Whittenhall stiffened. Confusion and something else Patrick didn’t like crossed the agent’s face. “I didn’t talk to you.”

“Then who...who called? Someone from your office called to say there was a marshal on that plane, and he insisted that one of your men be on my hasty team.”

The other marshal muttered under his breath and pulled out a cell phone. He handed the umbrella off to his supervisor and stepped away to make a call.

Whittenhall was staring at Patrick. “You’ve got one of my agents out there? Looking for that wreck?”

Patrick nodded. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

What the fuck is going on? Patrick’s temper was fluctuating back and forth. Switching from anger at the abrupt marshal to anxiety for his team.

“What time was this phone call? When did your team head out?” Whittenhall snapped.

“You.someone called at the crack of dawn. The team headed out at eight o’clock this morning right after your agent got here.” Patrick forced the words out between clenched teeth. He didn’t like the growing red hue of Whittenhall’s face. Looked like he was about to blow an artery. Patrick glanced at the wet crowd of reporters. They all had pointed their noses his way. They could sense something was up. As Patrick watched, one reporter approached the deputy who’d let the two agents inside the perimeter, his digital recorder ready.

“I didn’t send any marshal, and no one from my office called you. I wasn’t informed that plane was missing until eight o’clock this morning. At that point, no one could tell me what had happened. It was midmorning when I found out a search and rescue was already in gear and they were sure it was my missing plane. I immediately drove down from Portland when I confirmed the news.” Whittenhall spit the words, his face contorted with anger.

Patrick’s throat closed. “So who the fuck is out with my team?”

They’d been in the forest for five hours, and Alex was ready to go home. It had never stopped raining. He’d slipped twice, tripped over countless roots, and stepped in mud up to his ankles. So much for the new boots. An hour ago, his right leg had started to cramp. A physical reminder that he was there for only one reason. Get to the plane ASAP. Not to get distracted by a woman. Not to enjoy a chat in the rain.

There could be danger on that plane that he needed to meet face-to-face. He had to be mentally ready.

Alex’s leg was still aching, but there was no way he was gonna mention it. He wasn’t going to slow the team’s pace even if he thought he might be wasting his time. No one could have survived that plane crash. If someone did, he was going to drown in all this fucking rain.

Kiana chose that moment to rocket back to Brynn from some point far ahead on the trail. The dog’s gorgeous fur was soaked, and her feet looked like she’d been dancing in chocolate sauce. She galloped by him, and Alex’s gaze followed her to Brynn as she greeted the dog at the end of the line.

“Good-looking dog. What is she?” he asked Ryan.

“Mostly Alaskan malamute. Brynn says her blue eyes show there’s crossbreeding somewhere in her line.”

The slight twang in Ryan’s voice made Alex think of the old television show Hee Haw. Ryan was an interesting blend of surfer, country cop, and polite mama’s boy. The guy seemed to genuinely like the outdoors. Always smiling, rarely griping about the rain and muck. Just like Brynn.

“Brynn usually do trips like this?”

Ryan shrugged. “We all do a couple dozen a year. Most aren’t as involved as this. Some last half a day.”

“How do you fit in a job with a crazy schedule like that?”

Ryan dropped back to walk beside Alex. Earlier the younger man had been helpful, pointing out various animal signs and identifying plants even though Alex had never asked. Alex was more than ready for a distraction.

“Well, for Thomas and Jim and me, our departments have committed us to when we’re needed. Each police department has at least one man in SAR.”

“And Brynn? She’s not a cop.” Alex knew that in his gut.

“Nah, she works for the medical examiner’s office. She’s a forensic nurse. Death investigator. Comes out to our scenes when there is a suspicious death and we need an investigator with medical knowledge. She’s good.”

“Like CSI?” Alex would have never connected the sunny woman with such a grisly job.

Ryan choked out a laugh. “Don’t let her hear you say that. She hates that show. No high heels for that woman.”

Brynn in heels and a smile popped into Alex’s mind. The image looked good to him. Real good.

“Where’ve you competed in triathlons?” Ryan asked with eager interest. “Hawaii?”

Alex pressed his lips together and glanced away. He’d never entered a triathlon in his life. “What? What makes you think I did triathlons?”

Ryan’s blue eyes widened. “On the phone. Your boss told Collins you did triathlons. That’s how he convinced him you were fit enough to join our team.”

Alex snorted. “He exaggerated. Wanted to get me on your team. He knew I’d keep up. Mentioning triathlons was probably the fastest way to convince the sheriff.”

Ryan paused to absorb that reason then laughed. “Shit. That was cocky.”

“Yeah, he’s been known to say whatever it takes to get the job done.”

“By the way, are you armed?” Ryan’s eyes scanned Alex like he could see through his jacket to the gun below his arm, the second gun he’d discreetly tucked in his borrowed pack, and the knife in his pocket. The backpack was rubbing at odd spots on his shoulder holster and he wished he hadn’t worn the heavy 9 mm Beretta. When he had a chance, he’d switch it with the lighter SIG and belt holster in his pack.