Page 14 of Trusted Instinct
And as he would expect, she said, “Yup. Go! Go now. Bring that baby back to their mama.”
Auralia pivoted to go back to her videographer, Doli, probably to report this as a possible story.
But there was a noticeable air of relief that changed her posture.
Maybe she wasn’t ready for this revelation to Gator. And despite what they’d shared on the canopy bed that morning, maybe she wasn’t fully convinced aboutthem.
Chapter Three
Creed
On Cerberus Team Charlie search and rescue missions, each team member performed a specific job.
There was the team leader who called the shots in the field, which would be Striker in this case. The leader pointed a finger and said, “Go there. Do this.”
The K9 search teams were assigned an area to search. Typically, they entered that grid area as a group of three: the K9 and its handler, followed by a walker. The reason they went out in groups of three was that the K9 followed the scent, the handler kept the K9 safe, and usually handled the land navigation. The walker had their head up, looking 360 degrees to keep the K9 team safe and time-oriented.
In this case, Rou and he were on their own, with his high-tech shirt serving as a land navigation aid, freeing Creed to keep his eye on the surroundings.
This made sense for now.
If the kid had gone missing a short time ago and they had a good scent source from the mom—a shirt, a shoe—then Creed and Rou could probably overtake the kid. The winds were picking up, but not so much that they would have blown the scent cone all over kingdom come.
The part of the search team that Creed wished was on-site was the manager—the one who did the intake and asked the vital questions. And more importantly, who was able to extract the necessary information from an emotionally distraught family member.
There was no doubt in Creed’s mind that he’d found the right woman because she was wide-eyed and pale-faced, staring out toward the wood while she crushed her toddler in her arms and rocked to soothe the little one as he fought to be free of his mother’s crushing anxiety.
Creed moved forward and took a knee within her view, but not directly in front of where she was staring, so if she was holding on to a sighting, she could maintain the connection.
“Ma’am, Creed Duchamp, Cerberus Search and Rescue Team, my dog, Rougarou. I understand a child wandered off.”
The child in the mom’s arms turned his snot-covered, tear-streaked face toward him with a look that pleaded for help.
Creed gently reached out and pulled the mom’s arms to loosen them.
It seemed to bring her back into her body. She looked down, startled to see what had happened to her kid. “Sorry, Cabell. Mommy’s sorry, kiddo.” She sat him on the blanket and reached for a baby wipe and a juice box. The baby wipe swiped over the kid’s face, then she flipped it to the clean side of the wipe and swiped again before she thrust the juice box in his direction.
The kid pulled the plastic straw from the side and held it out to his mom, who was back to staring into the woods and not paying attention to the child beside her.
Creed unwrapped the straw and pressed it into the hole, “Here you go.”
The mom’s chest was heaving and her hands shaking; she looked like she was about to burst into tears, and that would help no one.
Creed, after almost a decade and a half in war and explosives training, had hearing loss. If this woman were speaking through sobs, Creed simply wouldn’t be able to make out the words he needed to understand in order to act.
“Ma’am. I need your attention, so I can get after your child. Can you tell me about your child? Is it a boy or a girl?”
“Boy.”
“Good. And how old?”
“Seven.”
“Do you have a picture of him?” he asked, picking up the woman’s cell phone and handing it to her. “Maybe a picture from today, so I know what he’s wearing? Maybe one standing up?”
She swiped the phone open, held it up to her face to unlock it, flipped through the photos, and then handed the phone to Creed. “That was right when we got here.”
Creed took the phone from her and laid it on his knee, then took a picture of the picture, sending it on to Iniquus Logistics to have on record. He pulled a field notebook from his pocket, along with an all-weather pencil, and handed it to the mom. “Can you write down your name and this cell phone number. As soon as I locate him, I can get in touch and let you know what’s happening.”
