Page 10 of Scent of Fear

Oh, she knew he only took rest breaks for the dog’s sake. But she gratefully lowered herself to the earth with a deep sigh. She bent forward to check her ankle. It looked about the same, which she took as a good sign.

“Water?” Shane had filled Bryce’s collapsible bowl, then handed her the bottle. She took a sip, then gave it back.

“Thanks.” Her stomach was rumbling with hunger, but like her sore ankle, she ignored the physical discomfort. What bothered her more was that her grandfather would be hungry for lunch too.

Would the poacher give him anything to eat or drink? Since she had no idea why the guy had taken her grandfather away in the first place, she doubted his comfort was at the top of the poacher’s list of concerns.

“Would you like to share a protein bar?” Shane broke one in half.

“Thanks.” She couldn’t help but smile as he tucked the empty wrapper into his pack. “I’m surprised you don’t have a steak dinner in there.”

He cocked a brow, the corner of his lip turning upward in a half smile. Shane didn’t smile often, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him laugh. Even back in high school, he tended to be the somber, studious type. “I’m not a fan of cold steak.”

She chuckled, despite her worry over her grandfather. “So far, you’ve had just about everything we need in that backpack of yours.”

“That’s the goal.” He nodded. “I only planned for a day hike, though, so I don’t have full camping gear in here. I have that stuff and more in my SUV. We can haul additional equipment as needed the next time we head out.”

“Good.” She gratefully ate her half of the protein bar. The nourishment took the edge off her hunger, which only made her think of her grandfather again. “I hope the poacher doesn’t hurt my grandpa.”

“Me too.” Shane reached over to take her hand. “Try not to worry. I’m confident Bryce will find him.”

She nodded, knowing Bryce was very capable of tracking her grandfather’s scent. The issue was how long that might take? The poacher could have taken her grandfather from the four-wheeler to another vehicle.

And if that was the case, she doubted Bryce or any other dog could track her grandfather’s scent as he was being driven away in a car.

Her stomach churned, and she did her best to shove the pessimistic thoughts away. There was no point in thinking the worst. She would stay positive. She would continue to pray that God would watch over her grandfather while guiding her and Shane and Bryce to the correct location.

Lord Jesus, please keep my grandfather safe in Your loving arms. Amen.

* * *

Shane couldn’t shakethe cloak of apprehension that had settled over his shoulders as he led the way back to Libby’s grandfather’s cabin. Something was way off about this scenario. Elderly men didn’t wander around the woods for a few hours only to be picked up by a poacher riding a four-wheeler.

If not for the broken eyeglasses, and the broken coffee mug and overturned chair on the patio, he’d suspect Marvin Tolliver was a willing participant in—whatever this was. But that didn’t make sense either. If the old man wanted to do something like this, why pick a day he knew his granddaughter was coming?

Shane didn’t like mysteries. Especially ones that involved a missing person. He was anxious to reach out to his siblings for their thoughts.

He checked his compass to make sure he was on track. Bryce would find Marvin’s scent again if he asked, but he didn’t want to set the dog up for disappointment. Marvin wouldn’t be at the cabin, and while he could still reward the K9, he knew the dog preferred to find the people he was tasked to find.

They were making good time, despite Libby’s ankle injury. He had to give her credit, she hadn’t complained once about being in pain. She was pretty and sweet. Maybe once in another life he’d have been interested in seeing her on a personal level. But not anymore. He’d already lost too much.

Dating wasn’t even on his radar these days. And someone like Libby deserved better than a gloom-and-doom guy like him.

He wasn’t as worried about the shooter now that they’d found the four-wheeler tire tracks. Yet he still couldn’t figure out why the idiot had fired shots at them in the first place. It all went back to something fishy going on.

“Your grandfather doesn’t owe anyone money, does he?” It was the only theory that seemed to make any sense.

“Money for what?” Libby asked.

“I don’t know. Gambling debts?” He had no clue what her grandfather did in his free time. “Maybe a poker game got out of hand.”

“I’ve never seen Grandpa playing poker or any other card game. He’s never gone to the Wind River Reservation casino either.” She sounded certain. “I would know if Grandpa owed anyone money. He doesn’t. His cabin is paid off; he uses his social security money to pay his property taxes and living expenses.”

“Okay, I was just asking.”

“I’m sure Grandpa saw the poacher in action and confronted him.” Libby’s tone indicated she was trying to convince both of them that things weren’t as bad as they looked. “Maybe Grandpa did fall and break his glasses, which made the poacher feel bad enough to drive him to safety.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why the poacher shot at them, but he held back. Just because he didn’t share her positive thoughts didn’t mean he wanted to argue over it. Besides, he was afraid they’d learn the truth sooner than later. If the poacher had accidentally killed her grandfather, maybe he’d leave the body somewhere close enough that a hiker might find it.

---