Page 17

Chapter One

Libby Tolliver shifted the bag of groceries in her arms so she could open the door to her grandfather’s cabin. “Grandpa? It’s Libby.”

Her sixty-nine-year-old grandfather wasn’t in the kitchen or living room from what she could see. She frowned as she strode to the kitchen to drop the bag of groceries on the counter. “Grandpa?” Her grandfather was usually up and about by now, despite his arthritic hips. She turned and headed down the hallway to the two bedrooms. Her grandfather, Marvin Tolliver, wasn’t in the main bedroom, the guest room she used when she came to visit, or the bathroom.

An icy finger of concern snaked down her spine. Her grandpa wasn’t prone to wandering around, but maybe something outside had caught his attention. As it was early June in Wyoming, the weather was mild. She swung open the patio door, then abruptly stopped.

One of two patio chairs was overturned, and there was a broken ceramic mug lying on the ground with a dark stain of what appeared to be spilled coffee. Her heart jumped in her throat as she frantically scanned the backyard.

“Grandpa!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “Grandpa, it’s Libby! Are you okay?”

She didn’t see or hear anything. Libby pulled her phone from her pocket and called the Sullivan K9 Search and Rescue Ranch. She’d known Shane Sullivan in high school; he was a year ahead of her. Libby and Shane had never dated. Shane had been seeing a girl named Rebecca Yost, and there had been rumors of a possible engagement. Then Rebecca had died in a terrible car crash, and Shane had taken the loss hard. Especially since it was only a few years later that he’d lost his parents too.

Still, she knew Shane and the rest of his siblings had turned their parents’ former glamorous dude ranch into a large K9 search and rescue operation. Libby held herself together with an effort as she waited for the call to go through.

“This is Anna. You’ve reached the Sullivan K9 Search and Rescue Ranch,” a pleasant voice said.

“My name is Libby Tolliver. I’m looking for Shane. We went to high school together. My grandfather, Marvin Tolliver, is missing. He...” Her voice faltered for a moment. “It looks like he may have left under duress. Or ran into the woods because he was scared.” That didn’t sound like her tough-as-nails grandfather, but she couldn’t imagine another scenario. “All I know for sure is that he’s missing, and I need someone to come search for him.”

“I’ll send Shane and his K9 Bryce right away,” Anna assured her. “What’s the address?”

“My grandfather lives a few miles east of Greybull,” Libby said, and provided the exact address. “How long will it take for Shane to get here?”

“I’m not sure, but he’ll get to your location as soon as possible.”

“Okay, thank you.” She ended the call, then headed back into the kitchen to put the perishable items she’d purchased in the fridge and freezer before heading back outside to the patio. It occurred to her that she should notify the police.

As she pulled out her phone to make the call, it rang. She quickly answered. “Hello?”

“Libby? It’s Shane. I’m halfway between Cody and Greybull and should be there soon. What happened?” Shane’s gruff voice helped soothe her nerves.

“I don’t know exactly.” She stared off at the woods that stretched toward the mountains. “I grocery shop for my grandfather on Saturdays, but he wasn’t here when I arrived. One of the patio chairs is lying on its side, and his coffee mug is broken on the concrete.” She tried to maintain a positive attitude. “Maybe he saw something amazing and rushed out to get a closer look at it.”

“Really?” Shane’s voice was thick with doubt.

She tried not to sigh. “I don’t know, but I’ll head out to start searching. My grandfather has an arthritic hip, so I’m worried he may have fallen. Just get here soon, okay?”

“I will but don’t head out yet. Wait for me. Oh, and gather some of your grandfather’s recently worn clothing together. Bryce will use them as a scent source.”

“I can do that.” Libby normally did her grandfather’s laundry on Saturdays, too, so she knew there would be a full hamper to choose from. She didn’t like the idea of waiting, but it helped her to know he was closer than she’d expected. “Thanks, Shane.”

“I’ll be there ASAP.” He ended the call without saying anything more.

Libby hurried down the hall to her grandpa’s room and hauled the hamper of dirty clothes into the living room. Then she headed back outside, giving the patio a wide berth to head toward the woods.

“Grandpa? Grandpa, it’s Libby! Can you hear me?” Hearing nothing, she fought to remain calm. If her grandfather had fallen, he might have hit his head and lost consciousness. “Grandpa! We’re coming to find you! Don’t worry, we’ll find you!”

Still no response. Sweeping her gaze over the area, she tried to figure out which path her grandfather had taken. It was a foolish attempt on her part because she had no experience with hunting or tracking. The smart thing to do would have been to wait for Shane and his dog.

Yet she didn’t immediately turn back toward the cabin. Realizing she still hadn’t called the police, she pulled her phone out again.

