"This is the bush though. One mistake can be deadly." Libby popped a piece of donut into her mouth. A hint of color began to come back to her face.

"We'll find her." Haley put all the confidence she could muster into the statement.

"Would you pray with me?" Libby whispered. "I'm so scared."

Haley couldn't tell her prayer would do no good. Libby needed encouragement now, not derision. "Okay," she said. "I'm not good at praying though." G.o.d hadn't listened to her before. She held no hope that he would this time either, unless he loved Libby more. And he might. Libby had done nothing wrong. This wasn't her fault.

Libby took her hands. "Can you do the praying? Every time I try to pray, the thoughts jumble in my head."

"I haven't prayed in years," she said.

Tears pooled in Libby's eyes. "Please try," she whispered.

Haley hung onto Libby's hands for dear life. "G.o.d, help us find Brooke and Joy. You know where they are. Keep them safe and lead us to them. Amen."

"Amen," Libby said in a choked voice. "Be with them, Jesus." She wiped at her eyes. "Thanks, Haley. I feel like I can tell you anything."

Haley pointed to their right. "Let's go back to the truck. The searchers should be here with their dogs shortly, and we can direct them." Chickadees twittered above her head. Something squealed in the air, and she looked up to see a mouse caught in a peregrine falcon's talons. The bird soared on the thermal currents, then disappeared from sight. Haley shivered. She hoped it wasn't an omen. She turned her gaze back to the ground and moved carefully over the thick carpet of spruce needles. The ground wasn't quite so uneven here, and her gait was more sure and steady.

"I noticed you limping," Libby said. "Are you okay?"

"It's hard for me to walk on uneven ground," Haley said. It had been so long since anyone had noticed she wasn't quite whole, and now the whole state seemed to know. In the city, she wore smart slacks and boots. She walked surely on hard pavement without a limp.

"Do you want to sit and rest?"

"I'm okay. We need to keep moving."

"Want me to carry your camera?"

Haley put a protective hand over her camera. "No, I'll keep it. You can carry my bag if you want." She handed it to Libby.

Libby slung the bag over her shoulder. She paused and put her hand on Haley's arm. "Listen! I hear dogs."

Haley heard a bark, then several more. And voices.

"The search teams must be here." She picked up her pace. They thrashed through the brambles and stumbled out onto the narrow lane. Two trucks and an SUV were parked behind the truck, and several people cl.u.s.tered together near the bed. They had dogs on leashes.

The pet.i.te young woman with dark red hair and green eyes whom she'd met at the wiener-dog race stepped forward to meet them. Her dog, a mix that looked like mostly German shepherd, moved with her.

He sniffed the air and looked keenly around. "Bree Matthews," she said. "We met at the race. It's your child that's missing?"

"My sister is one of the children. The other is Libby's five-year-old niece." She introduced Bree to Libby.

"This is Samson," Bree said. She dusted pistachio sh.e.l.ls from her hands onto the ground. "What can you tell me about the children?"

"We think they were taken by Brooke's aunt, and now all of them are missing in the bush," Libby said.

A stalwart young man with kind blue eyes moved behind Bree. "I'm Kade Matthews. Do you have an article that belongs to either of the girls? We'll get right to work."

"Any special kind of article?" Libby asked.

"An unwashed sock or something that would be worn close to the body," Kade said. "Don't touch it. Put your hand inside a plastic bag to pick it up, then drop it in a paper bag."

"I'll get it." Libby turned and jumped into the truck then sped off toward the cabin.

"There might be some articles in the Jeep that belong to the woman. Would that work?"

"Do you want the dogs to sniff for the woman or the children?" Bree asked.

"They should be together."

"We could put the other dogs on the woman. Samson can work off the freshest scent with the little girl's clothing.

Let them fan out." Bree called the other two searchers to join them. "Would you show them the vehicle?"

