“What are you doing?” Amy Raye said. “You’re naked.”
But Amy Raye knew what they were doing, as if something deep in her belly that fluttered and burned sudden like hot bubbles scratching to get out recognized it before her mind understood. She’d seen them naked before, when the three of them would go swimming in the pond, even after Lionel’s penis had grown fuller and longer, and dark hairs had sprouted around it, and Nan’s breasts had budded into smooth, round mounds of flesh as large as softballs. They didn’t pay each other any mind then. Their bodies had felt as natural as the cool water against their skin.
“Come here,” Lionel said.
PRU
After reporting in to Colm, I took pictures of the prints and items. Then Jeff and I continued to work Kona on the trail. “In town you can hear a car a mile away,” I told him. “Even at my house, which is outside of town, I can make out the sounds of trucks on the highway. But here, it’s like we’re in some big void. Amy Raye’s not going to hear us unless we’re fifty yards in front of her, maybe even less.”
Jeff and I followed Kona away from the shelter, where the trail made a couple of switchbacks, eventually heading due south and continuing to descend in elevation. For the most part, Kona’s head remained near the ground, except for an occasional lift to clear snowflakes from his snout, at which time he’d blow hard, shake his head, even sneeze.
—
We were stepping over small juniper saplings and deadfall as we kept making our way downhill. Up ahead a thick patch of mature juniper appeared. It was there that Kona stopped and lifted his head for a few seconds, his ears alert, his tail still. He would do that sometimes when he’d lost a trail, raise his head as if trying to ride the wind and pick up a scent.
“What is it, boy?” I said.
He gave me only a second’s notice before taking off and weaving his way in and out of the trees in front of us.
Jeff and I stepped into the timber. The ground looked much like that underneath the bough, with only a dusting of snow and a smattering of leaves from the sparse Gambel oak, which allowed us to identify prints that appeared to have been made by a woman. Colm had given the search team a description of Amy Raye’s boots—Merrell, rectangular tread, size seven.
“She was definitely here,” I said. My pace quickened behind Kona’s, and my eyes remained alert for broken twigs and depressions.
Our downward descent was leading us to a clearing at the hem of the timber where ashen light filtered through the dark branches. Kona glanced over his shoulder at me, then moved forward, his steps even, his body appearing stiff like it would get when he was fixed on something.
“What is it?” I said, my voice not much more than a whisper.
Kona neared the edge of the timber. Then he stopped, his head alert, his tail slightly raised. Jeff and I caught up to him. The terrain opened to a creek about fifty yards down from us. On the other side of the creek were five cow elk and three calves leisurely feeding.
A snapping of branches sounded from the woods beyond the elk. A small four-point bull emerged from the green shadows and began grazing with the others.
“She’s not here,” I said, my voice still a whisper. “The elk would know. They’d smell her scent. They wouldn’t be grazing so freely.”
“We’re here,” Jeff reminded me, his voice not much louder than mine had been.
Jeff was right. I recognized that we were downwind from the elk. Perhaps Amy Raye was also. “Go find,” I commanded Kona again, hoping he hadn’t lost the trail.
Once more, Kona glanced at me over his shoulder. He looked back at the elk, trotted forward a few steps, and let out a yip. The elk raised their heads, hesitated a few seconds, then turned their broad shoulders and lunged into the trees on the far side of them.
“Kona, no,” I commanded, knowing he was up for a good chase. I reached inside my coat for the bag containing Amy Raye’s mittens. I held the mittens to Kona’s nose.
“Go find,” I said again.
Kona’s playful distraction was over. He was back to work. He turned his head slowly as if he were trying to pick up an air scent.
His stance tightened. He was onto something. Kona backtracked a few yards and then, with his snout close to the ground, made a turn to the right, following the inside edge of the timber. I identified a footprint here and there that the wind had not disturbed.
“We should alert Colm,” Jeff said.
I reached for my radio. “Command, Alpha One. Kona’s definitely on. We’re in the woods just south of the marker, maybe eighty yards. There are footprints. We’re now moving southeast along the edge of the timber.”
“Alpha One, this is Command. We’ve got teams heading there now. Keep reporting back to me. Proceed forward. Make noise. Let the subject know you’re there.”