But after staring at the screen for a long moment, she tucked the device back into her pocket. Maybe it was better to wait. A tipped-over chair and broken mug didn’t really indicate a crime had taken place. Especially way out here in the middle of nowhere. The more she considered that, the less likely she believed he’d been taken away by force. Maybe her grandfather had been startled by something, maybe a bear or some other wild animal, jumped to his feet, and then... went to see the animal up close?

She winced. Maybe not. Her grandfather could have simply wandered off. He could have fallen off his chair, broken his cup, and gotten angry with himself, so he’d gone into the woods. Or he’d been confused. She’d noticed his memory wasn’t what it used to be.

“Grandpa? Can you hear me?”

The silence was deafening. Libby ran her fingers through her reddish hair and reluctantly turned to head back to the cabin.

After what seemed like forever, she heard the rumble of an approaching car. She hurried out front, watching as a black SUV bounced up the driveway. Shane stopped behind her red pickup truck and slid out from behind the wheel. He was tall and lean, with dark-brown hair and mesmerizing blue eyes. He gave her a nod as the back hatch sprung open, and a huge German shepherd bounded out. Libby took a hasty step backward, fearing the dog would charge toward her.

“Bryce, heel,” Shane commanded.

The dog whirled and went straight to Shane’s side. The large black and tan dog sat and stared up at him expectantly.

“Good boy,” Shane murmured. He raised his gaze to her. “Come closer, Libby. I want Bryce to know you’re a friend.”

Swallowing against a knot of fear, she crossed over to join them. Shane reached out for her hand, then brought it toward his dog’s snout. “Friend, Bryce. Libby is a friend.”

Bryce sniffed her fingers with interest, then gazed at her with his dark-brown eyes. His tail swished over the ground, but up close, the dog was still intimidating. She offered a weak smile. “Good doggy. No biting, okay?”

“Bryce won’t bite you.” Shane frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of dogs?”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” She tugged her hand free and stepped back. “Not afraid exactly, just wary. I was bitten by a dog as a kid.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I promise you don’t have to be afraid of Bryce. He won’t bite except on my command.” As she was wondering how often he’d commanded his dog to bite, Shane turned to head toward the rear hatch of his vehicle. “Let me get Bryce ready and we’ll start the search. Do you have your grandfather’s clothes?” At her nod, he continued. “If you could place a few items in a plastic bag, that would be good. Dirty socks work well and so do recently worn T-shirts.”

Grateful for something to do, she said, “I’ll get them.”

A few minutes later, she returned to find Bryce wearing a K9 vest strapped around his torso. Shane had a large backpack slung over his shoulders and was chattering with the dog, asking if he was ready to play the search game. Bryce stared up at Shane, his tail wagging with excitement.

“Here.” She handed him the bag containing four pairs of her grandfather’s dirty socks and a worn T-shirt, trying not to get too close to Bryce.

“Thanks. You mentioned arthritis?” Shane arched a brow. “Any other medical issues I need to know about?”

“He’s been a little more forgetful than usual,” she admitted. “But he’s sixty-nine and will be seventy in November. I figure that’s just part of getting older, right?”

“Maybe.” Shane was noncommittal. “What’s your grandfather’s name?”

“Marvin.”

“Okay, thanks.” He filled a collapsible bowl with water and set it before Bryce. The dog lowered his head, took a few laps of water, then stared up at Shane again. “Good boy, are you ready to search? Here, this is Marvin.” Shane opened the bag of clothes. Bryce eagerly buried his snout in the clothing. “Marvin, Bryce. Search! Search for Marvin!”

After one last sniff in the bag, Bryce lifted his nose to the air, then turned and trotted toward the cabin. Shane hurried after his dog. Libby picked up her pace, too, already encouraged by Shane’s professional approach to the search.

She was confident Shane and Bryce would find her grandfather. The Sullivans had an amazing reputation for success. Everyone in the area sang their praises. This would work. She refused to consider the alternative.

Hang on, Grandpa! We’re coming!

*

Shane was far too aware of Libby beside him. Doing his best to ignore her flowery scent, he gave his K9 Bryce plenty of room to work. He hadn’t seen Libby in years, but she looked the same as he remembered. Her auburn hair was wavy and loose, the ends touching her shoulders, and the sprinkling of freckles across her nose made her look as young as she had been back in high school.

She was cute in the girl-next-door kind of way.

Not that he was interested in anything other than finding her grandfather. Just because his oldest siblings were falling in love left and right didn’t mean he was joining the club. The girl he’d loved had died years ago. He wasn’t interested in trying again.

Pushing thoughts of Libby and Rebecca from his mind, he focused on the mission at hand. At sixty-nine, Marvin Tolliver wasn’t that old, but having arthritis meant the guy could have fallen and was right now lying out in the woods, unconscious.

If so, Bryce would find him.

