search?”
“No, it’s okay for me to take you home. The sergeant wants you out of his hair. Seems he’s heard about some of your exploits.”
Whatever. We headed for Marco’s Prius so he could retrieve his flashlight, gloves, and a wool hat, and then, as we walked away from his car, I heard something snap beneath my boot. I glanced down and saw a thin, glossy, curved object sticking out of the snow. “Marco, shine the flashlight down here.”
He illuminated the ground while I plucked half of a skinny pink headband out of the snow. “This is Tara’s. She was here, Marco! Look. Here’s the other half.”
“Don’t touch it. Leave it there for evidence.”
I quickly backed away, still holding the other piece.
“Abby, are you positive Tara was wearing that headband during the concert?”
“Yes. She gave me the yellow and orange ones and kept the pink, green, and black.”
Marco pointed to the ground. “These shoe prints are recent. We need to move away.”
“Do you see Tara’s? Small, with a pointed toe and narrow heel?”
He stepped back a few feet, then crouched down and shined his light on the area. “There’s a set with a pointed toe. And there’s a set with a one-piece sole and a deep tread pattern. I’d guess a fairly new woman’s running shoe.”
I showed him the bottom of my boot. “They’re not mine, and Kathy had on boots, too.”
“Here’s a larger print with deep, wide treads, a man’s hiking boot possibly. But if they belong to the kidnappers, why would they have brought Tara here?”
I bent to take a closer look. “Do you think Tara got away from them and came here—maybe hoping to hide in one of our cars?”
Marco rose and began to search beyond the car. “If they used a Taser on her instead of a drug, she could have recovered quickly enough to escape. Maybe they caught up with her here. I see more of the same three sets of prints heading off toward the highway.”
“You’d think if they realized they nabbed the wrong person, they’d have let her go.”
“Either they haven’t discovered their mistake or it wasn’t a mistake.”
“Or maybe Tara saw their faces. . . .”
I stopped. Marco didn’t say anything, but I knew he was thinking the same thing: If the kidnappers were afraid of being identified, they’d probably kill her.
A helicopter flew overhead, its powerful searchlight aimed at the ground, allowing us to see three police officers, one with a dog on a leash, heading in our direction. Marco walked out to talk to them while the big German shepherd led his handler straight to the half headband in my hand, and then barked to alert the officer.
I turned over the piece of headband as Marco explained why we were there. The K-9 handler introduced himself as Officer Ray Aaron of the Sheriff’s Police, then asked us to step away so the other cops could take photos and collect evidence. With the wind blowing the snow around, I feared Tara’s trail would be lost, but Officer Aaron assured me that the cold air would actually help preserve her essence.
“A search dog’s goal is to locate the source of the scent,” Aaron explained. “His ability to track isn’t affected by cold weather, only by heat, which can dissipate DNA.”
When Eros, the German shepherd, was given the command to search, he put his nose down and headed toward the highway. But at the edge of the road, he began circling.
“He’s lost the scent,” Aaron explained. “We’ll continue across the road to see if he can pick it up, but my guess is that the kidnappers had a vehicle waiting here.”
My heart sank as I stared up the dark, windswept road. A half mile ahead was a junction, with on-ramps that led to an interstate highway. Tara could be headed anywhere in the country.
I turned to study Uniworld’s Distribution Center on the other side of the road, where at least two dozen semitrailers were parked in rows between the road and the loading docks, and even at night, trucks were
“No, it’s okay for me to take you home. The sergeant wants you out of his hair. Seems he’s heard about some of your exploits.”
Whatever. We headed for Marco’s Prius so he could retrieve his flashlight, gloves, and a wool hat, and then, as we walked away from his car, I heard something snap beneath my boot. I glanced down and saw a thin, glossy, curved object sticking out of the snow. “Marco, shine the flashlight down here.”
He illuminated the ground while I plucked half of a skinny pink headband out of the snow. “This is Tara’s. She was here, Marco! Look. Here’s the other half.”
“Don’t touch it. Leave it there for evidence.”
I quickly backed away, still holding the other piece.
“Abby, are you positive Tara was wearing that headband during the concert?”
“Yes. She gave me the yellow and orange ones and kept the pink, green, and black.”
Marco pointed to the ground. “These shoe prints are recent. We need to move away.”
“Do you see Tara’s? Small, with a pointed toe and narrow heel?”
He stepped back a few feet, then crouched down and shined his light on the area. “There’s a set with a pointed toe. And there’s a set with a one-piece sole and a deep tread pattern. I’d guess a fairly new woman’s running shoe.”
I showed him the bottom of my boot. “They’re not mine, and Kathy had on boots, too.”
“Here’s a larger print with deep, wide treads, a man’s hiking boot possibly. But if they belong to the kidnappers, why would they have brought Tara here?”
I bent to take a closer look. “Do you think Tara got away from them and came here—maybe hoping to hide in one of our cars?”
Marco rose and began to search beyond the car. “If they used a Taser on her instead of a drug, she could have recovered quickly enough to escape. Maybe they caught up with her here. I see more of the same three sets of prints heading off toward the highway.”
“You’d think if they realized they nabbed the wrong person, they’d have let her go.”
“Either they haven’t discovered their mistake or it wasn’t a mistake.”
“Or maybe Tara saw their faces. . . .”
I stopped. Marco didn’t say anything, but I knew he was thinking the same thing: If the kidnappers were afraid of being identified, they’d probably kill her.
A helicopter flew overhead, its powerful searchlight aimed at the ground, allowing us to see three police officers, one with a dog on a leash, heading in our direction. Marco walked out to talk to them while the big German shepherd led his handler straight to the half headband in my hand, and then barked to alert the officer.
I turned over the piece of headband as Marco explained why we were there. The K-9 handler introduced himself as Officer Ray Aaron of the Sheriff’s Police, then asked us to step away so the other cops could take photos and collect evidence. With the wind blowing the snow around, I feared Tara’s trail would be lost, but Officer Aaron assured me that the cold air would actually help preserve her essence.
“A search dog’s goal is to locate the source of the scent,” Aaron explained. “His ability to track isn’t affected by cold weather, only by heat, which can dissipate DNA.”
When Eros, the German shepherd, was given the command to search, he put his nose down and headed toward the highway. But at the edge of the road, he began circling.
“He’s lost the scent,” Aaron explained. “We’ll continue across the road to see if he can pick it up, but my guess is that the kidnappers had a vehicle waiting here.”
My heart sank as I stared up the dark, windswept road. A half mile ahead was a junction, with on-ramps that led to an interstate highway. Tara could be headed anywhere in the country.
I turned to study Uniworld’s Distribution Center on the other side of the road, where at least two dozen semitrailers were parked in rows between the road and the loading docks, and even at night, trucks were
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