She swore and turned back into the house.
He stood in the doorway, King panting hard beside him, and listened. The jangle of Atlas’s working harness coming off the hook. The scrape of boots. The zip of her SAR vest. He’d watched her gear up before, but this was different.
She came back to the door in under ninety seconds. Atlas was in full gear at her left knee, his orange harness a match for King’s, his whole body pitched forward, all but vibrating to get on with the job.
“How long since the school lost him?” she asked, pulling the door shut behind her.
“Three, maybe four hours.”
She nodded. Said nothing else.
He was grateful for that more than he had words for, so he didn’t try.
fourteen
Atlas dropped his nose to the trail and pulled, and Greta went with him.
The path climbed through ponderosa pines, their shadows running long and dark across the needle-soft ground. The light was going, and when the sun hit the ridge, it would drop into complete darkness. She could already see her breath when she exhaled.
Too cold.
C’mon, Logan, where are you?
Atlas moved at a steady trot, focused, not frantic. It meant he had a strong scent trail, which was a good sign.
Behind her, Bear crashed through the underbrush like… well, a bear. He’d occasionally cup his hands around his mouth and bellow, “Logan!”
Silence. Nothing but the echo of his own voice.
The trail bent, then steepened, and Bear fell further behind. She pushed through a low branch and felt cold pine resin drag across her arm. The sound of the highway had disappeared a quarter mile back, swallowed by elevation and trees, and now there was just her breathing and Atlas’s quiet movement and the wind working the tops of the pines above her in long, slow sighs.
She keyed her radio. “Bear, stay where you are. It’s getting too dark.”
Silence on the other end.
“Bear?” she tried again.
A crackle, then his voice, strained and tight. “Copy.”
She pressed the radio to her chest, letting Atlas lead her deeper into the trees. The forest floor was a patchwork of shadows now, the last of the light filtering through the pine canopy in thin golden spears that did little to illuminate the path.
Atlas’s pace changed. He slowed, his nose working more deliberately, his tail dropping slightly. He was closing in.
She followed, her heart hammering against her ribs. The temperature was dropping fast, and she pulled her jacket tighter around her neck. If Logan was out here without a coat...
“Come on, boy,” she whispered to Atlas. “Find him.”
The dog pulled her off the main trail, down a gentle slope thick with undergrowth. She ducked under low-hanging branches, wincing as pine needles scratched at her face. The radio at her hip crackled again.
“Anything?” Bear’s voice was barely recognizable, raw and stripped of its usual gruffness.
“Atlas is on something,” she answered. “Stay put.”
She couldn’t see the trail anymore, couldn’t even see the sky through the dense canopy. Just darkness and more darkness, with Atlas’s orange harness the only bright spot in her vision.
Then she saw a dark shape against a fallen log, huddled and still.
“Logan?” she called softly.