"It's this way." Haley led them through the brambles to where the Jeep sat under the trees. She wrenched open the front door. "You look there, and I'll check the back." She took out the keys and went to the rear of the vehicle. It was empty except for a steel whistle. She grabbed it and hung it around her neck. It might come in handy if she got lost. She slammed the hatch back down and went to join the searchers at the front.

"Not much here, but the dogs can sniff the interior," Bree said. She stepped aside and let the dogs nose the seat of the car. Their tails began to wag. "They've got something."

The truck came barreling back down the lane with Libby hunched over the wheel. Bree and Samson stepped out to meet her. The driver's door flew open, and Libby jumped out. "I brought two socks." She held a paper bag in her hand.

Bree took the bag from her and opened it, then held it down for the dog. Samson thrust his nose inside. He sniffed eagerly, then withdrew his nose and turned and strained toward the car. "He's got the scent." She knelt and unsnapped his leash. "Search, Samson." The dog bounded away. He ran off past the car with his tail held high.

For the first time, Haley began to think they might actually find the girls. She started following Bree and the rest of the searchers but soon fell behind. She couldn't run on the rough ground like the rest were doing. Within minutes, she found herself alone. Libby had forgotten she couldn't keep up as well.

Panic flared in her mind as Haley looked around and realized she had no idea where she was or how to get back to the truck. She had no cell phone, even if it would work out here, which it wouldn't.

Stop. Think. She forced herself not to run blindly. Thick spruce trees pressed in on all sides, and she smelled their sharp, pungent odor as she dithered and ground wet needles under her feet. Could she maybe follow her trail back to the truck? Or should she try to find the others? She listened, but all she could hear was the wind in the treetops and the gurgle of the river. The river. Would it take her where she needed to go?

She stepped a few feet to her right. It might not hurt to go there and see if there was any sign of the rest of the group. Following the sound of the rushing water, she pressed through the underbrush. The noise grew louder. She stumbled into a depression in the ground and lost her footing. Her right leg buckled, and she fell facedown into the soft spruce needles. She lay there and inhaled the scent.

She smelled something else, something not so pleasant. It brought the taste of fear to her mouth as she remembered the bear standing over her. She shot to her feet and looked around, but she didn't see anything. The hair continued to stand up on the back of her neck, and her throat closed. She stepped to a nearby birch tree. Deep gouges above her head marred the bark. She tried to reach them, to run her fingers over the marks, but they were too high. A big bear had to have made them.

She glanced up. Maybe she could climb the tree. She would feel safer up there, and maybe she could see the rest of the group from higher up. She reached up and grabbed hold of the lowest limb. Hauling herself up, she swung her left leg over the branch. Her grip faltered, and she slipped back to the ground. She wiped her hands on her jeans and tried again. This time she managed to get onto the limb.

She lay there panting for a moment. The ground seemed far away. She edged back toward the trunk and managed to stand. She couldn't see anything. But she heard something. Looking down, she saw the hump on the back of the big bear as it moved toward the tree where she stood. The claw marks were about even with her foot.

She grasped the limb above her and hauled herself up. She managed to get both legs onto the limb, but she couldn't swing to the topside of it. The bear rose on its hind legs and stared straight into her face. She shrieked and struggled to get higher. It opened its mouth and roared, then reached up toward her.

"Go away, go away," she shouted. She finally got on top of the limb and pulled her legs out of reach of the wicked-looking claws. Could grizzlies climb trees? She had read somewhere that they could, but maybe that wasn't true. Frantic, she grabbed the limb above her head. She had to get higher. Her leg throbbed, and her hands burned from being sc.r.a.ped raw by the bark. The bear began to shake the tree. She shrieked and clung to the branch with all her strength. The bear dropped to all fours and moved to the other side of the tree.

She climbed higher until the branches began to thin out and she was afraid they might break. The bear circled the tree beneath her, pausing occasionally to shake the tree. She stared down at its humped back as it lumbered around and around. What would happen if she got too tired? She straddled the limb and hung on as tightly as she could. As she moved, the whistle around her neck swung against her chest, and she grabbed it. She'd forgotten all about it.

