Page 2 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
“It’s still pretty sleepy,” the chief said as he wrote.
“There’s been a huge jump in crime.” Mrs. Lin folded her arms over her narrow chest and glared.
The chief didn’t seem to feel her laser-like stare burning holes in his downturned head. “Not really,” he said.
“Thereiscrime, Chief Rodriguez.” Mrs. Lin’s voice was frosty. “What about the felon who took Misty Lincoln’s lawn furniture?”
“That was her ex-husband.” The chief finally looked up from his notes. “And I believe he’d been awarded it in the divorce.” Mrs. Lin huffed, but he spoke again before she could start rattling off any other local crimes. “Do you know where Camille was headed?”
Although she held her glare for a few moments, Mrs. Lin finally let it go. “Probably to find all sorts of trash for her…things.” Mrs. Lin gestured vaguely in the direction of Camille’s house.
Her…things?Steve opened his mouth to ask for clarification when the chief flipped his notebook closed. “Did you try calling her?”
“Of course. It goes to her voicemail—herfullvoicemail, so I couldn’t even leave a message.”
The chief moved to open the door. “Give the dispatcher a call if you spot her or if she calls you back.”
Mrs. Lin gave them a tight nod as they left her house and walked toward Camille’s. Steve kept an eye out for any footprints, but he had to concur with Mrs. Lin on that. The only things he spotted were some blurry indentations leading away from the house. He assumed they were from when Camille had left. Her elderly car was parked on the street, covered by a light blanket of fresh snow.
“I’m still not sure why you’re so certain she’s not with a friend,” Steve said as he climbed the front steps and pounded on her door. There was just the silence of an empty house on the other side.
“Camille’s not really the drop-in-on-friends sort,” the chief said absently, peering into a window. “The few times I’ve seen her out in public have been at odd hours, times when she didn’t think many other people would be out and about, I’m assuming. She’s not exactly the town hermit—that’s your brother Joe—but she’s pretty close to earning the top spot.”
Knocking one final time, Steve considered that. It didn’t seem to fit the Camille he remembered. Sure, she was shy, but she’d been sweet, too, and pretty enough to stick in his head, even though she’d been three grades below him. When he thought of a hermit, he pictured someone cranky and sour. Camille Brandt had either changed a lot since high school, or the chief was exaggerating.
As they knocked on the side door that led into her workshop, Nate’s pickup pulled up behind the rescue. His brother climbed out, and Steve waved him over. He noticed Nate’s slight limp as he hurried to join them and felt a twinge of concern that he kept to himself, knowing his brother wouldn’t appreciate the fussing. Nate had twisted his ankle while turning horses out into the pasture a few days earlier, and he’d refused to have it checked out. Ryan, another of Steve’s brothers, climbed out of the passenger side of the truck and followed Nate. Even though Ryan wasn’t officially a member of Search and Rescue or the fire department, Steve wasn’t surprised to see him. Ryan always loved being where the action was.
“Camille’s missing?” Nate asked as he reached them, zipping his coat a little higher. Steve couldn’t blame him. The wind was vicious today.
“According to Mrs. Lin, she headed into the woods yesterday morning and hasn’t returned,” the chief summarized, waving toward the trees across the street. More vehicles arrived, and deputies, firefighters, and Search and Rescue members joined their growing huddle. As he hunched against the stinging assault of snow and wind, Steve eyed the trees, antsy to start searching.
The chief handed the scene over to a woman from Search and Rescue that Steve didn’t recognize. She introduced herself as Sasha and quickly divided everyone into teams. Steve, the chief, Ryan, and Nate were together.
“Betsy will be here in about ten minutes with her tracking dog,” Sasha said in a loud, clear voice that managed to carry over the wind. “I don’t want to wait for them to arrive before we start searching, though…not with dusk approaching and the temperature dropping like it is.”
Steve was glad for that. He was antsy enough with the delay as it was. Every search reminded him of when his two girls had been lost in the mountains, and the memory of those horrifying hours still hit him like a punch to the gut at times like these. The idea of someone—especially shy, sweet Camille—being caught in the frozen night, alone and afraid, made his stomach churn with worry. He needed to get out there and start searching for her. With the temperature dropping and the wind picking up, each minute could be critical.
The teams spread out and started making their way through the trees, calling for Camille. Their voices were quickly snatched away, dulled by the thick forest and the now-roaring wind. The trees creaked ominously, threatening to drop thick branches on their heads, and Steve moved a bit more quickly.
The sun was slipping toward the mountain peaks, and the light cast strange shadows. Steve’s pulse kept leaping every time he caught a glimpse of a promising shape, and disappointment caught him after each false alarm. The searchers spread out, the space between the chief, Steve, and his brothers gradually increasing until the only sounds were the crunch of snow beneath his boots and his voice calling for Camille in the gathering dusk.
He held an image of her face in his mind from when they’d both been teenagers. She’d been so delicate-looking. It was hard to imagine her surviving a few hours in the snowy wilderness, much less a whole night. A fresh sense of urgency pushed him to move faster.
“Camille!” he called, raising his voice so it would carry over the wailing wind. He paused to listen, but there was no response—at least none that he could hear. Steve pressed on, tromping around trees and through snowy brush that threatened to trip him. Evergreen branches scraped against the heavy fabric of his borrowed bunker gear, showering him with their layer of snow. He drew a breath to yell for Camille again, but a distant yelp made him whip his head around as he realized the muted cry of pain had come from Nate. Steve turned and hurried through the trees to his brother’s side. “You okay?”
“Fine.” He didn’t sound fine, and his face was drawn with pain. “Just took a bad step.”
“Do you need to head back?” Steve asked, watching closely as Nate lowered his foot to the ground. As soon as he put weight on it, he grimaced but waved Steve off.
The chief joined them. “Everything okay?”
“His ankle’s bothering him,” Steve said. “I’ll help him back to the staging area.”
“No, he’sfineand going to continue searching,” Nate gritted out, limping away.
“What’s up?” Ryan called through the trees. “Something wrong?”
“We’re good!” Steve called back, even as he exchanged a concerned look with the chief. He knew there was no point in fighting Nate on this. His brother was stubborn and took his search-and-rescue duties too seriously to give up without a fight—something that, in this case, would waste precious time.
