Page 16 of High Intensity

Wolff

“Out.”

I’m surprised when she plants a hand in the middle of my chest and forcefully backs me out of the room.

“Whoa, hold on.”

“Let’s give them some space,” she mutters, not letting up.

I cast one last glance into the room before Jillian pulls the door shut. Then I follow her down the hall to a waiting area.

“How’s the baby?” I ask when I take a seat next to her, running my hand through hair that’s getting too long again. I could braid it.

“Suspected strep throat, and she’s dehydrated. They want to at least make sure she can keep liquids down.” She shifts in her seat, turning toward me. “I thought you guys were out on a call. In fact, so did Sloane, which is why she didn’t wanna bug Dan.”

Guess that makes sense. We were, in fact, out on the missing airplane call most of the day, but because of the cold temperatures, Jonas doesn’t want us out there after sundown.

It’s a complicated search, because all we have are the coordinates where the private jet last pinged on the radar before it disappeared. That doesn’t necessarily mean that’s where the plane went down. All day, helicopters have been flying over Elephant Peak while we set up a base of operations along a forest development road near the Howard Lake Campground. With any visible irregularities they reported, Sully would dispatch our state-of-the-art Matrice drone to get a closer look. Based on his findings, we’d go in with the horses, but so far today we haven’t had much luck.

If that plane went down and on the off-chance someone survived the impact, it is doubtful they’d last the night.

None of us had been happy going home for the night, but there is little we can do in the dark, except risk the safety of our horses.

“We were out, but were losing light. We’ll be heading back out there first thing tomorrow. Dan happened to be in my truckwith me when Ama called him so we came straight here. He’s in a bit of a state, but he loves that little girl,” I add in defense of my teammate.

She grins. “I know. And Sloane is still not used to sharing responsibilities when she’s been used to carrying those by herself,” she points out, defending her friend.

“Fair enough,” I concede, nodding.

“So, no sign of the plane?” She diverts conversation to the search.

“Not yet. Either it veered completely off its set course or the snow is obscuring any signs of a possible crash site.”

She leans forward with her forearms on her knees, twisting her head to look at me.

“How many people on board?” she asks somberly.

She knows as well as I do, even if someone survived the crash, it’s unlikely they would’ve survived the elements for long.

“Three crew and four passengers,” I share. “The plane belongs to Vallard Logistics and members of the Vallard family were on board.”

We were told it was the family matriarch plus her oldest son and his family who were on the plane. The son is acting CEO for what apparently is a large, worldwide transportation company. We’re talking big money, which is probably why Ewing said we’d not only have multiple state and federal agencies involved in this search, but the press wouldn’t be far behind.

“Oh no. A family? Kids?”

“I heard one kid. An eleven-year-old girl, both her parents and her grandmother.”

Jillian turns to face away, softly shaking her head.

Yeah, I feel the same way. Any time kids are involved—hurt, or possibly dead—it hits hard.

I’m sure I am not the only one still experiencing an occasional nightmare after we discovered the body-dumpingground of a couple of perverts who snatched young girls off the street last summer. We were able to rescue only one girl who survived hell and will never know a carefree life again.

Jillian had been the one to actually find what was left of the bodies of the other missing girls with the help of her cadaver dog, Emo.

“Do you think my guys and I could be of help?” she suddenly asks.

I glance over. “Right now it would be a wild-goose chase. Maybe once we have a more defined area, but it’ll be tough going on foot.”

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