Page 2 of Scent of Death (Sullivan K9 Search and Rescue #5)
“Right away.” The radio connection ended, and Griff focused on navigating the highway. Even with pushing the speed limit, he knew he was a solid thirty to forty minutes away.
If he was a praying man like the Sullivan family, he’d pray for Alexis to be safe. But he and God weren’t on speaking terms since he lost his young wife to cancer two years ago. All the prayers in the world hadn’t helped save Grace’s life.
With a frown, he focused on the brief conversation he’d overheard.
Was the body Alexis had found related to the three missing girls he was investigating?
They had no indication of foul play, but three missing teenagers had been enough to raise suspicions related to sex trafficking.
He was tasked with coordinating a statewide response to the missing teenagers, as they were from different areas of the state.
Most recently, a nineteen-year-old by the name of Wendy Evers had been reported missing.
He’d been at a small home on the easternmost side of Greybull to interview the nineteen-year-old’s grandmother, Barbara Evers, who claimed her granddaughter wouldn’t pick up and leave without telling her.
Griff was inclined to believe her.
His radio crackled in his ear. “Griff?”
“Alexis?” He was relieved to hear her voice. “Are you okay?”
“We’re fine, but I don’t know exactly where the shooter is located.” She spoke in a hushed voice, as if she didn’t want anyone to overhear. “I had a weird feeling earlier in the search and heard a branch snapping, but I didn’t see anything unusual, until now.”
“I’m on my way and so is Deputy Paul Holland.” He wished he could fly to her side, but calling Logan or one of the other local pilots for a ride would take too long. Hopefully, he’d reach her very soon. “Can you find a place to hide?”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to get too far from the site where Denali found the human remains.” He heard her murmur reassurances to Denali. “You need to see this, Griff. It looks to me like a recent death. Like within the past week or so.”
“What exactly did Denali find?” His intent was to keep her talking.
Listening to her voice was reassuring, as if nothing could happen while they were on the phone together.
And he’d seen her K9, Denali, in action just a few weeks ago.
All the Sullivan K9 teams were impressive when it came to search and rescue missions.
“Just a hand so far. I can’t tell you if the rest of the body is buried nearby or not. Unfortunately, the gunman has me pinned down.” She sounded frustrated and worried at the same time. “I found some thick foliage, which is helping.”
He would have given anything to be there with her right now. He wanted to ask why she was out there alone in the first place but decided against starting an argument. It was a beautiful, warm summer day, no reason Alexis couldn’t hike in the mountains with her dog.
Except when that dog happens to find human remains and some idiot decides to fire a gun at her.
“I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay.” Alexis ended the call.
Griff managed to reach the location of Alexis’s SUV quickly enough. There was no sign of Holland’s sheriff’s deputy vehicle, but that was too bad. No way was he waiting around while Alexis hid in the woods from a possible murderer.
Hiking to Alexis’s specific location would be the longest part of the trip.
He used his compass to double-check his coordinates, then headed into the woods, moving at a light jog.
He’d been a runner before he’d had knee surgery and knew he could cover more ground this way. As long as he ignored the pain.
“Alexis? Can you hear me?” He used his radio to connect to her satellite phone.
“Yes, I’m here. Where are you?” Her voice sounded louder now. “I haven’t heard anything for a while, so I think the shooter might be gone.”
“Don’t take any chances,” he warned. “Stay where you are. I’ll come to you, okay?”
“Of course, I’ll be careful. I would never put Denali at risk.” She sounded weary. “But I can’t help but wonder if the gunman is related to the hand we found.”
He had a bad feeling that was exactly what was going on. “Listen, Alexis, I’m investigating three missing teenage girls. If that guy is connected to that, you need to stay far away.”
There was a long moment of silence as she digested that bit of news. “How is it that nobody from the ranch has been called out to search for these girls?”
It was a good question. Griff had learned over the past two years that the Sullivans were often called for missing residents even before law enforcement.
Not because the locals were wary of the police, but because the Sullivan family had a stellar reputation.
Their skilled K9s had been used to solve many crimes.
He’d participated in several of them recently. He’d been so impressed he’d put in a request to have a K9 of his own. A request that had been promptly denied.
“I’ll give you more information on them later,” he promised. “I happened to be in Greybull following up on the most recent missing girl when your call came through.”
“I’m glad you were so close,” Alexis said. “I’ll be here waiting.”
“See you soon.” He reluctantly ended the call. He quickened his pace, determined to reach her side sooner rather than later.