Bryce trotted around the rustic log cabin, not unlike the one Shane lived in on the Sullivan ranch, then abruptly stopped and sniffed intently along the patio near the overturned chair. Shane wasn’t surprised when Bryce sat and let out a sharp bark, staring at him.

“Good boy, Bryce.” He had Bryce’s yellow rubber ducky in his pocket but didn’t bring out the reward just yet. This was only the beginning of their game, and he wouldn’t reward his K9 until they were further along in the process. “Search! Search for Marvin!”

Bryce eagerly jumped back into the search, sniffing the concrete patio, then trotting out over the grassy lawn toward the woods.

As they followed, he glanced at Libby. “Any idea how long your grandfather has been gone?”

She bit her lip. “Not really. He usually gets up around seven in the morning and eats breakfast, then has his coffee. He sits on the patio when the weather is nice.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s ten thirty, which means he could have left the patio a few hours ago.”

“When’s the last time you spoke to him?”

“Last night. I told him I’d be out this morning as usual.” She sighed. “I do his grocery shopping every Saturday and then stay long enough to visit while doing his laundry. Grandpa can take care of himself, but I like seeing him each week. I’d drive over more often if I didn’t have to work in the hospital billing department Monday through Friday. I’ve tried to encourage him to move to Cody, but he won’t.” There was a slight pause, before she added, “After this, I’ll have to insist he move in with me. He won’t like it, but obviously, he can’t stay way out here by himself any longer.”

He understood her concern. His attention swung toward Bryce. His K9 was sniffing intently as he moved through the woods, indicating he was hot on the scent. Shane quickened his pace to keep up, unwilling to lose sight of his K9. He and Bryce had been through many searches together. They worked best as a team.

Libby hurried forward too.

“If you need to head back to the cabin, that’s fine.” He glanced at Libby, then nodded at Bryce. “I’ll call you when we find him.”

“I’m sticking with you.” She sounded a little breathless. “And I appreciate your positive attitude.”

He hid a grimace. He wasn’t a positive attitude kind of guy. His sisters teased him for his doom-and-gloom approach to life, and he couldn’t deny his tendency to expect the worst. But he didn’t want to worry Libby any more than she already was. Deep down, he suspected that her grandfather was probably hurt in some way, otherwise he’d have come back to the cabin under his own power.

At this point, the best Shane could hope for was that they found Marvin alive.

Not dead.

He glanced at his watch. During the summer months, they made sure to take frequent water breaks to prevent the dogs from becoming dehydrated. Shane decided they’d walk for twenty minutes before stopping to rest.

“How do you know Bryce is following my grandfather’s scent?” Libby asked. “I mean, he just seems to be randomly trotting through the brush.”

“Bryce is a good tracker.” He had confidence in his dog’s ability. “If he lost the trail, he’d stop moving forward, turn around, and come back to the last point he’d located the scent.”

“Okay, that helps.” Libby’s smile was sad. “I pray we find him soon.”

Shane nodded, then narrowed his gaze as Bryce abruptly stopped near a fallen tree. His K9 sniffed intently around the log, then sat and let out a sharp bark. Bryce held Shane’s gaze as if to say “I found him.”

“Is that an alert?” Libby asked, as Shane hurried over to his dog.

Shane scanned the ground beneath the fallen tree. The dry dirt didn’t reveal any footprints, but Bryce had alerted there for a reason.

Had Marvin stopped there to rest? Or had he tripped and fallen? Maybe the old man was confused and managed to get up and continue his wandering path through the woods.

Then his gaze spotted a fuzzy red thread clinging to a spike branch of the fallen log. He glanced at Libby. “Do you have any idea what your grandfather is wearing?”

She looked confused. “Jeans, hiking boots, and a plaid shirt, most likely along with a cowboy hat. Why?”

“What color would his plaid shirt be?” Remembering she hadn’t seen him that morning, he added, “Maybe a favorite color?”

“He has plaid shirts in just about every color—blue, green, red, and brown.” She frowned. “Not black, though. And no light gray either.”

The red thread could have been left by anyone at any time, yet Shane trusted Bryce’s alert. “There’s a red thread here.”

Libby came up to stand beside him. Then she nodded slowly. “I don’t remember seeing the red plaid shirt in his laundry basket, so he could be wearing it.”

He nodded, then turned his attention to Bryce. “Good boy!” He pulled the yellow ducky from his pocket and tossed it into the air. “Good boy!”

Bryce ran after the ducky with excitement. He shook his head from side to side as he galloped through the brush. Watching his K9 play with his reward usually made Shane smile.

But he couldn’t quite get rid of the niggling sense of concern. The overturned chair and the broken coffee mug indicated he’d been taken by surprise. And that surprise had—what? Caused him to take a walk in the woods?

Could Libby be right about something catching his attention enough to draw him away from the cabin and into the forest?

