Hannah always told him that publicity was a good thing. Over the summer she had even convinced him that it could help to locate his sister, Brodie. That’s if Brodie was still alive. Creed couldn’t hide the fact that the small possibility of that being true was one of the things that helped him get out of bed each day. But he and Grace had had their fill of publicity over the past months.
Okay, he’d had his fill. Grace was already prancing and wagging in the direction of the TV van. He ignored the camera crew even as they came at him. He ignored the female anchor, too, as she shoved a microphone in his face.
“What exactly will you and your dog be doing to help find Mrs. Hamlet?”
When he didn’t answer and kept walking she continued a barrage of questions.
“She’s been gone for almost forty hours. Is this a cadaver dog? Does that mean you think she might be dead?”
He saw Vance in a group on the front lawn. When he noticed Creed and Grace he hurried up the sidewalk.
“Your dog seems so small,” the anchor said, still walking in front of him. Creed was trying to be polite and not shove her or the cameraman out of his way. “Will you be bringing in other dogs?”
“Folks, please let the man and his dog through so they can get to work.” Vance stepped between Creed and the woman, opening his long arms to create a path, but more important, blocking the TV crew.
He led Creed up over the mud-slick lawn. Debris was scattered where the receding floodwaters had left the heavier items, like rocks and branches, pieces of siding, and a few shingles. Already Creed kept an eye on what Grace might step on. Grace was straining at her leash to greet the group that waited and stared at them.
Before Vance even introduced them, Creed had picked out the grieving daughter. The entire group looked exhausted. Clothes wet and mud-stained. Shoulders sagging. But the daughter, Charlene, was in the center. Her short blond hair was windblown, damp strands stuck to her forehead. Her eyes were bloodshot with swollen bags underneath. She was biting at a fingernail as Vance introduced them, and then she absently presented Creed with the same hand to shake.
“We’ve looked everywhere,” she told Creed. “My fear is,” and she stopped as tears began to choke her words. A man standing behind her moved up and squeezed her shoulders. “This is my brother, Lonnie.”
But the man didn’t offer Creed his hand. Instead he eyed him and Grace suspiciously, keeping his hands on Charlene, more protective than comforting.
“I keep imagining that she’s hurt,” Charlene continued. “That she’s stuck under some branches. She’s just a little bitty thing. Barely a hundred pounds.” She dragged a sleeve over her runny nose. The fingernail found its way between her teeth again.
“I need to ask a few questions,” Creed told her, waiting for her eyes to quit flickering to Grace, then to her friends and her brother. They darted back to the woods that started at the edge of the cul-de-sac.
“Miss Hamlet?”
Finally she looked at him and offered a hint of a smile as she said, “Call me Charlene.”
“Charlene, how advanced is your mother’s dementia? Are we talking Alzheimer’s?”
“Early stages. She gets confused very easily. Can’t remember things. She doesn’t recognize anyone except me.” She looked down at her finger. It was bleeding now. “Some days I’m not sure she even recognizes me or if she’s just pretending to.”
“What does she do when she’s confused?”
Charlene had to think about this and her nose scrunched up as she did. “Sometimes she sits down. Other times she paces, almost like she’s looking for the correct answer.”
“Does she ever go outside the house alone?”
“No, never.” She shook her head to ward off more tears. “She was probably worried about me. I tried calling, but sometimes she doesn’t remember what the phone is.” She looked back at her brother as if she needed to convince him. “Sometimes she doesn’t know where the ringing is coming from. You know how hard of hearing she is.” Her eyes trailed back to the woods. “I don’t know if she can even hear us calling for her.”
Grace sat patiently at Creed’s feet. He glanced down to find her looking at Charlene Hamlet, tilting her head from side to side, ears pitched forward, listening as though she were taking in all the information, too. She would definitely be focused on the woman’s emotional state.
He’d already explained to Vance that Grace was an air-scent dog. She found dead people by the particular smells of decomposition that every human being gives off after death. She was also trained in rescue, just like Bolo. Live humans emitted particles of scent, millions that go airborne and are carried by the wind or get caught on items in the environment.