Love You More: A Novel

“How do you know when the dogs have found it, made a hit?” D.D. asked curiously. “Quizo will bark … louder?”


“Three-minute sustained bark,” Nelson supplied. “All SAR dogs are trained a little different—some sit to indicate a hit, others have a particular woofing pitch. But given our team specializes in search and rescue, we’ve gone with a three-minute sustained bark, assuming our dogs might be out of sight, behind a tree or boulder, and we might need three minutes to catch up. Works for us.”

“Well, I can’t supply a marked X,” D.D. said, “but we do have one way of getting started.”

D.D. turned to Tessa. “So let’s take a trip down memory lane. You drove this far?”

Tessa’s expression had gone blank. She nodded.

“Park here?”

“Don’t know. The road was better formed, packed down. I drove to the end.”

D.D. gestured around. “Trees, fields, anything look familiar?”

Tessa hesitated, shivering again. “Maybe that copse of trees over there,” she said at last, pointing vaguely with two hands bound on the wrists. “Not sure. The fresh snowfall … it’s like someone wiped the chalkboard clean. Everything is both the same and different.”

“Four hours,” D.D. said crisply. “Then one way or another, you’re back behind bars. So I suggest you start studying the landscape, because if you really want to bring your daughter home, this is the only chance you’re gonna get.”

Something finally moved in Tessa’s face, a spasm of emotion that was hard to read, but might have included regret. It bothered D.D. She turned away, both arms wrapped around her middle now.

“Get her a coat,” she muttered to Bobby.

He was already holding an extra jacket in his hands. He held it out and D.D. almost laughed. It was a down-filled black coat emblazoned Boston PD, no doubt from the trunk of one of the patrol officers. He draped it around Tessa’s shoulders, as she could not slide her shackled arms into the sleeves, then zippered up the front to hold it in place.

“What’s more incongruous?” D.D. murmured out loud. “A state trooper in a Boston PD field coat, or a Suffolk County Jail inmate in a Boston PD field coat? Either way,” her voice dropped, sounding dark, even nasty, “it just doesn’t fit.”

D.D. stalked back to her car. She stood alone, huddled against the cold and her own feeling of impending doom. Dark gray clouds gathered on the horizon.

Snow’s coming, she thought, and wished again that none of them were here.


They set out twelve minutes later, a shackled Tessa in the lead, Bobby and D.D. on either side, with the canine team and an assortment of officers bringing up the rear. The dogs remained leashed. They hadn’t been given the work command yet, but strained against their leads, clearly anxious.

They’d made it only twenty feet before having to stop for the first time. No matter how vindictive D.D. was feeling, Tessa couldn’t walk shackled in four inches of fresh snow. They released the binds at her ankles, then finally made some progress.

Tessa led the group to a first copse of trees. She walked around it, frowning as if studying hard. Then she entered the cluster of bare-branched trees, making it ten feet before shaking her head and withdrawing again. They explored three more patches of woods in a similar fashion, before the fourth spot appeared to be the charm.

Tessa entered and kept on walking, her footsteps growing faster, surer now. She came to a massive gray boulder jutting up from the landscape and seemed to nod to herself. They veered left around the rock, Quizo whining low in his throat, as if already on-scent.

No one spoke. Just the squeaky crunch of footsteps trampling snow, the panting of dogs, the muffled exhalations of their handlers and officers, bundled up in neck warmers and wool scarves.

They exited the copse of trees. D.D. paused, thinking that must be a mistake, but Tess kept moving forward, crossing an open expanse of snow, fording a small, trickling stream just visible between fluffy white banks, before disappearing into a more serious line of woods.

“Awfully far to walk with a body,” D.D. muttered.

Bobby shot her a glance, seeming to think the same thing.

But Tessa didn’t say a word. She was walking faster now, with purpose. There was a look on her face that was almost uncanny to see. Grim determination rimmed with ragged desperation.

Did Tessa even register the dog team, her entourage of law enforcement handlers? Or had she gone back somewhere in her mind, to a cold Saturday afternoon. Neighbors had seen the Denali depart around four p.m., meaning there hadn’t been much daylight left by the time she made it all the way out here.