Grave Instinct Page 4

  “Maybe the dogs should be tracking the horse, not the person,” Nikki said.

  “One team already tried that. But there’s too much scent. The barn wasn’t closed for riding until late last night and the K-9 kept getting sidetracked. He couldn’t discriminate between the horses.”

  “Gunner might lock onto the Arabian though. He spends a lot of time at Sonja’s farm tracking her goats and llamas. We make a game of it and he always finds the right animal.”

  Justin scrubbed a skeptical hand over his jaw. “That’s asking a lot. Especially since Savannah’s horse is standing in his stall. His scent will override all his older trails.”

  “But what if they brought us the horse’s saddle pad?” Nikki scrambled to her feet, galvanized with fresh hope. Even Gunner whined, affected by her energy. “We’ll stay far away from the barn,” she said. “I bet he can pick up the scent from the back end. At least enough so we can narrow down the search area.”

  Justin looked at her, then at Gunner. He must have seen the confidence in their expressions because he gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said, reaching for his radio. “It’s worth a shot.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nikki waited at the edge of the clearing, too far from the officials to pick up much of the conversation. Justin was doing most of the talking. Occasionally a word or two drifted her way as they discussed GPS markers on a deployment screen. This area was the hub for the searchers, although she didn’t see any other scent dogs.

  Gunner sat close to her hip, alert but untroubled by the air of urgency. His composure was reassuring. If he’d acted too aggressively, she doubted Justin would let him participate. She took him so many places, in such a variety of situations that Gunner wasn’t aware he’d soon be occupying center stage.

  It was her own composure she was battling. This was the same clearing where Erin’s friends had deserted her, where Pancho had been found tied to a tree. The area had been a favorite spot for riders because it had fresh water, green grass and even a couple apple trees. A deep-banked brook bubbled in the background, three feet wide at its narrowest spot. A quarter mile downstream was a sandy approach where more cautious horses and riders could wade across. But not here. In this spot, the only way to cross the brook was to jump.

  Erin had stood in this same clearing, alone and abandoned. But why had she dismounted? Had Pancho acted up when the other horses left? Had she been afraid to ride him back to the barn? Or simply too proud? Those questions plagued Nikki. If only Erin had texted her. Justin would have given her permission to take Stormy out to join Pancho. He always worried about safety, emphasizing that horses were herd animals and therefore calmer with others.

  She remembered his concern when she told him that Erin and Pancho hadn’t returned, and that she wanted permission to ride out to find her. It had taken about ten minutes to locate him and she’d still been incensed at the boarders. No doubt, Justin had regretted letting Erin leave her chores and go on the trail ride. But he hadn’t snapped or complained. He just studied Nikki for a moment, as if assessing her anger.

  “Stay here, kid, and calm down,” he’d said. “I’ll be faster on Diesel.” He hadn’t wasted any time tacking up. Instead, he’d grabbed a rope and halter, swung up on the horse’s back and galloped off. Even then, she hadn’t been too worried. She’d been angry at the girls and felt bad for Erin, but at that moment she’d mostly been impressed at how well Justin could ride bareback.

  Gunner shoved his nose in her hand, his worried eyes on her face. He had no idea why she hated this clearing and the stable, or that they were the reason for her recurring nightmares. But he always picked up on her turmoil. She gave him a reassuring pat, aware she had to stay focused. There was a lost girl out here, frightened and possibly hurt, who needed to be found.

  One thing for certain, Savannah hadn’t followed the secret game trail to the road. Gunner had cleared that section. And a K-9 unit had checked the other trail heads. Which meant Savannah must still be somewhere in the woods.

  Nikki caught Justin’s authoritative head jab and a tall plainclothes officer detached himself from the group. The man walked up, stopping a respectful distance from Gunner. The bulge beneath his shirt proved a handgun was tucked in his waistband.

  “I’m Tony Lambert, the K-9 coordinator.” He gestured at a red all-terrain vehicle. “Help yourself to sandwiches and coffee, and there’s plenty of water if you need to replenish. That’s a big Shepherd,” he added, his gaze lingering on Gunner. “Don’t see his type much in SAR. He looks like the ones we have on the riot squad.”