That theory didn’t make sense. Libby’s grandfather knew she was coming out to bring him groceries for the week. Marvin wouldn’t just decide to take a day hike through the woods without waiting for her.

Unless the old man’s memory was worse than Libby had indicated.

“Shane, I don’t understand why you’re playing with Bryce when we need to keep looking for my grandfather.” She looked annoyed.

“I need to reward Bryce for the find; besides, it’s time to give him more water.” Since they’d already stopped there, Shane shrugged out of his backpack and set it on the ground. He filled the collapsible bowl with water. “Bryce, come.”

The dog galloped toward him.

“Hand.” Shane held out his hand for the yellow ducky. Bryce obediently regurgitated it into his palm, then lowered his head to lap at the water.

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Libby murmured, her previous annoyance having dissipated. “I can’t believe he just hands over his toys.”

“He’s a good boy.” Shane ruffled Bryce’s fur. The dog’s tail wagged as if in agreement. He held Bryce’s gaze. “Sit.” The shepherd lowered his back haunches. “Lie down.” Now Bryce lowered the rest of his body so that he was stretched across the ground near the fallen log. “Good boy,” he praised again.

Bryce understood this was a rest break. The Sullivan K9s were well trained and had done this often enough that they understood the routine. The only dog that tended to balk at orders was Chase’s K9, Rocky.

Rocky’s independent streak was a source of amusement for the rest of the siblings, mostly because Chase was the second oldest of the family and accustomed to being in charge. Rocky had a way of humbling their sometimes-bossy brother.

“I wish I understood why Grandpa came this way.” Libby’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “I wonder if he was following a wounded animal.” Her eyes widened. “Maybe he saw a poacher and was determined to get proof to provide to the local game warden.”

“Maybe.” He figured that theory was slightly better than the idea that the old man had decided to take a hike. “I haven’t noticed any animal blood as we moved through the woods, though.”

“I wasn’t paying attention.” She flushed. “I should have thought of that sooner.”

“It doesn’t matter. Bryce will follow your grandfather’s scent, not that of a wounded animal.” He stroked a hand over Bryce’s fur. “Dogs can distinguish between four million scents. Bryce will know a wild animal is nearby, but he’ll stay focused on the search command I’ve given him.”

“Wow.” Libby looked at the dog with renewed respect. “That’s amazing.”

“Yeah.” He emptied the water from the collapsible dish and tucked it away. “Ready, Bryce? Search! Search for Marvin!”

Bryce jumped to his feet without hesitation. The K9 sniffed near the fallen log, then began following the scent trail heading in a northeastern direction.

“How much land does your grandfather own?” He scanned the wilderness around them. “I’m just wondering if we’ll end up trespassing on someone else’s property.”

“Grandpa owns about ten acres. The rest is public land. The Bighorn national park is a few miles from here too. That’s federal land.” She frowned. “It’s all a little confusing to me. I guess everyone is supposed to know where the boundaries are located. Grandpa has complained about hunters being on his property, though.”

“He’s had trouble with the locals trespassing and hunting his land?” He was intrigued by the idea of a poacher or two drawing her grandfather into the woods. Most hunters went out in pairs because an elk was too big for one man to haul out on his own.

Not that June was hunting season for elk or other big game.

“Not recently.” Libby shrugged. “The last time he mentioned it was maybe two years ago. And I still think the hunters probably crossed the property line by mistake. Grandpa hasn’t put up no hunting signs warning them away, so there’s no way they could know they were trespassing.”

“Yeah, but hunters are supposed to know where they can and can’t hunt. Maybe he did hear a pair of poachers. A gunshot could have startled him enough to drop his coffee.” Shane quickened his pace as Bryce followed the scent trail. “Maybe he jumped up, kicking the chair over, to yell at them.”

“That could be, but where is he now?” Libby’s wide brown eyes were filled with concern. “Grandpa would answer us if he could.”

Shane nodded. “I’m sure he would.”

They followed in Bryce’s wake for the next ten minutes. They were heading deeper into the woods now, and that was starting to worry him. How far would Marvin go to nab a poacher? Especially if he had arthritis in his hip?

Bryce jumped over a downed tree. The dog liked to run and jump, which meant Shane had to do the same.

“Hurry,” he urged Libby. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“Don’t worry. I’m coming.” She gamely climbed up and over the log. “Why doesn’t your dog take a straight—” Her comment was cut off by the crack of gunfire.

“Down!” Shane grabbed Libby’s hand and yanked her down. “Bryce!” His shout was strangled. “Bryce, come!”

His breath froze in his throat as he waited for his K9 to return. The gunfire may prove their theory about poachers drawing her grandfather into the woods, but why would a hunter shoot at them?

Shane had a bad feeling that there was more going on here than Libby’s missing grandfather. And he didn’t like knowing he, Libby, and Bryce were in danger.