Page 8 of Scent of Fear

Thoughts of his parents had him glancing up at the bright-blue sky. He hoped that if they were in heaven, that they were proud of the work he and his siblings had done.

The way they’d put the ranch trust to good use.

Libby cried out shortly before she crashed to the ground. He rushed forward. “Are you okay?”

“Twisted my ankle.” She sighed. “I’ll be fine.”

“Bryce, come!” He didn’t want his dog to get too far ahead. When his K9 turned and rushed back to join them, he knelt at Libby’s side. “Let me see.”

“It’s not bad.” She removed her hands so he could examine the injured joint.

Her ankle looked slightly swollen. While not a serious injury, putting additional pressure on the joint could cause the swelling to get worse. “It’s going to hurt if we keep going.”

“I’m not giving up.” Her brown eyes flared with determination. “It’s fine. I promise I won’t slow you down.”

“Yes, you will.” He sighed and shrugged out of his pack. “But we can wrap it for now. I’m warning you, though, I can’t carry you and your grandfather out of here.”

“You won’t have to.” She looked relieved when he pulled out a small first aid kit. “Wow, you’ve thought of everything.”

He arched a brow as he pulled off her shoe and sock. Then he began to lightly wrap her left ankle. “This isn’t my first search and rescue mission.”

“How did you and your siblings decide to do search and rescue anyway?” she asked as he slipped her sock back on to keep the wrap in place.

“We wanted to help find our parents.” He held up her shoe. “Tie this loosely. The goal is to add support without cutting off the circulation to your foot.”

“Got it.” She put the shoe on and tied the laces. He rose to his feet, shouldered the pack, then held out his hand. He helped her stand, watching her critically as she took a few tentative steps.

“Are you sure you don’t want to turn back?” He frowned, knowing he should insist on giving up the search. Libby might be okay for the next few minutes, but they had a long hike back to the cabin.

“I’m sure. My ankle feels fine.” She smiled. “Let’s keep going.”

Pushing aside the apprehension, he turned his attention toward Bryce. “Are you ready to search, boy? Are you? Search! Search for Marvin!”

Bryce eagerly went back to work, sniffing the clearing for a long moment before moving farther east. Shane wondered if they were still on Marvin Tolliver’s property, then decided it didn’t matter. As long as Bryce had the scent, they’d keep following.

Until Libby collapsed from pain and exhaustion. Then he’d have another problem to worry about.

Jess teased him about his tendency to express doom and gloom, but it was hard to remain positive at times like this. The only thing worse than Libby hurting herself would be if his dog got injured.

They walked in silence for the next few minutes. Bryce was still following his scent trail, his tail waving slightly from side to side as he trotted through the woods. Marvin must have sweated a lot while he was moving through the woods because Bryce had not once faltered or double-backed, indicating he’d lost the scent. Easy to imagine Bryce sniffing invisible drops of Marvin’s sweat that had landed on the ground.

Searches in the summer months were generally easier than in the winter. The family tended to be busier in the summer with the influx of tourists. The fall, too, with hunters coming in from out of state to hunt elk.

It wasn’t often that they were called out to search for locals, like Marvin.

Bryce leaped over a fallen log, momentarily disappearing from view. Shane quickened his pace, relieved to see Bryce had landed in a clearing on the other side of the timber.

The dog had his nose pressed into the grass, sniffing intently. Shane glanced around curiously, wondering if Marvin had decided to stop here to rest.

How far had the old man gone anyway? It seemed to him that they should have stumbled across Marvin by now.

Bryce sat and let out a sharp bark. Shane approached with caution, scanning the ground. The grass was pressed down in areas, indicating someone could have been sitting there at some point. He didn’t see any more tufts of red thread or any other indication that Marvin had been there.

But then he spotted it. A pair of broken glasses trampled on the ground.

A cold chill snaked down his spine. He glanced over to see Libby making her way toward them. She wasn’t limping, but she wasn’t moving as fast as she had been either. “Does your grandfather wear glasses?”

“Yes. Why?” Now she quickened her pace. He pointed to the broken glasses and heard her sharp intake of breath. “Those are Grandpa’s glasses.”

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