“There’s a strain of rose quartz and red shale that runs through this ridge. That’s what the ridge is named for,” Cole said.
“Redstone,” Sophie murmured.
It warmed his heart to see how much fun his daughters were having. It had been a tough, emotional month since Sophie had been kidnapped in April, and his family had been in recovery mode. If there were a bright side to the experience, it would be that it had drawn them closer, especially the two sisters. They seemed to appreciate one another more now.
Angie drifted into the field of flowers, picking a handful as she went. Cole watched her from the corner of his eye as he squatted near Sophie, helping her focus on the ridgeline. Things were safe enough up here in the mountains, but he kept his guard up at all times with the kids. They were no longer allowed to come home from school alone. Either he or their housekeeper, Mrs. Gibbs, had to be there to meet them at the bus stop. He’d set a rule that he needed to know where the girls were at all times; everyone had a cell phone now, Sophie included, and they were expected to check in with one another if plans changed during the day.
Their family counselor had told him he should probably lighten up a bit, but he’d be hanged if he could do it. Maybe in time.
Coming out from the tree line, Bruno bounded across the meadow, carrying a brown chunk of wood. The dog seemed to be having as much fun as the girls.
“Oops, I lost the focus,” Sophie said, fiddling with the adjustment dial.
Cole reached for the glasses. “Here, let me see if I can get it back for you.”
After placing the binoculars against his eyes, Cole could see that the sheep had moved away from them enough to become a blur. He concentrated on bringing back the sharp detail of the ram’s head, the huge brown horns, the fathomless depths of his golden eyes.
A shriek made him snatch the glasses from his face and search out Angela, finding her about forty yards away. She was backing away from Bruno, her mouth open in horror, her hands raised.
Bruno dropped his shoulders into play position, rump still up, but then he lay down, watching Angie in confusion.
Cole rushed toward her. “What is it?”
Angie kept backing, her eyes glued to a spot between her and the dog.
“Is it a rattlesnake? Angie, stay still!” Cole ran toward his daughter, pulling his Smith & Wesson .38 Special revolver from a concealed holster under his jacket, extra protection for his daughters that he’d decided to carry today.
Hand to her face, Angie whirled and ran toward him. Holding his pistol ready at his side, he opened his free arm and caught her up against his chest. She collapsed into him.
Bruno picked up the piece of wood and began trotting toward them.
Angie yelped. “Stop him! Make him put it down.”
“Bruno, down!” Why was she so upset? Angela wasn’t the type of kid given to hysterics.
Bruno dropped down, looking at Cole for his next command. Cole was close enough now to see that the object the dog held in his mouth was not a chunk of wood. He spoke quietly to Angela. “What is it?”
She trembled as he held her tightly against his side. Her voice quivered. “It’s a boot. Th-there’s a foot inside it.”
“What?”
“It’s b-burned. But it looks like a foot.”
For a moment, his mind couldn’t process what she’d said. The fire was decades ago. There was no way a human foot could still exist without being completely decomposed.
Sophie came up beside them and latched onto Angie, looking frightened. “What’s going on?”
Cole squeezed Angie and studied her face. She’d reached out to hold Sophie, but she was looking up at him as the three of them stood together in a tight little knot. “Can you take care of your sister for a minute?” he asked.
She nodded as she released him and put both arms around her sister. Cole swept a quick glance around the meadow while he approached Bruno, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“Bruno, drop.” Bruno released what Cole could now see was a boot blackened by fire. The dog looked up at him with a panting grin. “Stay.”
With his toe, Cole nudged the boot away from Bruno and set it topside up so he could peer inside. Charred flesh. And the flash of white bone. Now he could smell the stench of decomposition. Horror twisted his stomach.
“Bruno, leave it. Komm her.” For emphasis, Cole told Bruno to ‘come’ in German, the language of his original training.
The bilingual dog looked at the boot longingly, but obeyed and left it.
“Come with me.” Cole gripped Angela’s arm with his free hand and guided the kids back toward the horses. Angie held tightly onto Sophie, their faces pale beneath their previously rosy cheeks. He scanned the area as he rushed them toward the cover of the trees. He called Bruno back when the dog tried to split away and reclaim his prize.
Once they reached the edge of the forest, Cole turned to Angie. “I’m afraid some animal might come and take it away, so I need to bag it and take it to the sheriff’s office. I’ve got a trash bag in the pannier. You and Sophie stay here.”
Sophie started to cry softly. Although typically not susceptible to tears, his youngest had suffered some tough times, and she was clearly terrified. “What is it?” she said. “What are you guys talking about?”
Cole bent over her and drew her into a one-armed hug. “It’s a burned boot, and it might be evidence that there’s been some sort of a crime. We don’t know, but we need to be cautious, okay? You don’t need to be frightened.”
“B-but Angie is.” Sophie looked up at him. “You look scared, too, Dad. And you’ve got your gun out.”
He realized that his fear for his daughters’ safety might be getting the better of him, but he didn’t know what he could do about it. His mind had already jumped to the worst. What if this guy had been killed? And what if the killer was still up here?
THREE
Once again Angie led their small party through the forest, but this time Cole clutched Sophie on the saddle in front of him rather than allowing her to sit on her own mount. If they needed to run for any reason, he feared she wasn’t experienced enough to control a horse and keep her seat. He’d holstered his pistol, but had taken off his jacket so that he could easily access his weapon if necessary.
Without touching the boot, he had scooped the grisly object into a garbage bag and had tied it onto Honey’s saddle for transporting down the mountain. He’d thought about leading the mare, but eventually decided to let her follow the other horses, and he’d tied her reins around her neck loosely so that she could travel unencumbered. If someone came after them, he was willing to risk losing the horse.
A branch snapped behind him, making him turn and search the trees. Nothing. Now every sound felt threatening. Even the white thunderheads building in the sky seemed ominous.
“I’m hungry,” Sophie murmured.
Cole remembered that she’d been the only one who hadn’t seen and smelled the foot—of course she was the only one who still had an appetite. “I’ll get you some food from our picnic when we get down to the truck.”
After they rode away from the old burn site, the pine and spruce grew dense and tall, shutting out sunlight and sending a chill down Cole’s back. Who was this person, and how did he die?
Angela was scanning the area as she rode, her face white and tense. Mountaineer rarely needed guidance, and he plodded down the trail through rocky footing and across streams with the sure-footedness of a mountain pony. Dirty patches of snow dotted the north side of the hill, with rivulets of pure water trickling downward. His horse splashed through another muddy stream and climbed the bank on the other side. Honey followed, wanting to stick with her herd-mate.