CHAPTER 13
Wyatt puthis phone away and stepped closer to Kori to give her the update. “Micah is heading out to examine the vehicle. He and his deputies will go through it.”
Kori nodded and touched the back of her neck. “I appreciate that.”
Jake climbed from his truck, Moses following him, and they met them in the lot.
Wyatt had always respected the man—he was a good search and rescue ranger. And Moses, his bloodhound, was one of the best.
He introduced him to Kori, and they debriefed a moment.
Then it was time to go.
He prayed Kori could handle this trail. That they’d be safe. That the snow wouldn’t slow them up too much. A lot could go wrong.
But they needed to find Mackenzie. If she was out in these elements, then she was in danger. The conditions were bad. Hypothermia could set in. Wild animals were also a risk. But even more than that, she could fall. Get lost.
Too many things could go wrong.
Wyatt produced a sealed plastic bag from his backpack. Inside was a gray henley from Mackenzie’s laundry basket. He held it open for Moses, and the bloodhound buried his face in it, huffed twice, and went completely still.
Then the canine shifted, ready to work.
Next Wyatt offered the bag to Thunder. The shepherd’s nose worked the fabric. Then he lifted his head and looked at the trail marker.
The canines were set to begin.
Wyatt looked at Kori. “Ready?”
She nodded, a determined look on her face. “Let’s go.”
Despite the circumstances, Wyatt couldn’t help but notice that the trail was beautiful.
Snow covered every branch, and the mountains seemed to be clothed in innocence. The canopy had prevented much of the snow from reaching the ground, meaning they were walking through six inches of snow instead of a foot.
Moses moved steadily ahead on the trail, his nose low as he followed the scent Jake had given him. Thunder ranged forward and outward, checking back at intervals.
Bloodhounds worked ground scent. Thunder worked the air. So having both canines here worked in their favor.
Kori kept pace behind Wyatt. He heard the change in her breathing as the elevation climbed. She wasn’t a hiker, but she didn’t complain—which he could admire.
After a while, she said, “How does this actually work?”
Wyatt glanced back at her. “Search and rescue?”
She nodded. “I mean . . . are we just hoping the dogs find something? Or is there more of a plan than that?”
“There’s always a plan. We start with last known point—where the person was last seen or confirmed. From there, we work probability. Where they were headed, what shape they’re in, how long they’ve been out here.”
“And the dogs?”
“They give us direction,” he said. “Moses is tracking where she’s been. Thunder helps pick up anything that drifts—movement, scent carried on the wind. Sometimes one works better than the other, depending on conditions.”
Kori stepped over a root buried beneath the snow. “And if the trail disappears?”
“It usually does at some point,” Wyatt said. “Snow, terrain, time—it all breaks things up. That’s when we widen the search. Grid patterns. Air support if we have it. We cover ground until something turns up.”
She was quiet a moment, then said, “And most of the time . . . you find them?”