She pulled it to her lips and blew on it with all her strength. The piercing shriek hurt her ears. The bear grunted and ran off toward the river. She could only hope one of the searchers heard it.

Twenty-Three.

Trucks and four-wheel-drive vehicles lined the narrow track and blocked further progress along the lane. Tank pulled up as far as he could go. The vehicles were empty, and trees blocked any view of the people who had to be here somewhere. He jumped out of the SUV and ran to the truck ahead of it. It held a dog crate in the back.

Tank tipped his head to the side and listened. He could hear distant barking. "Search dogs," he told Chet, who matched his steps.

"We're lucky they were still in the area." Chet huffed as he struggled to keep up with Tank.

They followed the sound of voices and dogs. "Libby!" Tank shouted. He heard an answering shout from his sister, and then she came running through the timber.

"Tank!" She launched herself into his arms. Her face was streaked with dirt and tears. "We haven't found her yet."

His chest ached even as he comforted his sister. "We'll find her." He released her, and they hurried toward the searchers. Dead leaves crunched under his boots, and their decaying aroma filled him with stark fear for his daughter's safety.

He, Libby, and Chet walked silently. They came to a clearing where searchers and dogs milled around. Libby introduced him to the searchers and pointed out the lead search dog, Samson. Tank watched the handsome German shepherd mix meandering aimlessly through the wildflowers. "What's wrong?" Samson looked back at them, then held his head high and sniffed the air.

"They're trying to pick up the scent again," Bree said. "Samson and the others are air-scent dogs. People give off wafts of skin that linger in the air. A good air-scent dog can pick the scent out of the air and follow it to its source. They've lost the scent right now."

"What could cause that?" Chet asked. "Did they ford the river?"

Bree shook her head. "An air-scent dog can track the scent into the water. The most remarkable recovery of a cadaver happened here in Alaska when some dogs found a body three hundred feet under the water." She frowned. "I'm not sure what's wrong. Generally, they only lose the scent if the person travels in an enclosed vehicle. That would be hard to do out here."

"Unless they got picked up by a helicopter or a plane," Tank suggested. He walked to a clearing and scanned the ground for evidence of an air vehicle. "A chopper could land here, or a plane could have landed on a sandbar in the river and picked them up."

"That might be what happened." Regret tinted Bree's words. "Samson isn't getting anything."

Tank's hope began to die. He couldn't see any evidence of a helicopter having landed here, so he walked to the edge of the water. "Is there any way we can tell where the scent leaves off ?"

Bree snapped her fingers, and Samson ran to her. She ran her hand over his curly coat, then held out the bag with the sock again. "Search, Samson." Her tone held urgency. He whined, and his head went up. He ran back and forth across the clearing, then raced to the edge of the water.

"I'd say a seaplane lifted them from here," Bree said, joining Tank at the edge of the river. "The current is pretty slow here, so it should have been able to land safely."

"Yeah." Tank took off his floppy hat and fished a handkerchief out of his pocket, then wiped his brow. "Any other recourse?" He couldn't wait to get his hands on Marley.

"Not unless we get some general idea of the quadrant where they landed. We have to get the dogs close enough to pick up the scent."

Chet dug out his radio. "There's no way of knowing where they went right now. I'll check with air-traffic control in Anchorage and see if a small plane posted a flight plan in this area."

Bree squeezed Tank's hand. "At least you know your daughter isn't wandering alone in the woods. If there's anything else we can do to help, let us know. Kade and I will be here for another two days, but we could delay our departure if you need us to stay."

Libby looked around. "Where's Haley?"

"She was here a few minutes ago," one of the women said.

"She's afraid of the wilderness," Tank said to Libby. "You should have kept a better eye on her. She couldn't find her way out of a paper bag."

"Stay calm," Bree said. "Do you have anything that belongs to her? It will be contaminated with other scents, but Samson is smart enough to figure out what I want him to do."

