Page 25 of High Intensity

“No.”

“In that case, we can throw it in the back of my truck and put it inside the shelter at our base camp. We’ve got a heater going in there for the equipment, so it’s probably more comfortable for the dogs than the back of your SUV.”

“That’ll work.”

She opens the rear passenger door to my truck and whistles between her teeth for the dogs. They respond instantly, jumping down from the porch, running over, and hopping straight into the back seat.

It takes us a few minutes to get the aluminum travel crate from the back of her SUV and secure it in the bed of my truck with some straps. While Jillian goes back to the porch to grab her backpack and snowshoes, I get behind the wheel and start the engine.

“I wasn’t expecting to get called out already,” she says, buckling herself in. “Guess you weren’t messing around this morning.”

“My team and the sheriff were on board right away,” I share.

“But?” I glance at her, and she flashes me a grin. “I could swear I heard one in there.”

Perceptive.

“The lead investigator for the National Transportation Safety Board, who’s in charge of the crash site, required a bit of convincing,” I admit. “What can I say, he’s government, but he saw the light in the end.”

“I hope you didn’t make an enemy out of him in the process.”

“Not me. I didn’t have to say a word. Ewing and Jonas did all the convincing.”

I catch a glimpse of a smile on her lips. I guess there are worse things than having those two tout your praises.

“Well, I appreciate the votes of confidence, and I hope to God one of my guys can pick up her scent.”

I tell her about this morning’s briefing, about the possible missing supplies, and the theories we were throwing around.

“I guess it’s possible, but she’d have to be an incredibly resourceful and courageous eleven-year-old,” Jillian points out. “I really hope she is all those things.”

Me too.

On my way here I was mulling over the likelihood the girl could be out there, still alive. You’d think we would’ve found some trace of her—tracks—but if she started moving while the storm was still going on, the snow and wind could well have obscured them. Especially if she had, say, a pair of snowshoes; the imprints she’d leave behind would be fairly shallow.

So yeah, even though the odds are getting slimmer by the minute, I’d love to find her alive out there.

“I notice you didn’t bring Emo?”

I turn my head to catch her looking at me, a shadow in her eyes I can’t quite put my finger on.

“Not as long as there is even the remotest chance this child survived,” she states firmly before aiming her gaze out the windshield.

Then she adds softly.

“There’s still hope.”

Jillian

“You wait here, sweet girl.”

I nudge Hunter into the crate. She whines softly but curls up in the blankets I keep in there, resting her head on her crossed legs. She’s a beagle mix and has a great nose, but she doesn’t quite have the same stamina as Murphy and takes a lot longer to recover, which is why I’m taking him first.

Murphy, a black Lab cross, is eager to get going when I walk him out of the large tent.

“Easy, boy,” I mumble when he starts pulling on the leash.

Wolff is already standing next to one of the snowmobiles parked outside. He’s going to give us a ride to the crash site, which apparently is a bit of a hike away.

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