Page 27 of High Intensity

I reach for the zipper of the suitcase.

“May I?”

He gestures for me to go ahead.

To my surprise there is very little in the suitcase; a few T-shirts, some underwear, a bathing suit, and a pair of pajamas. Considering she was just on a winter vacation, that seems a bit sparse.

“No socks, no sweater, and no toiletries,” I point out.

“Astute,” Polman observes.

The discovery actually flames my hopes. It would confirm the girl survived and was obviously capable of rational thought if she grabbed things she would need to sustain herself.

“What’s the girl’s name?”

Wolff is the one to answer, “Hayley. Hayley Vallard.”

I grab the pajamas I assume she’s slept in, and tuck them in a resealable bag from my backpack. Then I crouch down and hold the bag open for Murphy.

“Ready to get to work, Murphy?”

His tail is wagging as he shoves his nose in. The bag is part of his routine, and every so often I’ll take it out of my pack to keepthe scent fresh in his nose. I let him sniff his fill before zipping the bag closed and tucking it in my backpack.

The dog sits down beside me, looking up and waiting for my order.

“Good boy. Search, Murphy.”

He takes off immediately, zigzagging in front of me. I keep him on the long lead for now, but once he picks up her scent and heads into the tree cover, I’ll probably let him off. Give him the freedom to track.

The snow here has been packed down from all the traffic I imagine has gone through in the past few days. No need for snowshoes yet, but that will change if Murphy takes us into the woods.

The dog pulls me away from the ridge and down the slope, into the trees, toward a large section of the plane.

“Careful,” I hear the investigator behind me.

But Murphy is already finding his way around the wreckage and darts into the gaping hole, sniffing furiously at the single seat, before ducking inside the open door of a bathroom. I can tell from his reaction he’s picking up on the girl’s scent; his tail is standing almost straight up and he is hyperalert, almost vibrating.

He scoots back out of the fuselage and almost gets tangled up with Polman, who is right behind me.

“Give them some space,” Wolff, who kept a respectful distance, grumbles at the man. “Let them do their work.”

Murphy is tracking though, and pulling me in a different direction, so I can’t quite make out Polman’s response. The dog is no longer zigzagging, but moving in a straight line, right to what appears to be the nose of the plane. There he sniffs around for a moment, before making a beeline for the trees on the far side.

“Hold, Murphy. Wait,” I call out quickly, before he pulls me into the deep snow.

He obediently sits down, but he’s tense and ready to spring up as soon as I give him any indication. As I’m quickly strapping my snowshoes on, I notice Wolff about twenty feet behind me, doing the same thing.

“You don’t have to follow me.”

He glances up with a half-smile.

“No team member goes out alone in these conditions. HMT rules.”

I open my mouth to tell him I’m not an HMT team member, but I have a feeling that won’t make much of a difference. Besides, Murphy is starting to whine, eager to get going.

Instead, I straighten up and pull on my gloves.

“All right, boy. Let’s find Hayley.”

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