Page 44 of Colton First Responder (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

“Hey, Grayson.” Chad answered immediately. “Can’t talk. Looking for a young guy missing since the quake, and Winch just alerted on a scent.”

“The kid’s?”

“Yeah. His family thought he went in this direction, and some locals saw some footprints

in this area earlier today, though they didn’t lead to the kid.”

“How do I find you?” Grayson quickly told Chad where he was and got directions—about ten miles ahead of him. “Thanks,” he said but realized Chad had already hung up.

Grayson saw no additional cars out here—not until he reached the general area Chad had described. Several cop cars and an ambulance were parked there. Grayson parked, too, and got out.

He introduced himself to an officer standing beside his vehicle, staring into the distance. The area was mostly covered with sand and light patches of dirt, with quite a few cactus plants rising toward the blue sky that way, in the direction Grayson assumed Chad and Winch had gone.

Which turned out correct, according to that cop. And so, after putting on his sunglasses, Grayson rushed ahead.

In a few minutes he saw a small crowd ahead, some in uniform. He sped up to join them, then hurried to the front of that line.

Which was where Winch, at the end of the leash attached to the back of his K-9 vest, pulled Chad along behind him. Chad was holding a T-shirt, presumably one worn by the missing kid and provided by his family. One of K-9 Winch’s skills was following a scent.

Chad saw Grayson then and motioned for him to catch up. “Looks good,” he shouted.

In seconds, Winch found the missing kid he’d alerted on. Grayson couldn’t believe his good luck—he’d happened to be there just at the right moment. The teen was sitting on the ground in the shadow of a cactus.

Seeing the dog, the young guy screamed and rose and stumbled toward Winch, throwing his arms around the dog’s neck as he began crying. “Thank you, thank you,” he managed between sobs. Thin and pale, he wore jeans and athletic shoes and a gray T-shirt, all of which appeared filthy and in bad condition—and no wonder. He’d apparently been wearing them for around three days out here with no food or water or shelter.

“You’re Marty?” Chad asked.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I want to go home.”

“Absolutely,” Chad said, and Grayson noticed that a lot of the people who’d been back around the vehicles had now joined them, including an EMT who began examining the young man. Then there were a few people filming what was going on. Were they live on social media or just recording everything?

In any case, it didn’t hurt to give First Hand a little publicity. They’d earned it, thanks to Chad and Winch. And since Chad was being kept away from Marty by those tending to his health, Grayson approached and held out his hand to his employee. “Great job, Chad. And Winchell.” Grayson bent to pat the sitting, panting dog on the head between his pointed ears. He was glad Chad was wearing a First Hand shirt—a blue one—and he gestured toward it. “Our company, First Hand First Responders, is really proud of you.” And Grayson was bold enough to smile at the cameras.

Chad laughed. “That’s a bit over the top, boss—but you know we’re both proud to be private first responders for your company. Aren’t we, Winch?”

At his name, the dog looked up at him and gave a quick bark, causing nearly everyone around there to laugh as Chad stroked Winch’s back.

Grayson had an urge to pat his human employee on the back and to let Chad know he’d get a bonus for this. He didn’t do either...yet. But he would.

Grayson told Chad, “Go ahead and hang out here for a while in case more help or information is needed. I’ve got to run—but I can’t tell you how glad I am that I saw Winch and you in action and doing so successfully.”

“I can guess, boss.” Chad aimed a salute his way, and Grayson, saluting back, turned to head toward his car.

Well, something, at least, had gone well that day. And now it was time for Grayson to start picking up those supplies for Savannah.

Savannah. If only he could help her reach as successful a conclusion as this.

But how? Getting her inept attorney into the media the way this had been picked up?

He just wished he had more answers—and could get them quickly.

* * *

Okay, Savannah thought. Patience. She needed patience.

She also needed to hear from Grayson.

It was late afternoon. Had he seen Ian Wright yet? If so, what did he think now about her lawyer?

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