The Troublesome Angel

When Stacy arrived at the campground, she was met with utter chaos. The local sheriff greeted her solemnly as he shook her hand. “I’m sure glad to see you, ma’am. It’s been a long time since we’ve needed you.”

“Hello, Frank. I’m glad I was available. You ready to fill me in?”

“Not much to tell. We’ve got a real mess out there in the woods, a bunch of folks beatin’ the bushes, hollering at each other and gettin’ nowhere fast.”

“That’s normal,” Stacy said. “Where’ve you set up your command post?”

“Over here.” He led the way.

Stacy sensed Graydon following. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled a primitive warning. What a jolt it had been to encounter him again! And how odd to sense that he was truly concerned for the missing six-year-old. The Graydon Payne she’d met when she was dating Mark had seemed totally oblivious to the needs and concerns of others.

Ignoring his formidable presence hovering directly behind her, she greeted the other searchers with a polite, businesslike nod and immediately launched into her standard instruction speech. They were to cover designated quadrants of the forest, reporting in at set intervals and notifying the command post before deviating from their assigned territory for any reason. Once each team had finished the first wave of searching, they’d be given orders as to what to do next.

“I’ll take my dogs and sweep out from the last place the girl was seen,” Stacy concluded. “I’ll be the only one moving in random directions. Is that clear?”

The men nodded. Pointing to the map, Stacy quickly gave out their assignments, then led them in silent prayer before she dismissed them. They moved away in groups of two. Only the sheriff remained to man the command post.

“I’m coming with you,” Graydon announced.

Hearing his deep voice so close behind her gave Stacy a start. She whirled. “Thanks, but no thanks.” A faint tremor in her hands was the only thing that betrayed her nervousness. “I work alone.”

“Not this time, you don’t.”

She glared up at him, fists on her hips, stance firm and wide, radiating authority. Her dog spoiled the image when he lunged to one side and almost pulled her off her feet.

Graydon was frowning. “I’m going. That’s all there is to it. If you don’t let me walk with you, I’ll just follow anyway. Which would you rather have?”

“Neither. But I don’t suppose that was one of the choices, was it?”

“No.”

“You’ll ruin your good clothes.”

“I have others.”

“I’ll bet you do.” She pressed her lips into a thin line. Reasoning with a stubborn man like him was impossible.

Clark gave another mighty jerk on the leash. Teenage dogs were usually incorrigible and this one was no exception. He was twice as headstrong as Lewis had been at the same age.

Stacy’s quick mind assessed the situation. Maybe there was a way around her dilemma after all. If Graydon went along with her plan, she’d have Clark out of the way so Lewis could work, unhindered. If he refused, she’d have him out of the way. Either choice made her the clear winner.

She extended her left hand, Clark’s leash held tightly in her fist. “Okay, take this. Borrow some survival gear and meet me back here in five minutes. I’m putting you in charge of this dog.”

“Me?” Graydon’s scowl deepened.

“Why not? You said he likes you.”

“Yes, but… What if I make a mistake? I don’t know anything about search and rescue.”

“Then you and the dog are about even,” Stacy countered. “He doesn’t either.” She heard the sheriff chuckle in the background.

Graydon snatched the leash out of her hand. “That’s comforting.”

“I thought you’d like it.” She met his challenging gaze boldly. “See if you can find something else the little girl touched recently, preferably an item of her clothing. Bring it with you when you come back. Remember, five minutes, tops. After that, I’ll be gone.”

To avoid any more argumentative conversation, she turned her back on Graydon Payne and concentrated solely on the sheriff. “Now, Frank, what other evidence have you turned up and what else can you tell me before I leave?”

Graydon returned within three minutes, much to Stacy’s chagrin. Over his suit he wore a bright-orange, hooded sweatshirt, the kind hunters used to keep from being confused with their prey. He reached into the pocket of the coat and brought out a small, pink glove with white-and-brown bunnies knit into the pattern on the cuff. “Will this do? I found it at the edge of camp.”

Stacy recognized it as the mate to the plastic-wrapped glove the sheriff had passed on to her. “Why didn’t you give that to Frank?”

“He has the other one. In all the confusion I forgot I’d stuffed this one in my pocket.”

“You’re sure it’s hers?”

“Positive. I bought these gloves and a matching jacket for Missy—Melissa—when I heard Mark and Candace were taking her camping. They said she loved them…wore them all the time, even at home.”

A twinge of mild regret stirred in Stacy’s heart. So, Mark was married, just as she’d figured. To her surprise, the thought didn’t linger long enough to make her melancholy. There was no time for self-pity. A poor, frightened child was wandering alone in the wilderness, probably crying, freezing and hungry. That was all that mattered.

She looked to Graydon. “Okay. Show me exactly where you found the glove. We’ll start there.”

“It was over by the rest rooms, on a path that leads into the forest.” He pointed. “That way.”

“And you’re sure she left of her own accord?”

“Positive. Several people saw her go.”

“Okay.” Taking the glove, Stacy held it for Lewis to smell, then guided him in the direction Graydon had indicated. It didn’t take him long to strike a trail, put his nose to the ground and start into the woods at a fast pace.

“Good boy, Lewis. Go on! Find her!” Adrenaline surged through Stacy, sharpening her already keen senses. Praise God, the trail was still warm so the chances of finding the child were very good, especially with a competent tracking dog like Lewis on the job.

He was the calm, sensible one of the pair, the one whose head was always clear, whose canine judgment she trusted implicitly. Clark, on the other hand, was a clown in a dog suit. It was hard to believe they were half brothers.

Which reminded her… Glancing over her shoulder, Stacy caught a glimpse of Graydon and the younger dog. They were lagging behind while Clark sniffed the base of an interesting tree. That figured. His faculties might be as good as Lewis’s but his instincts pertaining to a search were sorely lacking. Until he learned to prioritize, he was next to useless as a rescue dog, no matter how well he could find hidden items in the course of his training.

And speaking of useless, she added, there was also the matter of Graydon Payne. She should never have assigned Clark to him. It would probably take her weeks to undo the damage he was doing to the poor dog’s training.

She called back. “This way! Make him follow us.”

“How do you expect me to do that?” Graydon yelled. “This dog has a mind of his own.”

“Yours is supposed to be stronger,” she countered. “Show him who’s boss.”

“He is, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Whistling, Stacy got the retriever’s attention and he headed for her at a dead run, dragging the surprised man along behind him in a stumbling, sliding charge.

By the time Graydon and Clark arrived at the spot where Stacy had stood, she and Lewis were already underway again.