  Tony seemed to think she was with search and rescue. It was probably wise not to announce she was a private investigator. Some police resented PIs. “Gunner might come from the same breeder,” she said “He had some police training before he flunked out.”

  “Oh, hell. Is that Gunner? I remember him. He wasn’t as quick as the Malinois but he was capable. And he didn’t flunk out, not exactly. He just refused to climb. He also was getting aggressive. We planned to send him to the protection unit until Justin bought him.”

  “Bought him?”

  “Yes. When Gunner was about a year and a half. Paid a chunk of money too.”

  Nikki coiled the dog lead, hiding her confusion. Justin said Gunner had failed some critical tests and that’s why he was free to a good home. She never would have adopted him if he hadn’t needed to be rescued. And she didn’t get him until he was two so Justin must have had Gunner for at least six months. That explained why the dog adored him.

  It was obvious Gunner didn’t have a similar affection for Tony. He wasn’t growling or straining at the lead, but his eyes were locked on the man’s throat and his raised hackles made him look even bigger. Not surprising. Gunner was always suspicious when a man showed her any attention. It helped with her job but it was hell on boyfriends, especially if they didn’t understand dogs.

  Tony, though, was clearly a dog man. He remained chatty and relaxed, hands at his side, talking about the K-9 training facility and the differences between air scenters and ground trailers. And as she relaxed, so did Gunner.

  “You should drop by our open house in November. See the facility where Gunner had his formative training.” Tony gave a little wink. “And the ladders he couldn’t climb to save his life.”

  “I’d like that,” Nikki said, totally grateful her dog had a weakness that resulted in him leaving the force. Gunner had turned into her best friend when she hadn’t even known she needed one.

  “There’s also jerky in the cooler,” Tony said, gesturing at the four-wheeler again. “I can bring it over if you want to keep Gunner away from the odors. And don’t worry about carrying water for him. Searchers will be behind you with supplies. Do you want to lighten your load?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.” She adjusted the strap of her backpack. It barely weighed eight pounds and she always ran with it, maintaining her strength and endurance. Of course, there was no anticipating where Gunner’s nose would take them. Certainly it would be much rougher terrain than her daily jogs. But she preferred to be self-sufficient. Had learned not to rely on anyone.

  She just hoped Gunner would lock onto Savannah’s Arabian and not be confused by the other horses. He was usually successful playing the “find” game at Sonja’s farm and it was one of the ways she kept him in shape, physically and mentally. Hopefully that training would make a difference.

  “Do you have the Arabian’s saddle pad?” she asked.

  “Sure do.” Tony gave a wry nod. “It reeks of sweat and we also rubbed it over the horse for the last twenty minutes. Not sure if it will be enough though. Our other K-9s were confused with all the scents.”

  It was cool how Tony included Gunner with the scent dogs and Nikki felt a rush of confidence. She rocked on her toes, impatient to get started. But it was important to control her adrenaline and keep her breathing level. It would be disastrous to burn out the first five minutes and turn into a dead weight at the end of Gunner�
�s lead.

  Tony nodded in understanding. “I’ll leave you two alone to get ready then,” he said, and her impression of him rose a notch.

  She walked Gunner in a circle, keeping their muscles loose and visualizing their job. The first few minutes would be a sprint. Once she showed Gunner the horse’s saddle pad, he’d be off like a bullet, nose down, searching for the scent. She’d be sprinting too, gripping the twenty-foot line, trying not to slow him down or curb his enthusiasm. She wouldn’t let him loose, not in this unknown terrain. Gunner became so focused on following a scent he could hurt himself on briars, rocks or barbed wire.

  The burning question was if he’d realize it was a specific horse he was tracking or if he’d be distracted by fresher scent. Nine other riders had been here yesterday, searching for Savannah after her horse galloped back to the barn, riderless. Hoof prints crisscrossed the ground, joining a network of riding trails that fanned from the clearing. And that wasn’t even considering the trails on the other side of the brook.

