Page 69 of Operation Rescue
Rafe gave him a quick glance. “She’d like to meet you, too.” His mouth quirked. “She might even like to thank you.”
They trekked, Cutter never wavering, forging on. And when he looked ahead of the dog, Blaine could see traces of passage, a footprint here, a broken branch there, all looking fairly fresh. He wondered if the failed robbery attempt had convinced them to lie low for a while.
He also wondered what they were eating. Wondered if there was some grocery store in town questioning where half their supply of that darned sugary cereal Ethan loved had gone.
You don’t even know if he still eats the stuff.
He smothered a sigh. Sometimes that was what he hated most, that he didn’t know his own son’s tastes and habits anymore. He’d thought he would always know all of those things, as he had known them up until the day Erin had walked out on him. Yes, he’d been gone, on deployment for months at a time, but he’d been luckier than some and never completely out of touch for more than a day or two. And when he was home he focused completely on his family.
He had, perhaps foolishly, assumed that the mathematical fact that he spent more cumulative hours with them than most nine-to-five guys would make up for the times when he was gone altogether.
They kept going, as he wondered just how far back in these kids had gone. He tried to picture Ethan, overlaying the latest photo Erin had, which was newer than his own, trekking out here through the brush and occasional oak tree. The Ethan he remembered would have been excited to see the wildlife, like that deer that had scooted away from its tasty meal of leaves when they got too close, the skunk that had thankfully waddled away, or that coyote that had trailed them for a while, until apparently deciding they weren’t worth his time and Cutter was no kin. He saw tracks of others, including some he was fairly sure were from one of the cougars that lived here, and hoped they hadn’t become so accustomed to humans they wouldn’t stay clear.
He was startled out of his thoughts when Erin, who was a couple of steps ahead of him, suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him to one side. He gave her a startled look.
“Rattlesnake,” she whispered. “One of the red ones, with the black-and-white tail above the rattle.”
He couldn’t, never had been able to stop the shiver that went through him. He’d been bitten by a snake as a toddler, and it had left him with an instinctive fear so deeply ingrained he’d given up trying to fight it.
He’d gotten better about the nonvenomous ones over the years, with Erin’s help. She was just normally wary, and actually interested in the beasts that weren’t poisonous. She even liked a few of them. But one sound of that rattle and his nerves were buzzing crazily.
“It was headed away,” she assured him, “but I didn’t want you to freak if you saw it.”
He grimaced. “And I would have. Never have beaten that one.”
She just slid her arm around his waist and gave him a hug. God, he’d missed this. The quiet understanding, the knowing each other so well, the sweetly teasing way she’d always said, “Even you have to be afraid ofsomething.”
His mind wanted to rocket into the future, into pictures of them putting it back together, as Rafe and his Charlie had. But he reined it in, knowing nothing, not even that, could take precedence over what they had to do now.
And if he failed in this task, nothing else ever would.
Even as he made that mental vow to concentrate on nothing but Ethan, Cutter let out a short, low sound, not a bark or a growl, but something that sounded oddly like a gruff whistle. The dog had slowed as well, and Blaine saw he was no longer searching the ground for the scent he’d been following, but had stretched his head out, holding it up slightly.
Then Cutter stopped dead, his head went up further, and Blaine saw that incredibly sensitive canine nose twitching. And suddenly it hit him, what had happened. The Foxworth dog was no longer following a trail on the ground. He was picking up the scent in the air. Which meant…the quarry had to be close.
Ethan had to be close.
And then that crazily brilliant dog sat. He stared up at Rafe, who clearly understood. “Got it,” he whispered to the animal.
Blaine scanned the area, looking for some higher ground. At this time of year the foliage wasn’t as thick as it could be, and he wanted to use that.
“What now?” Erin asked, her whisper even quieter now, telling him she too had understood what Cutter’s actions meant.
He’d found his spot, a small rise just to the west. “I want to get up there, where I can see better.”
“I was thinking there,” she said, pointing toward a rather similar place in the opposite direction.
“Good idea, cover both,” Rafe said just as quietly. “Cutter and I will hold watch here. Just stay silent. If you spot something, double-click on walkie-talkie button on the phone, don’t speak. Whoever didn’t signal, head back here.”
They both nodded. “Glad I brought these,” Erin murmured, reaching for the binoculars.
“Me, too,” Blaine whispered back and, unable to stop himself, leaned over and kissed her. A light, quick brush of his lips, but at the way she blushed he wasn’t sorry. And spared a split second for the time when they could lay this all out and see what they had. See if they could rebuild.
When he got to the top of the rise he was both glad and disappointed. He could see, as he’d hoped, down into the small gorge that headed south, but it was empty. At least of humans, and there was no sign any human life had ever intruded. He thought he saw a coyote moving through the brush on the other side, and wondered if that meant there were no humans around. Then again, coyotes these days adapted so well to the human invaders it probably welcomed them and all the goodies they lugged around when in places like this.
He moved slightly, but the underbrush was too thick to penetrate without making noise. The dense stand of prickly pear cactus was a factor, too. He could work his way around—
Two short, sharp spits of static from the phone in his shirt pocket froze him in place.
