It was a good search pattern. “No sight of them so far at all?”
“No. We found the area where they camped, but no trace of them after that.”
Huck thought through what he knew of the area. “What time did the storm come in?”
“About that time,” Monty said. “It would have been easy to become disoriented and lose sight of the road. We did find their vehicle, and it appears fine.”
“Did the girls have a radio?”
Monty groaned. “Yes, and we found it in the vehicle.”
“They forgot to take the radio?” Huck snapped.
Monty sighed loudly, competing with the wind in the background. “Yeah, they forgot the radio, but they all had cell phones.”
“They don’t have service out there,” Huck burst out.
Monty snorted. “There’s some service, but you’re right, we haven’t been able to ping anybody’s phone.”
Damn kids thought they could do anything with a cell phone in one hand. “I’m headed out. Don’t argue with me. I’ll update you on my way.”
“Okay. Thanks, Huck,” Monty said.
Huck clicked off and whistled for Aeneas. “Come on, bud. We have search and rescue to do.”
Laurel stood hesitantly by the sofa. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, you stay here. You shouldn’t be out searching.”
“I’m an FBI agent, Huck.”
He nodded. “I’m well aware, but this is search and rescue.”
The woman had had a long day, and whether she realized it or not, she was pregnant, and it did take a toll. Sure, she could fight if necessary, but right now, it wasn’t. He’d go much faster just with Aeneas. His gaze cut to the open laptop on the counter where Rachel Raprenzi’s show streamed out live as she stood under an umbrella next to several emergency vehicles. “Rachel’s out there?”
“Of course she is,” Laurel said, watching the screen. “That woman is everywhere.”
“Unfortunately. Lock the door behind me and keep your gun with you.” With that, he opened the door and ran into the rain. The temperature was dropping, and who knew how far the girls might have gotten in the three hours they’d been lost.
He had to hurry.
* * *
Laurel settled back on Huck’s sofa and ate a very late dinner of scrambled eggs, glued to Rachel Raprenzi’s live show. Somehow Rachel had planted herself next to dispatch and stood close enough to hear the radio communication.
Laurel’s phone dinged from her handbag, and she yanked it out, not recognizing the caller. “Agent Snow,” she said.
“Agent Snow, hello. It’s Tim Kohnex.”
She jerked, the hair on her arms raising. “Mr. Kohnex, how did you obtain my personal cell phone number?”
“The wind spoke to me,” he said, his voice a low, calm drum.
She looked out at the pelting rain. “You’re telling me that the wind whispered the digits of my phone number to you?”
“Yes,” he said. “I know you don’t believe, but sometimes fate intervenes. I had to call you. I knew you’d be up. I’ve been watching Rachel Raprenzi and the search going on. I saw that Huck Rivers is in the woods.”
“This is getting downright annoying. Mr. Kohnex, I’m going to tell you once. Do not ever call me on my private phone.”
