Part 6
Sled marks crossed and recrossed the snow in front of the cabin. A tarp had been dragged beside a pile of equipment and left there. The little red battery lamp over the entrance flickered when the wind caught its wire.
Nolan waited while Martin looked a second time.
The cabin stood close to a frozen inlet. Across the open ice, gusts drove loose snow in sheets that concealed the reed beds along shore.
Tessa acknowledged the request for medical assistance. Then she relayed Claire’s update: the five dogs at the sheds were loaded and stable enough to move. Cedar was awake and objecting strenuously to the staffing decisions.
Martin let out a short breath that might have been a laugh.
He announced himself at the door, waited, and called again. No answer came. The handle turned, and the door scraped inward.
Everett Dace sat on the floor beside a portable heater that had gone out.
His expensive overcoat was pulled tight around him. Melted snow darkened his trouser knees, and the smooth hair Nolan remembered from the fundraiser had fallen across his forehead. Two duffel bags lay within reach.
Martin ordered his hands kept visible.
Dace raised them.
“Deputy, thank heaven. I was moving animals to safety. We’ve had a serious volunteer problem, and now the weather—”
“Anyone else here?”
“No. Not people.”
“Animals?”
Dace glanced toward the inner door.
“They’re contained.”
Then he recognized Nolan.
“You.” His mouth tightened. “You’ve decided this is a mission, haven’t you? Civilian life doesn’t give you enough enemies?”
Nolan said nothing.
Martin shifted between them. “You’re answering safety questions now. Nothing else.”
Denise took a position near the inner doorway before Nolan opened it.
Three travel crates stood along the back wall. A young Malinois watched with wide, frightened eyes. A black-and-tan shepherd pulled its feet beneath its body. In the third crate, a sable female slowly raised her head.
A pale patch showed beneath her chin.
Nolan lowered his shoulders and crouched, leaving space between himself and the bars.
“Your little guy found us,” he said. “He’s warm. He’s been stealing things.”
The female’s ears moved.
Behind him, Dace resumed explaining. He spoke about transport privacy, donor requirements, veterinary disputes, and contracts. Martin secured him without raising his voice.
Denise examined the duffel bags. Cash, phones, storage drives, and documents lay packed together. She photographed them where they sat.
Nolan stepped aside so she could help assess the dogs. Tessa relayed Claire’s transport instructions: dry bedding, gradual warming, minimal handling. Don’t rush to separate the crates if that would increase their distress.
Another message followed.
“Claire says Cedar has damaged the road map. She can still find Dunleith, but the eastern half of the county is damp.”
A laugh escaped Nolan, abrupt enough that Fern blinked at him.
He put a hand over his mouth and looked at the floor.
Then a human shout came from outside.
Denise turned toward the entrance. Martin was already calling Walter’s name into his radio.
“Stay with the dogs,” he told Nolan.
Nolan’s first impulse was so familiar he nearly moved with it. He stopped with one hand against the doorframe.
“Copy.”
A second deputy arrived as Martin and Denise went into the snow. The younger man took charge of Dace, who immediately began offering a revised explanation of events.
Nolan remained near the crates.
“You’re found,” he told the dogs. “We’ll work on the rest.”
Through the radio came broken reports. Walter’s truck had been located a quarter mile away, lights on, nobody inside. Tracks led toward the inlet.
Fern shifted and gave a low growl.
Nolan looked at the window. His flashlight reflected from the glass. He lowered it, shielded the beam, and tried again.
A shape moved among the reeds.
The younger deputy lifted a hand when Nolan rose.
“You were told to stay here.”
“I’m looking from the porch.”
“People always say that before they leave.”
“Come watch me, then.”
It came out sharper than Nolan intended. He stopped, looked back, and added, “Please.”
The deputy followed him to the doorway, keeping Dace in view.
Outside, Nolan searched the shoreline. Martin’s light appeared to the left, Denise’s farther right. The moving shape lifted and dropped again.
A tarp, caught in the wind.
He was about to call that out when Fern barked behind him.
One hard note. Her eyes held a point beyond the flapping material.
Nolan raised his light.
A gloved hand emerged from the reeds and disappeared.
“Martin! Past the tarp. Ten yards right, down low.”
The deputy’s beam swung.
Walter had slipped down the snow-covered bank and become trapped where shore ice, reeds, and drifted snow met. He was conscious, but his voice had almost failed him. From the cabin, Nolan could see only fragments as the searchers worked their way toward him.
They didn’t rush. Denise secured a line. Martin tested each step. Their instructions traveled back in short, deliberate calls.
Then Martin asked Nolan to anchor from higher ground.
He moved only then, took the line where Denise indicated, and braced behind a pine. He pulled when told, stopped when told, and held while the others brought Walter up a few inches at a time.
The rope bit through his gloves. Snow slid inside one cuff. He kept his feet where they belonged.
On firm ground, Walter lay wrapped while the arriving medical crew brought a sled forward.
“The dogs?” he whispered.
“Found,” Martin said. “Your common sense is still missing.”
Walter’s eyes creased faintly.
“Tessa said stay put.”
“Next time, try that part.”
Nolan helped guide the medical sled to the access route. When he returned, Dace was still addressing the young deputy as if the right arrangement of words might carry him out of the room.
Martin listened briefly, then read him his rights.
Nolan turned back to the crates.
Claire arrived in the transport van twenty minutes later. She carried Cedar and a bag of supplies, her cheeks red from the cold.
“I tried leaving him with the crew,” she said. “He sounded like a kettle boiling dry.”
Cedar’s head appeared above the carrier.
Fern saw him.
She lowered herself onto the bedding, eyes following him as Claire opened the crate. Nolan caught the puppy before he could tumble out of his carrier and placed him on the blanket two feet away.
Cedar crossed the distance awkwardly, one paw catching beneath him. He recovered and pushed his face into Fern’s neck.
She curved her head around his body.
He stopped moving.
Claire turned toward her supplies. Martin rubbed the bridge of his nose. Nolan stayed crouched beside the blanket, his hand suspended where he had steadied Cedar, until he realized he could lower it.
The red lamp blinked through the open door.
He thought of his mother’s kitchen window and the folded list in her Bible. Under his breath, he said, “Thank You.”
Claire prepared Fern for the journey and asked him to hold Cedar while she adjusted the transport bedding.
The puppy settled inside his jacket, warm now, heavy with sleep. Fern watched every movement until Nolan knelt close enough for her to touch her nose to Cedar’s fur.
Then Claire fastened the crate door, and they carried them out together…
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