“What is it?” Lindsey asked. She pulled the dog away, searching for the entrance she knew had to be there. “What did you find?”
In the distance she could hear Eric shouting her name. She couldn’t answer; shocked surprise at her discovery had momentarily left her speechless. Lindsey reached into the hollow and pulled out a sleeping bag….
With a living, breathing little girl.
Rangers’ winter cabin
Afternoon, same day
“GOT IT. OVER AND OUT.” Eric switched off the radio at the desk and came out of the ranger office.
“Get a positive identity on the girl, Boss?” Keith asked as he carefully waxed his skis in front of the fire. “She’s gotta be the one we’re looking for.”
“Yeah, she is. The description matched. Pamela Wilson. Daughter of Joyce and David Wilson. He was jailed for assault and battery, then the wife filed for divorce with full custody. The court granted both, and when the paperwork was served, the ex became enraged and broke out soon after.”
“If I’d escaped from jail, I’d certainly find better living quarters than the snow.” Keith shook his head. “What kind of father leaves a kid alone in the dead of winter?”
“One who’s armed and wanted by the police for kidnapping. We’re damn lucky he wasn’t around at the time.” Eric looked toward the women’s closed bedroom door where Lindsey and Naomi had taken the child to be examined, tended and warmed. The thought of Lindsey walking into the kidnapper’s base chilled his blood. She could just as easily have walked into an ambush with the father! He’d have to have a talk with her—with all of them—about taking extra precautions.
“Is he missing?” Keith asked. “Or dead?”
“Neither,” Eric said. “I saw the child’s shelter. It was first rate—an Inuit probably couldn’t have done any better. Whoever he is, the fool knows his way around the outdoors. He did a good job of keeping his daughter hidden.”
“Speaking of good jobs, it didn’t take our replacement long to make the find, did it?” Keith switched skis. “And with a dog she’s only had one day. Talk about luck—and skill. I’m impressed.”
“That’s Lindsey for you.”
The bedroom door opened and Lindsey stepped out, much to Ginger’s delight. The dog had been shut out of the bedroom and away from the young patient.
“Speak of the devil,” Keith said, adding, “How is she?” at the same time that Eric asked, “How’s the kid?”
“Naomi says that on the whole, she’ll be okay. A small frostbite patch on her nose. Her toes are worse. Naomi couldn’t say if she’d lose any. She’s a little dehydrated, but not underweight. Ginger, calm down.” Lindsey searched through the pantry. “Naomi says there’s some IV bags with Ringer’s lactate solution in here somewhere?”
“On the left,” Eric said.
“Your sister’s more worried about her mental condition. The child’s not speaking right now. Do we have confirmation on the name yet?”
Eric nodded. “Pamela Wilson. Goes by Pam. She’s six years old, and her mother has full custody. From what I’ve been told, the father decided to take the daughter and run, after the wife filed for divorce—seems the bastard likes beating his family,” Eric said with disgust.
“Yosemite is no place to escape—or to hide a child!” Ginger stopped prancing at the harshness in Lindsey’s voice. The dog went back to the hearth to quietly observe the proceedings.
“No, it’s not.” Eric passed Lindsey an IV bag.
“Why did he come to the park in the first place? Why are the police so sure he’s in Yosemite?”
“They said he grew up in this county. Used to bring his wife and daughter on camping trips all the time. Considering how well he knows the area, we’re lucky you found Pam.”
“Ginger did. I got dragged along for the ride. Naomi wants a butterfly needle. Says they’re best for little veins.”
Eric passed that sterile packet to her. “The father’s still out there. He’s not going to be happy that we took his daughter.”
“Obviously the mother’s frantic to see her again. If only we could chopper Pam out,” Lindsey said. “And chopper some police in.”
“We’ll just have to pack her out,” Keith said.
“I don’t think the weather will hold.”
Lindsey and Keith both gazed toward the barometer on the outer porch. “It’s falling?” she asked Eric.
“No, but it will. We’ll soon have more snow than any of us can handle, let alone a small child.”
“Are you sure?” Keith asked.
“He’s never wrong about the weather.” Lindsey collected the supplies.
“I can hope. Damn,” Keith muttered.
“If it grounds us, it’ll ground her father,” Eric said. “For now, that’s a plus.”
Lindsey echoed Keith’s reply. “We can hope,” she said as she headed back to the women’s bedroom with Naomi’s supplies.
AN HOUR LATER, both women emerged; Lindsey first, Naomi following, leaving the door slightly ajar.
“Poor thing’s out like a light. She has a slight fever, too, but that’s probably from the frostbite. I’m hoping after she’s rested and hydrated she’ll take some broth.” Naomi headed for the sink to wash her hands. “And she’s on a bedpan until I say otherwise. I don’t want this child outside or on her feet for any reason.”
“Is she well enough to be evacuated?” Eric asked.
“Assuming her father lets us out of here…I think so,” Naomi grabbed a towel to dry her hands. “I’m going to go back and sit with her for a while.”
“I’ll reassign the chores,” Eric said. “With Lindsey here, it won’t be a problem.”
“I need to let Ginger out again,” Lindsey said. She wouldn’t bother with the leash this time. Ginger had followed her commands out on the trail. Lindsey didn’t feel that Ginger had truly bonded with her, yet, but the dog seemed to have accepted her authority.
Eric reached for his coat. “I’ll come with you.”
Outside in the white stillness of Yosemite snow, Yosemite granite, they watched Ginger sniff and trot and sniff some more.
“Fussy, isn’t she?” Eric said.
Lindsey turned her face to him. “She doesn’t strike me as fussy. I think she just has a great nose. Lucky for us.”
“We’re going to need more than luck,” Eric said. “I’m sure the father’s still alive and kicking, and that means he’s a threat. With his skills…”
Lindsey gave him her full attention. “Yes?”
“He’s trouble. Think about it. That shelter was expertly built, and would’ve served any experienced outdoors person well. You just happened to come across the child when he was out—probably gathering fuel.”
Lindsey blinked. “I didn’t notice any signs of a second person.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Because you always watch the dog—and gauge your reactions by the dog’s reactions.”
She flushed, her cheeks turning red in the evening cold. “That’s what a good dog handler is supposed to