He took the hat. That the distraught mom had had the presence of mind to know what would be needed to find her child spoke volumes about Lydia’s composure in what was one of the most difficult challenges a parent could face. “Which direction did the child go when you last saw her?”
The dark-haired woman pointed toward the trees by the trail. “Lydia can tell you more about what happened.”
He held the baseball hat toward Frankie’s nose. She sniffed and gave a tail wag. He handed the cap back to her. “The other searchers will need that when they arrive.”
He took Frankie off her leash. “Frankie, find.” The yellow Lab headed up the trail. Right before he left, River glanced down at the parking lot. On the mountain road below, he saw two other vehicles headed up. He’d have help soon enough.
Tail moving, nose to the ground, Frankie was on the scent. The trail was hot right now. Gray clouds overhead suggested that rain was coming, which would muddy the scent for the dogs. They needed to find this kid fast.
When he entered the trees, he heard a woman’s voice frantically calling, “Elsie. Elsie, where are you?”
A petite redheaded woman emerged from a different part of the forest. He’d seen that pale skin and stricken expression before on other parents.
His mind whirled back to eight months ago and the case that still haunted him. A five-year-old boy had seemingly wandered away from the family farm. River and Frankie had been called in with other search and rescue personnel. They had searched in wider and wider circles around the farm. An offhanded remark by a neighbor helping with the search made him realize that the child hadn’t wandered away but had been taken by a noncustodial parent. By the time they’d located the father and son, it was too late. The man had been driving too fast and shot through a guardrail. Noah hadn’t survived. Why hadn’t he asked more questions up front? The search would have been conducted differently, and Noah might still be alive. Search and rescue often didn’t have positive outcomes, but losing Noah was the first time a child had died on his watch.
Though Noah’s mother had been standing in a cluster of people that day, he’d recognized her even at a distance just by the look on her face. Regret twisted through his stomach. He vowed that this time things would be different. He wouldn’t assume, he’d ask more questions.
He ran toward the redheaded woman. Her green eyes looked as though a veil had been pulled over them.
“You’re Elsie’s mother?”
She nodded.
He held out his hand to her. “I’m Officer River Jameson and this is my partner, Frankie. Can you tell me what happened? Where did you last see your daughter?”
She pointed toward a meadow that led to a canyon. “We were…chasing a butterfly.” Her eyes glazed over.
“The call said there was foul play?”
She looked right at him as she shook her head. “Someone pushed me…and I fell.” Again, she indicated the canyon, which must have a steep incline.
Had someone intended to kill Lydia or just get her out of the way so they could snatch little Elsie? He scanned the trees as his hand flexed toward his holstered gun. What if the perpetrator was still around? There’d been two other cars besides the bus in the parking lot.
Lydia was in rough shape, but he needed to ask questions in order to understand what had happened.
“You didn’t see who pushed you?”
She shook her head. “When I climbed back up, Elsie was… Elsie was…gone.” She drew her hand to her trembling mouth as tears flowed.
He reached out to squeeze her arm as a show of support.
His mind raced. A possible kidnapping. But how could they have gotten away? The kidnapper wouldn’t be able to get back to one of the cars in the parking lot. He or she might still be in the forest, waiting for a chance to escape.
He could hear the baying of a hound and the barking of another dog growing louder.
“Mrs.—”
“It’s Miss Caldwell. It used to be Mrs.”
He sensed deep pain behind that bit of information. “Miss Caldwell. We’ve got more dogs on the scent, why don’t you go back to trailhead and wait?” She would be safer with people around. If there had been one attempt on her life, there could be another.
She gripped his arm as her eyes cleared. “No, thank you. I will look for my daughter.”
The quiver had left her voice, and he saw that look of steel resolve in her features.
She pulled her phone out. “This is her. This is my Elsie.”
He stared at a smiling green-eyed child with teeth like little pearls and a bright expression.
