Page 17 of Scent of Fear

Bryce eagerly trotted off toward the woods following the same path as he had earlier. The dog didn’t seem to mind that they were retracing steps he’d already taken. Bryce was eager to lead the way.

It was impossible to carry on a conversation over the roar of the engines. The trip was much faster using the ATVs, though, and for that, Shane was grateful. He braked to a stop near the fallen log when Bryce sat and barked his alert.

“Good boy!” He praised the dog and tossed his rubber ducky. Leaving the engine idling, he gestured for Paul to come over. “See this red thread? We think this came from Marvin’s red plaid shirt.”

“I double-checked earlier, and the red shirt is missing from his closet,” Libby said. “I’m sure that’s what he’s wearing.”

“Okay, so we know for sure Marvin got this far,” Paul said.

“Oh, we know he came farther than this.” Shane turned and mounted the four-wheeler. “Let’s go.”

Shane didn’t linger at the second place where Bryce alerted but pushed on. When they reached the clearing where they’d found Marvin’s broken eyeglasses, he stopped. Bryce did his alert again, so he rewarded the K9 and then gestured for Paul to join him.

“See these tire tracks?” He gestured to them. “They’re about the same size as the ones on our machines. I’m sure that’s the engine we heard.”

“I see them.” Paul frowned. “And this is where the glasses were?”

“Yep.” Shane turned and gestured to the path ahead. “I assumed they took off in that direction.” He glanced at Alexis, then added, “I think we should ask Denali and Bryce to keep searching, see if they can pick up the scent trail.”

Alexis nodded and told her collie, Denali, to get down from the four-wheeler. She bent over the dog, speaking softly. With the three engines idling, Shane couldn’t hear her, but he knew she was asking her to find napoo. Rather than using the word dead body, cadaver handlers used napoo which meant finished, done, dead. It was better to use something that most people didn’t recognize, especially when working large disaster scenes.

“Bryce, come.” He waited for his K9 to bring his ducky back. “Good boy. Are you ready? Let’s search! Search Marvin!”

Bryce wheeled toward the path ahead. Not to be outdone, Denali joined him. The two were searching for different scents, hopefully leading to the same person.

“Shouldn’t Alexis have used the scent bag?” Libby asked as he hopped up into the seat and took off to follow Bryce and Denali.

“She used the scent from the clearing,” he lied, avoiding her gaze. Obviously, he’d have to tell Libby the truth eventually. Especially if Denali was successful in finding her grandfather’s remains.

He wanted to pray that they’d find Marvin alive. Too bad God had stopped answering his prayers a long time ago.

“The dogs are amazing,” Libby said in awe, interrupting his dark thoughts.

“Yeah. Good thing they love this game.” He kept his gaze on Bryce. It seemed as if the dog was following Marvin’s scent, which was good. Maybe they would reach the old man in time to save him.

They followed the path for fifteen minutes, covering the distance quicker than he’d anticipated. Then Bryce let out a sharp bark.

Shane’s pulse kicked up as he stopped the four-wheeler and put the machine in park. Then he jumped down to see what had caught Bryce’s attention.

His shepherd stared at him intently, as if Shane could read the dog’s thoughts. He swept his gaze over the ground and saw the indentation of a heel print in the soft earth.

He frowned, trying to imagine why the poacher/gunman/intruder had stopped there with Marvin. He turned and eyed Alexis, who shrugged helplessly as Denali sniffed the area with interest.

But the female border collie didn’t alert the way Bryce had.

“What did he find?” Libby asked.

“Not sure.” Maybe they’d stopped for a bathroom break. It was the only explanation he could come up with. There was nothing but woods surrounding them. No sign of a road or a dwelling that he could see. “Good boy, Bryce. Search! Search for Marvin!”

Bryce dropped his nose to the ground and sniffed for a full minute. Then he trotted forward, moving along the path that was occasionally marked with tire tracks from the four-wheeler the poacher had ridden.

He jumped back behind the wheel and put the machine in gear, anxious to keep up. Denali seemed eager to keep moving, too, and he wished he knew which dog would find Libby’s grandfather.

The trail turned to the right, then headed downhill. They rode for another ten minutes, following Bryce and Denali.

Then Bryce let out a sharp bark. He’d lost sight of the dog for a moment. He drove up and over the edge of a hill, then stopped.

Bryce was sitting on the ground near a two-track dirt road. Denali was nearby but didn’t seem interested in whatever scent had caught Bryce’s attention.

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