Orlando took off, his nose to the air, circling, his tail wagging. He loved this game. His nose went down and he trekked to the burned cabin, his nose twitching as he sniffed the charredtimbers. The faint creak of the structure echoed in the quiet. He moved to a cluster of smaller buildings—old bunkhouses, their windows boarded, the wood splintered, the roofs sagging under the snow’s weight. Orlando nosed along the walls, his tail slowing, his ears pricking as he searched for the scent.
Deke jogged up, his breath fogging in the air. “What’s he doing? Just sniffing around?”
“He’s air scenting,” Jericho said, his gaze on Orlando as the dog nudged a rusted shed, its door hanging off one hinge, the metal groaning. “He can catch human scent on the wind, doesn’t need to follow a trail like a tracking dog. He’s picking up the scent cone, the cloud of odor humans leave behind. It moves with the breeze, pools in low spots.”
“No article of clothing needed?” Deke asked, his badge glinting in the dim light, as he watched Orlando circle the shed, his nose low, his tail flicking.
“Not to start,” Jericho said, his hand on his radio, his gaze tracking Orlando’s movements. “Air scent dogs are trained to find any human scent in the area—living, breathing, moving.”
“I thought he was an avalanche dog.” Deke’s gaze flicked to Jericho. “How’s that play in?”
“Avalanche dogs work in chaos—deep snow, high winds, low visibility.” Jericho watched Orlando dart toward what looked like the mess hall. “They learn to find scent under pressure, in tough terrain, where it’s scattered or buried. This camp’s a mess—snow, wind, old buildings—but Orlando’s used to that. He’ll find Mars’s scent even if it’s faint, even if he’s hiding.”
Deke nodded, his gaze on the dog.
Orlando froze, his head snapping up, his body tensing. He’d found it—the scent cone. The dog took off across the compound, his legs pumping, snow flying in his wake as he ran toward a dense thicket of spruce trees at the camp’s edge, then disappeared from sight.
See, this was why he needed a bell! “Orlando!” Jericho took off, sprinting after the dog, his boots slipping on the icy patches, his breath burning in his chest. The team shouted behind him, their voices fading as he plunged into the thicket, the branches snagging his parka, the needles sharp against his skin.
A shot barked into the morning. Sharp, quick, and Jericho dropped out of old habit, hands over his head, his heart slamming against his ribs.
And clearly he didn’t need a bell, because behind the dying echo rose a dog’s cry.
5
Harley just knewin her gut, this was going to go south. As soon as Jericho had dropped to one knee and whispered “find,” a sort of premonition, like ice, slid through her.
So she took off after Jericho, who ran after his dog and, of course, when the shot cracked through the brisk air, Harley dropped, her boots skidding on the icy ground at the edge of the SOR camp’s thicket.
And then came the dog’s yelp. Crying.Oh no,no—
She looked up seconds later to see Jericho on his feet, scrambling into the forest, searching for his wounded dog.
Aw, and now he was going to get shot.
She raced after Jericho, her legs pumping, her coat snagging on spruce branches as she followed him into the dense trees.
Faintly, she heard Deke shouting, but she ignored him and shot out into a clearing behind the mess hall that contained old oil drums, a rusty dumpster, and ... Jericho.
Holding his dog. The animal trembled, a low whine escaping his throat.
She raced up to them. “Is he okay?”
Orlando pressed against Jericho’s leg, his ears flat, his tail tucked, trembling. Poor thing.
“I think so,” Jericho said, his voice rough, his hands running over the dog’s body, checking for injuries. “He’s scared—aw, I shouldn’t have brought him out here.”
She frowned but didn’t respond, her gaze searching the area for the shooter.
There. She spotted him—a dark figure sprinting down a trail behind the mess hall, his coat flapping, a shotgun in hand, his boots kicking up snow as he headed for the creek bed.
Oh no, he wasn’t getting away. Not this time.
She took off.
“Harley, stop!” Jericho yelled. “Wait for backup!”
No time. She didn’t waste her breath, now burning in her chest, her gaze locked on Mars as he disappeared around a Quonset building that sat in the middle of what looked like a vehicle graveyard. The hut’s shattered windows sent shards of light into the morning.
