The whole time, in the same calming voice he used to read bedtime stories to his nephews, Gabriel narrated what he was doing so the kids could get used to the sound of his voice. Gabriel knew from his time out in the woods training and solo hiking that being away from people, even for a short time, a sudden voice would be startling.
Once the fire was going, Gabriel got busy rifling through his backpack, not that he had anything he needed in there, but he wanted to see what the kids would do if they weren’t being watched.
Cory pushed the skillet forward and edged closer and closer to the fire.
Amber and Whiskey edged forward, too.
Gabriel filled the center pan from his mess kit with water, topped it with the lid, and stuck it by the fire to warm.
Then he pulled a protein bar from his pocket and began to eat while looking up at the treetops and making little noises—yum and mmm—to show the food was delicious.
It wasn’t. It was barely edible.
Really what Gabriel wanted was for the kids to drink the water.
Bonus if the kids trusted him enough that he could get them cleaned up with the water he was heating, changed into dry clothes, and have their cuts treated.
Reaper moved into their space slowly, calmly. He didn’t walk near the kids. He came around, sat next to Gabriel, opened his pack, took out his food, and drank water from his camel pack hose. He looked over to where Whiskey lay, eyeing her food. “Whiskey, chow now.” Reaper turned to Gabriel and said under his breath, “That’s only used on searches. Sometimes people lay out poisoned food, and we take precautions in our K9s training to keep them safe.”
Gabriel nodded as he watched Whiskey gobble up her food.
“Chow now,” Gabriel repeated in his head.
Reaper bent his legs toward his chest, let his knees fall wide as he encircled them with his arms. He looked down at his watch. “A rescue team is cutting across the mountain. If they keep up their pace, they should be here in another twenty minutes.”
“I don’t know what a rescue team looks like, but if it doesn’t have the mom and dad involved, there’s going to be problems.”
Reaper said, “Yeah, I requested the parents be brought up. That’s about all I can do. They have their own protocol. All searches are crime scenes until that’s ruled out. After we do the handover, our part is done. We leave them to their task, and we’re going to beat it on home. Good deed done. They have two women on that team. It might make the kids feel safer.”
Gabriel didn’t feel like the good deed had been done. He felt like first steps had been taken, and surprisingly, because it was turning out this way—with the kids distant, scared, and in distress that he couldn’t relieve—Gabriel felt no elation.
He’d imagined things differently.
Right now, the kids draped their little bodies over Whiskey, their heavy eyelids drooping.
Another couple of breaths, and they were asleep.
Minutes passed in silence. Gabriel was getting antsy for the rescuers to show up. The tune that Whiskey had howled was an uncomfortable earworm.
He processed what Reaper had said about Whiskey baying on the trail.
“Hey, Reaper, remember when I was asking you about Whiskey howling?” Gabriel said quietly, pulling out his phone and setting the volume to very low. He queued up the video he’d sent to Cathy at midnight and held it out to Reaper.
Reaper blinked at the screen. He played it again. And again.
“I did a search on the song,” Gabriel whispered. “As far as AI can tell, it’sAddio del Passatofrom La Traviata.” He tapped the screen to stop the video. “If it were daylight at the time I taped this, you might recognize that graveyard. Daniel’s buried, there in that corner.”
Reaper gave a whole-body shiver. “Are you serious?”
“Cathy said Daniel played that song while he was in hospice. She thinks Daniel’s involved in that howling. That Daniel might be communicating through Whiskey.” Gabriel licked his lips. “You believe in that stuff?”
“Believe …” Reaper watched the video again. “You know there is so much in this world that I will never understand. I neither believe nor disbelieve. Instead, I witness and stay curious. Now, because I’ve worked with Whiskey since she was weaned from her mom, what you’re describing to me plops solidly in the realm of ‘isn’t that curious?’ There’s bound to be a simple explanation, but we lack all the information.” Reaper handed the phone back to Gabriel. “It’s like those photos you study at work. Me? You hand me a photo and ask for thelocation, and I’d hand it straight back to you without clue one how to get there. You look at the photo, do a little research, and you know exactly where it is. It could seem magical to me, like you home into your sixth sense, an etheric gift.”
“Hardly.”
“Right. There’s an explanation on how you land on the spot. If someone asked, and I’m sure they do when you’re in a court of law to testify, there’s an explanation you can give them other than that you see clearly through your third eye.”
Gabriel grinned. “You know, when I was growing up, my babysitter used to tell us kids that she had eyes behind her head, and she was always watching us. We’d hold up our fingers and say, ‘How many?’ She was right every time. We started to believe her. And we knew we couldn’t get away with anything.”
