Jericho hesitated only a second before straightening. The hat disappeared into his pocket. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Good. This isn’t a job for the weary,” she said.
Jericho glanced at her.
“Go.”
He ran ahead.
She marked the hat’s location on her GPS, then ran to catch up.
The afternoon light filtered through the bare branches, casting blue shadows on the snow that had drifted against the thick trunks of the spruce trees.
Orlando surged forward, and they followed. Somewhere overhead, Air One’s rotors beat a steady rhythm, but here in the trees, the sound was muffled and distant.
She caught up to Jericho.
“How are you so sure?” he asked her as they climbed a small rise. The snow was deeper here, unbroken except for the occasional snowshoe hare trail. “About Orlando. About me.”
Funny. He’d never ... well, the man just didn’t doubt himself.Did he?
“Why?” she asked.
“Just ... I don’t know. Ever since the avalanche...” His mouth made a grim line.
“You blame yourself.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t catch it—the bomb blasting. It was...”
She stopped, caught his arm. “Listen. You’re not omniscient, last I checked.”
He eyed her.
“And besides, right now I need you to be right. I need Orlando to be right.”
He nodded once, something shifting in his eyes. “We will be.”
“Base to Team Three,” Crew’s voice crackled over the radio. “Check in.”
Jericho keyed his mic. “Team Three, heading northwest from the last known point. We found a hat—not sure if it’s a help. Will advise when Orlando finds something.”
When, notif. Good.
They pushed on through the snow, Orlando leading the way. The dog moved with purpose now, weaving between the trees, nose working the air. Whatever he’d found, it had better lead them to her nephew.
She refused to consider anything different.
The wind picked up and then Air One made another pass, so low the downdraft shook snow from the branches.
“The sun’s setting,” Jericho said, and he checked his watch. “We’ve been out here for over an hour.”
She gave him a look.
“Calm down. We’re not giving up.”
The terrain changed gradually—less spruce, more birch, the white bark almost invisible against the snow. The ground sloped up, and Orlando began to follow what might have been an old game trail. Harley’s thighs burned from breaking through the deep snow, but she kept pace with Jericho.
“Base to all teams,” Crew’s voice came through again, tightwith urgency. “Air One’s spotted vehicle tracks heading up toward Miller’s Creek. About two miles northwest of the ditch site.”