  She knelt beside Gunner, wrapped her hands around his head and stared into his soulful eyes. “You’re a good dog!” she said, pumping him up. “Ready for the farm game!”

  Justin had given her a handwritten notebook on Gunner’s care as well as the dog’s commands. Some of the more lethal ones were in German, and “farm game” certainly hadn’t been on the list. But those were the words she used when searching for animals on Sonja’s farm and they had worked brilliantly when he’d found the pony stuck in the well. She’d also learned that if she kept things light Gunner focused better, worrying less about pleasing her and concentrating more on the find game.

  Although in this situation, it wasn’t a game. Tracking this particular horse could save Savannah’s life.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Nikki opened the plastic bag and held the Arabian’s saddle pad in front of Gunner, letting him get a good whiff. White hair clung to the bottom of the pad but it wasn’t as sweaty as she’d anticipated. That didn’t seem to matter though. Gunner sniffed it eagerly, his nose twitching.

  Behind her, Justin and his group waited. Silent and hopeful.

  “Find!” Nikki said, dropping the saddle pad. Someone following her would pick it up but she needed to move quickly. Already Gunner had shot out, almost yanking her off her feet. He zigzagged across the clearing, nose to the ground. She raced behind him, the lead double twisted around her right hand. Gunner’s ears were pricked, his body taut as he charged forward, darting to the left, to the right and then shooting forward again.

  Twice he headed down riding trails cut with hoof prints but both times he wheeled and returned to the clearing. He appeared to be looking for an individual scent, seemed to know the difference between Savannah’s Arabian and the rest of the horses. However Nikki’s hope was short-lived as he swung toward the red four-wheeler and scrambled up on the seat. He sniffed at the cushioned seat, then sat, wagging his tail and looking very proud.

  Her heart sank. Was he distracted by the food?

  Tony ran up, his expression sheepish. “Savannah’s horse brushes are beneath the seat,” he murmured. “Sorry.”

  “Find,” she said, keeping her attention on her dog.

  Gunner gave a happy yip, leaped off the machine and powered toward the brook, delighted the game wasn’t over. But he was heading in the wrong direction. The barn owners had already told them the Arabian didn’t like to jump the brook, that Savannah always used the sandy ford further downstream.

  But Gunner pulled on the lead, tugging her forward. She followed, steeling herself for waist-high chilly water. But he didn’t power across the brook. Instead, he wheeled to the left, squeezing past a briar bush and down a narrow game trail that headed away from the water.

  Certainly a big horse couldn’t fit along the trail, but other than the brambles at the beginning it wasn’t impassable. Not for a small Arabian. However this route was a dead end. She remembered the trail maps and knew it led to the back of a limestone quarry, long ago abandoned. There was nothing left but a deep pit surrounded by spiked rocks and invasive trees.

  She scanned the ground as she ran, looking for hoof prints, anything that would give her confidence to trust her dog…and almost tripped over Gunner who’d jerked to a stop close to a water-filled brackish pit. She stared in dismay. They’d barely traveled a quarter mile and had clearly wasted the searchers’ time. Savannah wouldn’t have ridden to the quarry. No rider would.

  But Gunner sat beside a stunted tree, wagging his tail, signaling his find. And he didn’t usually make mistakes.

  She studied the tree, her attention caught by a skeletal white swathe. Bark had been rubbed off at the exact height one would tie a horse. To the right of the tree, hoof prints cut the ground, leading to a wider path that headed east. Back to the barn.

  “Good dog,” she said, scanning the obvious horse trail.

  Gunner shot forward, taking her words as a signal to continue. She quickly checked him. There was no sense letting him trail the prints back to the barn. They already knew Savannah’s horse was back in his stall; it was where the gelding had been that was important.

  This didn’t make sense but it certainly appeared Savannah had been here. Judging by the amount of manure, her horse had been tied to this tree, long and often. Flies crawled over one of the mounds, indicating it was fresher than the others. And white hairs fluttered in the breeze where the horse had rubbed his mane against the bark.

