Sommer elbowed Marna as she spotted two of the men with backpacks slung over one shoulder and hanging almost empty. They wore shorts with their hoodies. Bare-legged in the chilly damp of pre-dawn mountain air, they were both in flip-flops. Wet flip-flops rubbed blisters then holes into the delicate skin between the toes. Sommer had to assume they’d shown up, offered to volunteer, signed the same “I won’t sue anyone” papers, and said they’d be fine.
“They heard a call out and decided to join in,” Marna said. “I’d give them forty-five minutes on the trail, tops.”
“I wonder if the search leader would say, ‘good luck going home,’ or if they’d all have to escort the two men back,” Abbie said.
“The flip-flop guys might just get lost in the woods trying to descend. So add two more to the headcount.”
“Emergency Services will triage the kids.” Marna pulled her pack onto her knees and rested her chin on it. “You can’t split forces when the men have muscle, fat, and, hopefully, some life experience to guide them, while the little ones have hope, fear, and damp pajamas.
“What those men lack is common sense,” Sommer said. “So that doesn’t bode well. Look, there are three more of us.”
Abbie stood and raised her hand in a wave. “They’ve got someone in the blaze-orange uniform shirt with them. Come on. Diane’s signaling us over.”
Sommer stood, then pulled her pack over her shoulders. “Let’s get to the rescuing.”
“Are you members of the Women Top Peaks Hiking Club?” The rescue gal asked as the three friends strode over.
“They’re with us,” Diane said.
“I’m Wendy.” The searcher had her head down as she rifled through her papers, pulling two out of the pile and placing them on top. “Sommer Hayes?” she announced clearly.
“Me.” Sommer stepped forward.
“And Marna Bickham,” Wendy said.
“Yup.” Marna raised her hand.
“You two are our medics on this team. I’m carrying a field first aid kit at the top of my pack. If one of us gets hurt, or we find the kids, are you comfortable taking on that role?”
“We are,” Sommer said. “Do you need us to sign something?”
“No, we already have your paperwork, and that’ll be good enough. You’re using Good Samaritan laws. I’m just letting you know where the kit is in case it’s me who goes down for the count.” She pointed up, “Full moon, which is great for seeing clearly. In the field, we’ll use red or green on our headlamps to preserve our night vision.”
Wendy handed out paper maps. On each, she’d marked their path with a yellow highlighter. “This is the trail that we’re tasked with.” She held the last one up in front of her chest. “I understand you ladies go up that stretch at least once a year, so you know the area pretty well.”
“In the daytime,” Diane said.
“We’ll be fine,” Marna said. “We know the trail.”
“This trail goes up to the peak that’s miles long. Hours of hiking. Could the kids get that far?”
“Their trailer is a hundred yards from where we’re standing. The children grew up in the woods and are used tolong hikes with their parents. We think that if they found a trail, they’d get on it and stay on it. The brother, at least, would know what to do. That’s why we asked the hiking clubs to join the search.”
“Glad to be asked,” Abbie said.
“Glad you all said yes,” Wendy said as she flipped her map over to hold up a colored flier with back-, side-, and front-facing pictures of the missing children. “Luckily, their mom and dad have up-to-date pictures. And this one here,” she pointed to the bottom, “shows what they were wearing when they went to bed.”
“Did someone take the kids? I mean,” Diane asked, “are we looking for a bad person?”
“No signs of foul play.” Wendy’s gaze swept their group. “The little girl, Amber, is eight. She’s on the autism spectrum and wanders. The mom thinks her son, Cory, aged six, went out to make sure Amber was okay. The mom only noticed them missing because she had a nightmare and went to check. So we don’t have a good timeframe for when they went missing. Anything after ten o’clock when Mom checked on them before she went to bed. The dad was working late shift.”
Sommer reached for the photo and pulled it over to hold between her and Marna. Both women scanned the photos. It wasn’t likely there would be any other stray children on the hike, and they knew the photo was there, so the searchers’ brains had clear, fresh images of hair color, size, and matching bunny pajamas. But she and Marna were looking for other clues.
Clues that might be missed by someone who wasn’t in the medical field.
Clues that showed up with an explanatory story in the emergency department. They were looking for layers in the ages of bruises and the watchful look in the children’s eyes.
Both nurses scanned each child’s picture, looking for a reason to disbelieve that the children had merely wandered andmaybe even to suspect that something more nefarious was in play.
