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Jo instructed them to stand back and approached the tree with Arnett. “The ground is dry enough I’m not seeing any tracks, not even yours. There’s some damage to the bark. Is that about the height where she was tied?”
“That’s about right,” Trey said.
Jo swiveled at the waist, surveying the forest around them. “Odds are the search and rescue team will want to radiate out from here.”
She pulled out her phone and called the number she’d been given for the search and rescue team’s incident commander, Ethan Roscoe. When he answered, she advised him of their GPS location, and listened to his instructions.
She hung up, sent a quick text, then addressed the group. “Massachusetts Environmental Police are on their way, as well. They have topo maps and ATVs that will allow them to get to us quickly. IMAT, the Incident Management Assistance Team,” she clarified for the Williamses and Matt, “will direct us what needs to be done from there. In the meantime, I’ve asked our crime-scene investigators to send out some techs, because we’ll need to analyze this scene as soon as possible. We need to cordon off this tree, and the area around it.” She paused to check everyone was following her. “Stacia and Trey, since you almost certainly touched the tree when you were untying the dog, we’ll need to get DNA samples and fingerprints from you so we can exclude you from the evidence we collect. After our techs take the samples, Matt, will you escort them back out to the park entrance?”
“Not a problem,” Matt replied.
“Thank you.” She handed Stacia and Trey one of her cards. “And thankyou. Hopefully you’ve saved a second life today.”
CHAPTERTEN
By the time Incident Commander Roscoe of the State Police Special Operations Section, a six-foot-three, broad-shouldered tree of a man, arrived with his team, Jo and Arnett had cordoned off the area with crime-scene tape. After a brief conversation with Jo and Arnett, he turned to his team.
“Listen up. We’re looking for a missing young woman, Madison Coelho. Twenty, average height, brown hair and brown eyes, six months pregnant. She may still be alive, so our first priority is to locate her, but we’ll also need to preserve any potential evidence. As IMAT begins organizing the grid search for the Special Emergency Response Team, we’re going to send in our K-9 unit as well as the Airwing’s helicopters and drones. Between the infrared technology and Rocket’s nose, hopefully we’ll find Madison quickly and have everyone back home warming up in front of their fireplaces by lunch. As always, we have a dedicated radio frequency for the search, so tune to it and use it. Any questions?”
Everyone shook their heads.
Roscoe nodded grimly. “Then we all know our roles. Let’s do this.”
A tense focus took over as the team members shifted into action. Within minutes, the whirring of the helicopter’s rotor blades lifted into the air, followed by the higher-pitched whine of the drones. A subset of the team began to search the immediate area, probing shrubs and underbrush for evidence occluded from immediate view. Even the birds seemed to understand the gravity of the search; their songs hushed and their rustling stilled.
Jo crossed quickly to the familiar K-9 team, a tall, white man in a bright orange jacket next to a white-and-tan pit bull with a matching harness.
“Ivan Geary,” Jo said, extending her hand. “Good to see you again.”
“Excellent memory, Detective,” Ivan said. “Fournier, right?”
“Jo.” She squatted and extended her hand to the dog. “Good to see you, Rocket.”
Geary extended his hand. “Detective Arnett.”
Arnett shook, then held up Madison’s shirt. “We’re hoping Madison went off to help an injured animal and sustained some sort of injury that left her unconscious.”
Geary ran a hand through his buzz-cut hair, subconsciously acknowledging the unspoken alternative, then took the evidence bag. “If I’m not mistaken, the last time I worked with you, the missing woman in question turned up alive. Let’s hope we can keep that streak going.”
Jo mentally knocked on wood. “We’d like to accompany you as Rocket searches, if that’s possible.”
Geary nodded, then opened the front of the evidence bag and held it out to the dog to allow her a several-second sniff. “Rocket, find it!”
The dog’s head swung back and forth, and she moved forward in a zigzag motion. Hesitantly at first—then she bolted northeast.
Jo took care to follow Geary’s steps as closely as possible as Rocket swerved them uphill through trees and boulders, away from the main path. Strafing the shadows with her mini MagLite, Jo ticked off criteria with each sweep—no prints, no crushed foliage, no human artifacts, no blood.
After several minutes Rocket slowed, wavering between two possible directions. Jo’s chest tightened and she prayed desperately Rocket wasn’t losing the trail.
Then the dog bolted again. The trees grew still denser, like a crowd closing in on them, forcing Jo’s attention to the branches and bushes stabbing and swiping her. Time slowed as she twisted and tugged, touching as little as possible while keeping up.
After another quarter mile, Rocket veered abruptly and disappeared behind a large trio of moss-covered boulders. Geary followed, then reappeared from behind them immediately.
“Good job, Rocket.” Geary offered a handful of treats with an artificially positive voice. “Good girl. Good girl.”
Jo’s stomach clenched. She carefully circled around the boulders into a small, flat clearing protected by a canopy of outstretched tree branches.
Madison Coelho lay naked atop the forest-floor detritus, her milky-white skin contrasting sharply with the greens and blacks of the forest floor beneath her—and with the brown-red of the symbols drawn in blood around the knife jutting from her abdomen.
