Where is she?Where is she!
The debris field was massive—maybe a hundred feet across, thousands of cubic yards of snow. She could be anywhere. Anywhere at all.
He could dig in the wrong spot forever and never find her.
Ben kept digging anyway. Because what else could he do? Stop? Give up?
Never.
He moved again. Dug again. Nothing.
“Charlie,” he whispered. “Please. Please hold on.”
Then—engines. Lights cutting through the darkness.
Snowcats.
The one carrying his brothers, followed by CDOT and Search and Rescue vehicles. They pulled up to the edge of the debris field and doors flew open.
Shane jumped out first, avalanche beacon receiver already in his hand, scanning. His face went tight as he swept the device across the debris field.
“Charlie's beacon. I'm not getting a signal.”
“What do you mean?” Ben's chest constricted. “She was wearing one?—”
“I know.” Shane scanned again, adjusting the settings. “Nothing. Either it's buried too deep or?—”
“Or it's not transmitting,” Bear said quietly.
Ben felt like the ground had disappeared beneath him. No beacon. No way to find her quickly.
“Then we grid search,” he said, his voice hard. “Every inch. She's here. We're going to find her.”
Bear jumped out with shovels and avalanche probes. Gabe was right behind him with more equipment. Waylon grabbed additional gear from the Snowcat.
And then two dark shapes leaped out before anyone could stop them.
Flo and Pete hit the snow and immediately went to work. Noses down, moving across the debris field in frantic patterns. Flo barked once, sharp and urgent, then started digging at a spot thirty feet from where Ben had been searching.
“Flo!” Ben ran toward her.
But the dog was already moving to another spot, then another. She knew Charlie was here. Somewhere. But there was too much snow, too much disruption, scents scattered by the avalanche's violence.
Pete was doing the same—running, sniffing, digging, moving. Neither dog could pinpoint a location.
“Here.” Bear thrust a shovel at Ben. “We need to grid search. Systematic.”
“No time—” Ben started toward where Flo was digging.
“Moose.” Bear's hand on his shoulder, firm. “We do this right or we don't find them at all.”
Ben wanted to scream. Wanted to dig everywhere at once. Wanted to tear the mountain apart with his bare hands.
But Bear was right.
“Okay,” Ben said, his voice breaking. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”
“Start here.” Gabe was already setting up a grid pattern with the probe, working methodically from the uphill edge. “We probe every two feet. When we get a hit, we dig.”
