful she’d pull his red ball from the backpack and they’d have a fun play. So far though, he hadn’t been able to pick up any scent to run a track. Of course, Savannah had been mounted for all or most of the time.

  “Where did they find Savannah’s horse?” Nikki asked as she ripped open the band-aids and stuck them on her heels. “Is it possible she fell off over one of the cross-country jumps on the north side?”

  “Her horse galloped back to the barn so we don’t know where he came from. And those old hurdles are gone. The stable is full of endurance riders now.”

  Nikki grimaced. Now she understood why the searchers seemed to have no idea of Savannah’s route. With a big horse, typical of the jumpers, the rider would stick to groomed trails where it wasn’t necessary to duck beneath branches. But the endurance riders sought out more challenging terrain; their horses were smaller and more nimble. A good horse could travel a considerable distance in four hours, unrestricted by obstacles such as water, thickets and steep hills. Hopefully Savannah hadn’t been on a good endurance horse.

  “Savannah’s horse was an Arabian, 14.2 hands high and very fit.” Justin spoke as if reading her mind. “When she rode out yesterday, she was headed toward the brook. Her cell phone was found in her bag, attached to her saddle.”

  Nikki grimly tightened her boot laces, praying that Savannah had fallen off and not been abducted. Justin had always insisted riders carry their phones on their person so that if they fell off, the phone didn’t disappear with their horse.

  When Erin had vanished, police tried to trace her cell but it appeared as if the chip had been removed. That was another bothersome detail. Erin never would have dismantled her cherished phone, even if she knew how to do it. But in Savannah’s case, it made sense she hadn’t called for help—her horse had carried the phone back to the barn.