Page 19 of Through the Fire
It was blood, and it was fresh.
Chapter 7
If the blood had been there for longer than a minute or so, it would’ve frozen, leaving it a dull, orangey red. She wondered if it was from an animal, and checked around the area for any tracks. The few dots of blood led to larger blotches in the snow and then to an arc of what appeared to be arterial spray. Her stomach tightened with each new sighting, and she went still as she spotted a trail of prints—boot prints. Her head jerked up as she peered through the trees, mentally cursing the dim light and the shadows that made it too easy for something to hide.
Keeping her eyes on her surroundings, she opened the door and found Justice’s lead by feel. The dog squirmed in excitement as she latched the leash onto the first hook of his harness. After grabbing her new portable radio, she gave him the command to hop out of the truck. Justice immediately snuffled at the blood.
“Justice, find.” She kept her voice low and her gaze focused forward. There were a hundred noncriminal explanations for the blood and the boot prints, like a hunter or an injured hiker. Even so, the strange and eerie silence of her surroundings had her on high alert. It didn’t help that she hadn’t even been in town for a day, and there’d already been a probable arson and murder, but the current situation wasn’t enough to call for backup, she decided. She slid her radio into her coat pocket.
The hound bayed, the sound echoing around them, and Kit flinched. So much for staying quiet, she thought, following Justice as he plunged into the forest. He barked again, the sound drawn out to a howl at the end, and Kit spotted movement through the trees. She ran faster, allowing Justice to tow her forward, and the motion came again. As Justice scrambled over a downed tree and circled a small grove of aspen, Kit was forced to keep her eyes on her footing. When she looked up again, a man stood just thirty feet away. She jerked to a halt, forcing Justice to stop as well.
The man looked to be in his early twenties, and Kit automatically cataloged his features in case she had to describe him later—or find a match in a photo lineup. He stared at her, menace radiating from every line of his body, and Kit felt a chill touch her spine. Her attention caught on the knife in his grip and the streaks of dark red that stained his coveralls and hands.
That’s not a typical, harmless hunter, Kit thought, her muscles coiling with tension. There was something chilling about his dead-eyed expression—something threatening.
“Police! Drop the knife,” she called, keeping her voice calm and commanding. “I just need to talk to you.”
His face twisted into a sneer. “Pig,” he snarled before turning to run.
“Stop!” she shouted, resuming her pursuit. “Police!”
The man ignored the command, speeding up instead. Justice bayed, caught up in the excitement of the chase, and Kit sprinted behind him. The adrenaline already had her heart pumping, and her lungs were hungering for oxygen, but she kept running. Branches whipped across her, scratching her face and catching on her clothes. The ground was rocky and covered in patchy snow, hiding bits of ice that made her slip every few strides. She managed to stay upright, but she worried with every slick patch that it might be the one to bring her down.
The person in front of her moved easily, as if he was accustomed to running through these woods. The trees grew thicker, blocking out most of the sun. It painted strange shapes on the ground, making it hard to tell what was an obstacle and what was merely a shadow. Despite the treacherous footing, Kit pushed her feet to move faster, and Justice happily picked up the pace when the lead slackened.
“Police! Stop!” she yelled again, hating how winded she sounded. She was used to pavement and manicured lawns, not this snowy wilderness. The only sounds she could hear were her own rasping breaths, the crunch of snow under her boots, and the swish of her coat as her arms pumped at her sides. Despite Justice’s presence, the silent, towering pines made her feel small and alone, knowing that backup was miles away. It was up to her to keep herself—and her dog—alive. Shaking off her dark thoughts, she called out again. “Stop! Police!”
The runner didn’t listen. As Kit dodged around a squat pine, the trees thinned, the forest opening up to a flat rock shelf. The man was nowhere in sight. Right in front of them, the ground abruptly ended, falling off into a deep gorge. On the opposite side of the crevasse, a steep cliff rose from the valley. Kit realized that she and her dog were running flat out…right to the edge of a cliff.
Justice was just a few strides away from certain death—and he wasn’t slowing down.
Sucking in a scream, Kit immediately put on the brakes. Her boots slid on the rocky ground, bits of shale and grit rolling like ball bearings under her soles, not giving her any traction. Desperate to stop before hurling herself off the edge of the cliff, she grabbed for a nearby tree branch, but the spindly bough snapped off in her hands. Twisting her body, she reached for a sapling, even as her brain was yelling that it was too small to catch her weight, that its shallow roots were barely clinging to the rocky ground and would pull out at the slightest tug. She clutched it anyway. There was no other option, other than to go hurtling off the edge. It bowed in her grip, and she braced herself for the fall.
Somehow, miraculously, it held. Her body jerked to a stuttering halt right before the sheer drop.
Justice! She hauled on the lead, but she was too late. Justice’s feet scrabbled against the ground, but the rocky surface didn’t offer anything for him to grip, and his momentum carried him over the edge. Trying to think through the panic that was swamping her brain, she sucked in quick, terrified breaths and wrapped the lead around her arm. Holding tight to the sapling that had saved her, she braced for over a hundred pounds of falling dog to hit the end of the leash and drag her over the cliff with him. Even if his harness or lead didn’t snap, there was no way she could keep him from falling when he weighed almost as much as she did. Clenching her molars together until her jaw ached, she prepared for the jolt and her dog’s sharp yelp of pain.
It never came.
No. Oh no.
Releasing the sapling, she scrambled toward the edge, praying that he hadn’t slipped from his harness and knowing deep inside that there couldn’t be any other explanation. He’s fallen. The horrible thought sent a spear of pain through her, and her lungs seized. He had to have fallen. Nothing else made sense. Her wonderful, loving, comical, irreplaceable partner was gone.
She couldn’t take a breath. As she reached the brink, she leaned over the edge, dread and sorrow making her movements stiff and heavy. Forcing herself to look, she tipped forward—and froze.
Justice stood on a ledge only a few feet down from where Kit was standing. He eyed her curiously, as if wondering why they’d stopped. Kit blinked, afraid to believe her eyes, to hope that it was true—her dog hadn’t fallen, hadn’t plummeted hundreds of feet to his death. He didn’t even have a scratch. The trail was tucked right against the cliff, hidden from her vantage point above, but as solid and real as her perfectly healthy and uninjured dog who was now impatiently waiting for Kit to resume the tracking session.
Her knees went watery with relief, and her breath starting coming in hard, ragged sobs. Even though she knew logically that Justice was fine, the rest of her mind was still mired in grief and panic.
Get it together, Kit, her brain reminded her sternly, and she fought to pull herself together. Jumping down next to Justice, she gave him a quick, hard hug, almost breaking down when he licked her ear in response. Releasing him, she stood, sucking in a hard breath and forcing herself to refocus on their current mission.
The armed and bloodstained man already had a lead on them, and she couldn’t delay them any more than she already had. If he hurt anyone because she’d wasted time on what had turned out to be a stupid optical illusion, she wouldn’t forgive herself. Even though there was no way she could’ve known about the ledge, she still felt silly for her panic, and she was glad none of her new partners were here to witness the embarrassing mistake.
“Sorry, Justice.” Her voice shook a little, and she tightened her jaw. “Find!”
He eagerly leapt forward again, and she followed, trying to ignore the shaky weakness in her legs. She couldn’t see movement ahead of them anymore, but she knew that Justice wouldn’t lose the trail, so she concentrated on not getting smacked in the face by a tree branch or slipping on hidden ice.
