but Scott was determined to do it anyway. He welcomed the pain. At least it was more productive than shattering mirrors. “Based on the article in the paper this morning, it sounds like they made a mess of things out there,” he said. And waited.
After about a minute of sitting there together, their consciences at war, Newman sighed and gave in. “Fine. I’ll tell you—but know that it’s against my better judgment. I don’t think it’s relevant or helpful.”
“Noted.”
“If I were asked to do a full review on the situation—which, for the record, I haven’t—I wouldn’t cite human or canine error. At least, not on behalf of the rescue team. I blame the guide more than anything else. He never should have taken those hunters up there in the first place. In that weather? It was too risky.”
That much Scott knew already. A pair of deer hunters had gone missing near Gypsy Peak when yesterday’s storm blew in. At that altitude—the highest on this side of Washington—the snow fell fast and hard, and it was no wonder they’d been separated from their guide.
“From what I can gather, the team found them fairly quickly, thanks in large part to Mara. She picked up on their scent almost immediately, and directed them to an overhang where they managed to take shelter. Unfortunately, the storm picked up again and took them all by surprise. In the rush to get the volunteers and hunters secure before they lost visibility again, Mara went missing.”
Scott had been sitting there with his eyes closed, trying to paint a mental image of the scene, but at that, his eyes flew open. “What did you just say?”
“The winds were too high by that time to bring in a helicopter extraction team, so they had to rendezvous with the snowmobile fleet at one of the ranger stations. It took almost eight hours, and she got lost somewhere along the way.”
“Lost?”
“I know it’s hard, Scott, but these things happen—”
“Last night on the phone you said she was gone. Not lost. Gone.”
“She is gone.”
“No.” Gone implied dead. Gone implied irretrievable. He knew what gone meant. “If they didn’t bring a body back with them—if they didn’t actually witness her death—then she could still be out there.”
Newman caught his meaning before he finished the sentence. “It’s been over twenty-four hours, Scott. The weather forecast is still grim. Even if she did find a place to hide out, the chances of her still being alive—”
“Are just as good as if a human had been left out there. No—better, because she has the instincts to survive.” Scott sprang to his feet, pausing only to glance at the clock hanging on the wall above Newman’s head. Just past four o’clock, which gave him about an hour to get home and formulate a plan before most of the Search and Rescue group got off from their regular jobs. He could call around. Pull together a team. Force the Colville SAR and national park rangers to join him in heading back out there.
“They looked, Scott. They tried. You have to trust that they know what they’re doing.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t have to do. Leave no man behind—that’s rule number one, isn’t it? And they broke it.”
“Actually, rule number one is always listen to your unit leader.”
Scott appreciated the rare show of humor from his friend and mentor, but he wasn’t swayed. It was a long shot, he knew, and it was unthinkable to encroach on another team’s territory like this, but he had to try.
This was Mara they were talking about. Mara, who lived and breathed to make her handler happy, who would do anything—even sit out there alone in the freezing cold, shivering and waiting, her eyes on the horizon for any sign of human life—if she thought that was what was being asked of her.
He almost choked at the way that image hit him, how true it was to her personality, how much of an idiot he’d been to entrust her to anyone else’s care. Predictably, his
After about a minute of sitting there together, their consciences at war, Newman sighed and gave in. “Fine. I’ll tell you—but know that it’s against my better judgment. I don’t think it’s relevant or helpful.”
“Noted.”
“If I were asked to do a full review on the situation—which, for the record, I haven’t—I wouldn’t cite human or canine error. At least, not on behalf of the rescue team. I blame the guide more than anything else. He never should have taken those hunters up there in the first place. In that weather? It was too risky.”
That much Scott knew already. A pair of deer hunters had gone missing near Gypsy Peak when yesterday’s storm blew in. At that altitude—the highest on this side of Washington—the snow fell fast and hard, and it was no wonder they’d been separated from their guide.
“From what I can gather, the team found them fairly quickly, thanks in large part to Mara. She picked up on their scent almost immediately, and directed them to an overhang where they managed to take shelter. Unfortunately, the storm picked up again and took them all by surprise. In the rush to get the volunteers and hunters secure before they lost visibility again, Mara went missing.”
Scott had been sitting there with his eyes closed, trying to paint a mental image of the scene, but at that, his eyes flew open. “What did you just say?”
“The winds were too high by that time to bring in a helicopter extraction team, so they had to rendezvous with the snowmobile fleet at one of the ranger stations. It took almost eight hours, and she got lost somewhere along the way.”
“Lost?”
“I know it’s hard, Scott, but these things happen—”
“Last night on the phone you said she was gone. Not lost. Gone.”
“She is gone.”
“No.” Gone implied dead. Gone implied irretrievable. He knew what gone meant. “If they didn’t bring a body back with them—if they didn’t actually witness her death—then she could still be out there.”
Newman caught his meaning before he finished the sentence. “It’s been over twenty-four hours, Scott. The weather forecast is still grim. Even if she did find a place to hide out, the chances of her still being alive—”
“Are just as good as if a human had been left out there. No—better, because she has the instincts to survive.” Scott sprang to his feet, pausing only to glance at the clock hanging on the wall above Newman’s head. Just past four o’clock, which gave him about an hour to get home and formulate a plan before most of the Search and Rescue group got off from their regular jobs. He could call around. Pull together a team. Force the Colville SAR and national park rangers to join him in heading back out there.
“They looked, Scott. They tried. You have to trust that they know what they’re doing.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t have to do. Leave no man behind—that’s rule number one, isn’t it? And they broke it.”
“Actually, rule number one is always listen to your unit leader.”
Scott appreciated the rare show of humor from his friend and mentor, but he wasn’t swayed. It was a long shot, he knew, and it was unthinkable to encroach on another team’s territory like this, but he had to try.
This was Mara they were talking about. Mara, who lived and breathed to make her handler happy, who would do anything—even sit out there alone in the freezing cold, shivering and waiting, her eyes on the horizon for any sign of human life—if she thought that was what was being asked of her.
He almost choked at the way that image hit him, how true it was to her personality, how much of an idiot he’d been to entrust her to anyone else’s care. Predictably, his
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