Made to Be Broken (Nadia Stafford 2)

He headed around to the passenger side. I got in and waited for him.

Chapter Eleven

Having searched the east side of the campsite, I started a fresh grid on the west. It seemed unlikely that anyone would have taken Sammi more than a half kilometer into the dense woods.

After almost two hours, I found a patch of disturbed earth less than a hundred feet from the main road. The sun was setting, as it would have been when Sammi walked by, good enough to see, but not to see well. I fought the urge to start digging and simply marked the location by sticking the string roll over a tree branch.

I headed back for the truck.

"Need something?" Jack asked.

I headed at the sound of his voice. In the last two hours, he'd said maybe a dozen words, as he silently poked around, letting me work.

"Need something?" he repeated.

"Stuff."

I retrieved my larger flashlight, and came back to find Jack hunkered down by the disturbed earth.

"Something dug here," he said. "Be careful. Re mem ber - "

I slapped the flashlight into his hand, cutting him short. "Shine it on me, so I don't miss anything."

I pulled on a pair of gloves, crouched, and examined the spot under the glare of the Maglite. It wasn't a large area - less than six square inches of bare earth where something had cleared away the layer of rotting leaves. Claw marks scored the ground, each the size of fork tines. The animal had dug down an inch or two, then given up.

There was a dark, wet-looking patch in the center of the spot. I picked up a clump of dirt, crushed it between my gloved fingers, and looked closer. It was dry, just darker than the surrounding earth. I ground another clump between my thumb and forefinger. Jack shone the Maglite on it.

"Blood," Jack said. "Here, let me - "

"Got it."

I gently swept aside the disturbed earth. Beneath the thin layer the animal had scraped through, the ground was hard. You can pack a hole as tightly as you want, but you can never cover the signs of disturbance. Blood had seeped into the ground here, but nothing was buried beneath it.

I took a moment to wipe off my hands, gaze down, not letting Jack see how relieved I was.

Then I shifted onto my haunches and looked around. Something had come through here, damaging bushes and low-hanging branches to the north, the direction of the road, and to the southwest. I knew the disturbance couldn't have taken place more than a week or so ago because the exposed wood of each break was fresh, and new leaves hung from the broken end of the twigs, still surviving on stored food.

Despite the obvious signs of passage, the site showed no ground-level indication that anyone had passed this way. Fallen leaves carpeted the ground beneath the broken twigs. Not a single inch of bare earth was exposed. Perfectly undisturbed. Too perfect. All around this patch, dead and fallen leaves lay in heaps and clumps, the earth peeking through. Someone had covered his tracks here.

I proceeded southwest. I didn't need to search for broken branches and twigs. The too-perfect layer of leaves stretched out before me like a red carpet. Less than fifty feet later, it ended at a clearing.

I flexed my hands, inhaling to calm my galloping heart, then crept on my hands and knees to the middle and began clearing leaves. Without a word, Jack set up the flashlight to shine on the patch, then started working at the other side.

Within minutes we'd found a tightly packed patch of upturned earth.

Staying on my knees, I cleared the area and marked the perimeter of the hole. Two feet wide. Just over five feet long. Once it was clear, I eased back and sat there, staring at it.

I stood, hands shaking as I brushed dirt from my pants.

"I need - " The words snagged in my throat. I'd been working so long in silence it was hard to speak. I cleared my throat. "I have to go back to the truck and get - "

Jack stepped up beside me, holding a shovel. I hadn't even noticed he'd left.

"Here," he said. "You sit. Rest. I'll - "

"No."

I took the shovel and scraped off layers of dirt, rather than digging. If Sammi was here, I'd need to replace everything as it had been and find a way to lead the police search in the right direction.