"I've got her camera bag," Libby said. She slipped it off and handed it to Bree.

"Perfect! Her scent is most likely the only one inside." She unzipped the top and held it out to the dogs. All three crowded around, jockeying for position. "Search, Samson!" He nosed it eagerly, then crisscrossed the meadow. Watching him for several minutes, Bree finally shook her head. "He's not getting it here."

Kade put his hand on her shoulder. "Let's walk back the way we came. We'll have to pick up her scent eventually."

"This way." Tank led them toward the lane. He stopped frequently to check his compa.s.s.

"Anchorage is checking into their records," Chet told him. "We'll find them. When I do, Marley is in big trouble."

Samson began to bark, and his tail wagged frantically. "He's found the scent!" Bree called. "Search, Samson." The dog raced off to the east, his tail held high in the air. The other dogs followed.

Tank ran after them. Spruce branches whipped at him and left traces of sap on his face and shirt. The rough, uneven ground slowed him down, but he pressed on. He leaped over a stream that crossed in front him and plowed on. A piercing whistle rose above the rustling of the wind in the spruce boughs. The dogs were moving in the direction of the whistle, and he followed them, his feet kicking up a mixture of needles, wet vegetation, and twigs. He fought his way through blueberry brambles into a small clearing by the river.

The dogs were barking frantically at the base of a white birch tree. He raised his gaze through the leafy branches until he saw a white face peering through the leaves. Haley. She was all right. A weight rolled off his shoulders. He walked to the base of the tree and looked up to find her clinging to a fork in the tree. Both arms wrapped around the smooth bark in front of her, she hugged the tree as if she were afraid the ground would reach up to s.n.a.t.c.h her.

"Tank, you came. Did you hear the whistle?" Her voice was a croak.

He could still hear terror in her voice, and his conscience smote him again. "That was smart thinking. Libby had your camera case too, so the dogs got your scent and led us here. Can you get down by yourself ? What are you doing up there?"

"There was a bear."

"It probably wouldn't have hurt you. Did you remember to make noise?" He held up his hands to help her down. She tumbled into his arms and clutched him with both hands. Her soft breath warmed the skin under his shirt as her panting began to calm. He pulled her closer, and she nestled against him. He rested his chin on the top of her head. The rest would be arriving in a moment, and he'd have to let her go, but he didn't want to release her. It felt right to hold her.

He heard the sound of voices, Libby, Bree, and the rest. Haley wept softly against his chest, and he patted and rubbed her back until she began to calm. "Shh, it's okay," he whispered. "You're safe now. The bear is gone."

She raised her head. Her eyes were red, and her skin blotchy from crying. "I started to climb the tree to see if I could see someone. I'd just gotten to the first limb when the bear came charging toward me. It wanted to eat me and wasn't afraid."

Tank frowned. "It might have had a cub nearby."

"I didn't see one. It had a torn ear. It looked like that predatory bear." She rubbed at her face. "Could I borrow your hanky?"

He shifted uneasily. It could have been the one they were after. A brown bear's home range could be from two hundred to five hundred square miles, and it could cover a lot of territory fast. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her. "It's not the cleanest, but help yourself."

She blew her nose vigorously, then stuck the handkerchief in her pocket. "Thanks. I'll wash it and give it back to you."

The voices grew louder, and the rest of the group broke through the blueberry patch and joined them. Haley stepped away, and Libby rushed to her side. "I'm so sorry, Haley! I should have been watching for you. Are you all right?"

Haley was pale, but she managed a smile and nodded. "I'm fine. Scared, but I'm okay now." Her gaze swept the group, and her smile dimmed. "You didn't find the girls?"

"No." Tank moved toward Chet. "They were evidently picked up in a small plane." He stopped in front of his father-in-law. "Any word from Anchorage?"

"Yeah, a small plane registered to Freemont Wilson flew out this way."

Tank frowned. "The name familiar to you?"

Chet shook his head. "Nope. But maybe she saw him flying overhead and waved him down."