  “Good dog!” Nikki repeated, patting Gunner’s head and pulling the red ball from her backpack. She tossed him the ball, all the while talking in the singsong voice that he adored, letting him know his job was done.

  Gunner didn’t share her triumph. He squeezed the ball between his strong jaws but looked rather puzzled that she hadn’t let him find the live horse. She crouched beside him, reassuring him that he was a good dog. The best.

  But she still couldn’t understand what he had found. This place was too close to the stable. Who would saddle up and ride to this bleak spot, heavy with the smell of stagnant water, only to tie their horse to a tree? There was barely any grass and the water certainly wasn’t drinkable, for horse or rider.

  Justin jogged up, not even breathing hard from the run. His eyes swept the site then he raised a hand, motioning for the searchers to stay back.

  “Put these on,” he said, passing Nikki a pair of plastic booties. He barked orders into his radio and a woman in a ball cap began calling Savannah’s name.

  Justin hadn’t moved since passing her the booties. Now he knelt beside her, staring at the ground, at the tree then at the brackish water. The ball squeaked between Gunner’s jaws. Flies buzzed and a squirrel scolded. But Nikki didn’t speak, understanding Justin’s need for silence.

  “Why would a sixteen-year-old girl pretend she’s going on long trail rides?” he finally said.

  “Maybe her parents were pushing her to ride,” Nikki said. “Maybe they thought horses would keep her busy and out of trouble.”

  Justin ran a hand over his jaw. The stubble had darkened over the last hours, making him look more like a criminal than a detective. “Didn’t sound as if they were worried about that,” he said. “Not from the interview. In fact, the parents said she was a horse nut and didn’t date. Her only male friend was the boy next door.”

  Nikki refrained from making the obvious comment. That boy would have been the first to be questioned and Justin didn’t appreciate needless chatter. Probably the reason he had liked her as a stable hand was because she hadn’t talked and giggled as much as some of the other girls.

  “Gunner came through for us.” Justin’s gaze angled over the ground as if he were reading a book. “He definitely followed the right horse. Savannah’s Arabian wore bar shoes in the front but was barefoot in the back, just like what we’re seeing. It looks like she sat on a blanket by the tree.”

  Nikki followed his gaze, trying to read the sign. She knew the difference between a shod and unshod hoof, but the bar shoe
and blanket had escaped her. She hadn’t even noticed the rectangular impression, clearly a blanket now that Justin had pointed it out. A blue thread even gleamed in the sun.

  She felt a stab of disappointment. Part of her had been hoping to find a hidden shack and that Erin would step out, alive after all this time. But a blanket proved Savannah had chosen to sit there. She hadn’t been abducted.

  Gunner dropped the ball and licked her hand, then reached out and did the same to Justin, as if determined to be fair. He tilted his head, his eyes concerned, obviously still worried that he hadn’t found a live horse.

  “I’m going to let him follow the tracks back to the barn,” Nikki said. “So he can find the horse and finish the job.”

  “No. Don’t move. Not even an inch. Technicians are on their way.”

  The steel in Justin’s voice made her freeze. Then he did something even more strange. He grabbed her hand.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I wish you didn’t have to be here,” he said. “I never wanted you to see this.”

  She stared in bewilderment. His voice was gentle yet deep with remorse. His shoulders were as tight as his grip, and if her dog didn’t know Justin so well, he probably would have grabbed Justin’s arm.

  A flash of yellow caught her eye. Justin’s team was already stringing up crime scene tape. She’d heard him on the radio barking out orders but hadn’t absorbed all his instructions, too busy praising her dog and hoping Savannah was close by.

  Justin wasn’t looking at the officers. His eyes remained locked on her face. She’d never seen him look like so apologetic. And sad. He was stroking her hand now, and his intimate touch would have been welcomed if she weren’t so confused. “I’m going to need an impression of your boots,” he said. “As of now, we’re the only two searchers who have walked here.”

  She’d assumed Savannah was hurt and lying somewhere close by. But he was treating this as a crime scene. “What are you seeing?” she asked.