“Yes,” Matt said. “The rubber bottoms will give him some grip, protect him from any sharp edges in the ice, and keep snow from accumulating between his pads.”
Brody took three paw-shaking steps before he settled into the boots. He didn’t love them, but he’d wear them because he wanted to work. Once he focused on the scent, he wouldn’t even remember they were on his feet.
Brody led them across fifteen feet of ice. The thin ice at the edge of the lake cracked under their weight. The sound echoed across the lake. Matt paused, but the ice held. It became thicker a few feet farther onto the water, but late-winter ice always made him nervous. The frozen lake surface wasn’t completely smooth, and their boots found traction on ridges and other surface imperfections, but they moved slowly.
Bree gestured toward the ice at her feet. “Alyssa says the shooter was standing in this area.”
Brody sniffed the ground, and Matt let the dog have some leash.
Brody sniffed in circles. He put his nose to the ground, then lifted his head to test the air. Within a few minutes, he was off, meandering at first. Then he picked up speed as he settled on the scent.
Matt slid as the dog pulled. He righted himself. “Be careful, Bree. It’s slick.”
Bree followed a few steps behind them. Their pace was slowed by the slippery footing. Brody led them in a path parallel to the shoreline, about twenty feet from solid ground.
“The shooter probably walked on the ice so he didn’t leave footprints,” Bree said.
“Brody doesn’t need footprints. People constantly shed skin cells. They’re as good as flags for the dog.”
Matt controlled Brody’s pace. He didn’t want the dog slipping and hurting himself, especially after his stumble out of the SUV. They continued for twenty minutes, only covering about a quarter mile of frozen lake, before Brody stopped and circled again. Nose in the air, he angled toward the shore.
Flurries began to drift through the air.
“Will the snow hurt his ability to track?” Bree asked.
“It depends. Moisture in the air actually helps hold and trap scent close to the ground. That said, colder environments hold less scent in general. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Since there’s less scent confusion, it could help Brody find and stay on the trail.”
“But?”
“But if the snow accumulates on top of the scent, it can obscure it.” Matt glanced at the sky. “These flurries shouldn’t affect Brody one way or the other.”
“We’re supposed to get several inches later today.”
Matt shrugged. “We shouldn’t waste time, but Brody is very good.”
As if he heard the compliment, Brody pulled ahead, following the frozen shoreline. They walked in silence for a half hour, their progress halting as the dog stopped periodically to sniff and circle.
“Did you hear about the missing university student, Eli Whitney?” Matt asked.
“The one they’re looking for on the riverbank?”
“That’s him.”
Bree nodded. “He’s the reason I couldn’t get a K-9 team this morning.”
“How much do you know about the case?”
Bree glanced at him. “Just what I read on the BOLO alert. Why?”
Matt explained about Mrs. Whitney. “I promised her I’d look into it.”
“The BOLO was issued by the Scarlet Falls PD.”
“Do you know who’s running the investigation?”
Bree nodded. “A Detective Dane.”
“Thanks.”
Brody began to limp.
Matt stopped him. “What’s up, buddy?”
He checked the boots to make sure they weren’t rubbing against his paws.
“Is he OK?” Bree stopped next to him and frowned.
“I don’t know.” Matt straightened. They hadn’t gone far.
Brody turned his head and sniffed the air. He pulled forward, still limping.
“He doesn’t want to quit.” Bree sounded confused.
“He won’t ever give up voluntarily.”
Bree shielded her eyes and scanned the lakeshore. “The public park and boat ramp are just ahead.”
In summer, the park was a popular spot for people to launch boats, kayaks, and Jet Skis into the water.
Matt watched the dog take a few more clearly painful steps. “He’s done. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Even from a distance, Bree could see footprints from the ramp to the parking area.
Matt went down on one knee and checked Brody’s leg and foot again. When he palpated the dog’s shoulder, Brody flinched.
Bree frowned. “Can he walk back?”
“I’ll let him rest for a few minutes.” Matt watched his dog. Did Brody hurt himself jumping out of the SUV?
She started to walk ahead, her steps quickening, her stride gaining an excited bounce. “I see tire tracks in the parking area too.”
The dog moved to follow Bree.
“Easy, boy,” Matt said.
But Brody had a different plan. His nose shot into the air, and he lunged into the leash.
“Fuss!” Matt commanded him to heel.
Brody ignored him. Instead, he sniffed the wind and stared ahead. He lurched forward, dragging Matt to the edge of the lake. Instead of resisting, Matt gave up and let Brody have his head. He’d learned early on that he was holding the dumb end of the leash. The dog knew what he was doing.
Limping, Brody stopped next to the boat ramp. The area around the concrete looked like frozen swamp. Empty water bottles and other pieces of litter were piled up against the ramp and embedded in the ice. Clearly, this was a downstream point that collected debris. Brody sat down and barked.
“What is it?” Bree was right behind him.
“I don’t know.” Matt crouched next to the dog. The thin ice at the edge of the lake cracked under his weight. The sound echoed, and Matt’s waterproof boots broke through, sinking into a few inches of water. He brushed some drifted snow off the ice. Something thin and dark was suspended beneath it. A branch?
“What did he find?” Bree leaned over Matt’s shoulder.
He moved more snow with his glove. The ice cracked further, breaking apart and shifting on the water. The thing underneath was no branch.
Exhaling, he straightened and caught Bree’s eye.
Bree drew in a sharp intake of breath. Something bobbed to the surface between long, jagged sheets of ice.
A human hand.
CHAPTER SIX
Bree lunged forward. At the very edge of the lake, her boots crunched through the ice, and water sloshed over her ankles. The hand looked male. Was it the shooter? Depending on how long the man had been underwater, there might be a chance he could be revived.
She grasped the body by one of the biceps. Matt gave Brody a command. The dog lay down, then Matt took the man’s other arm. Together, he and Bree dragged the body onto the bank. Definitely male. He was dressed only in boxer shorts.
His skin was bluish-gray. Bree doubted he could be saved. But cold-water drowning victims had been resuscitated after being underwater for up to forty minutes. When she’d been a rookie patrol officer in Philadelphia, she’d pulled a kid out of the Delaware River. He’d been in the water for at least a half hour. It hadn’t seemed possible that he had been alive. Not only had he been resuscitated, he’d survived.