If he were honest, he’d admit to having a soft spot for Alexis Sullivan. Not just because she was pretty and smart, although she was both of those things. Compassionate too. No, he was more impressed with her dedication to the Sullivan search and rescue mission.
She was too young for him, though, about six years his junior.
And even if she wasn’t too young, too sweet, and too good for him, he wasn’t interested in opening his heart to love.
Not after losing his wife, Grace. He told himself he cared about Alexis and the other Sullivans as friends.
They were good people, icons in the community.
Yet he couldn’t deny that he’d be devastated if anything happened to Alexis or Denali.
As he ran, he kept a sharp eye out for anything suspicious.
He wasn’t an expert tracker like Chase Sullivan, but when he passed a spot where what appeared to be a freshly broken branch was lying on the ground, he paused and glanced around.
Was this what Alexis had heard? Had the gunman been in this location?
Looking up, he noticed the branch had been low enough that it could have been broken by a tall man.
Or someone wielding a rifle.
Telling himself not to be ridiculous, as there were tons of fallen branches lying on the ground, he pushed forward. Yet he’d noticed that most of the other debris on the ground appeared to have been weathered by the elements—the sun, wind, and rain.
Concern for Alexis had him pushing his injured knee to the limit. After what seemed like forever, but was only twenty minutes or so, he checked his coordinates.
He was getting close. Running through the woods had shortened the time it had taken for him to reach Alexis’s location. He continued pushing forward, and it was another ten minutes later when he heard a voice call out, “Griff? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me.” He belatedly realized she’d been worried he was the gunman. “I’m roughly sixty yards away.”
“I see you,” she said. “Denali alerted me that someone was coming.”
Thank goodness for her K9 , he thought. He knew the border collie wasn’t an attack dog, the way her brother Shane’s German shepherd, Bryce, was. But he had no doubt the dog would protect her against a threat.
Human or otherwise.
He caught a glimpse of Denali’s black and white coat first, then Alexis herself emerged from the trees. He waved at her to stay back, then raised his voice. “FBI! Come out with your hands where I can see them!”
Silence.
Griff hadn’t really anticipated the guy would cooperate in turning himself in, but he tried again. “This is Agent Flannery with the FBI! Come out with your hands resting on your head where I can see them!”
More silence. He wanted to believe that meant the guy was long gone, but he wasn’t willing to bank his life or Alexis’s on that. Still, sometimes alerting the bad guys that he was a federal agent was enough to make them skulk away.
After another long five minutes, he crossed the open meadow to the spot where Alexis and Denali waited in the trees. Thankfully, nobody opened fire on him.
“Hey, Griff.” Alexis offered a weak smile. “Fancy meeting you out here.”
It surprised him how much he wanted to haul her into his arms. He settled for a grin. “Glad to be of service.” Then he sobered. “Where’s the human hand you found?”
“This way.” Alexis turned and led the way to the other side of the meadow. It took her a few minutes to pinpoint the area, but then she gestured. “It’s over there. I tried not to get too close so I wouldn’t disturb what could be a crime scene.”
“Appreciate that.” He glanced over his shoulder, wondering how long it would take for Deputy Paul Holland to get there. Then he carefully approached the clearing. The hand was difficult to see at first because it was bloated and discolored and small lying on the ground.
But as he crept closer, more details became clear. He narrowed his gaze on the splayed fingers. A woman’s hand? When he noticed the flowery vine tattoo encircling the wrist, he immediately knew the victim’s name.
Not Wendy Evers, as he’d anticipated, but the second missing girl, eighteen-year-old Josie Allen. She’d been reported missing by her place of employment four weeks ago. Josie didn’t have any family; she’d moved here from California a year ago, according to the Wooden Hammer bar where she worked.
And Josie had a tattoo just like that in the last photo he had of the young woman. But what didn’t make any sense was that Josie had gone missing from Casper, Wyoming. A city that was a solid four-and-a-half- to five-hour drive from this remote location.
Not good. He’d never imagined that he’d find the remains of Josie Allen here in the Bighorn Mountains.
“What do you think?” Alexis asked. “Are the rest of the remains buried there?”
“Yeah, I believe so.” He sat back on his heels, looking at the loosely packed ground. He was going to need more than one sheriff’s deputy to help him. He’d need a team, including crime scene techs.
But worse than that, Griff grimly realized they weren’t dealing with a human trafficking ring, the way he’d originally thought.
This appeared to be the work of a serial killer.