The Howling Cliffs E-Book

Mary Deal

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Sara Mason joins in searching for Huxley's MIA brother's remains in the Vietnam jungle. She is joined by her friend Esmerelda.

Later in Hawaii, Sara learns that a six-year-old neighborhood girl had gone missing ten years earlier. Something odd is going on at the nearby forest cliffs; someone wants this cold case to stay cold.

But even after attempts are made on Sara's life, she pushes on with the investigation and pursues the leads that take her on a path of danger. Can she solve the mystery of the Howling Cliffs?

Leseprobe

The Howling Cliffs

Sara Mason Mysteries Book 2

Mary Deal

Copyright (C) 2017 Mary Deal

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter

Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Dedicated to Bruce A. Hennell, USMC (Ret.)

Semper Fidelis

Prologue

Follow Sara Mason as she becomes involved in another cold case in this first sequel to River Bones.

From the River Bones story, Sara is stalked by a psychopathic killer in California's Sacramento River Delta. She meets Huxley Keane, the love of her life, and then loses him. But Sara and Huxley have built a history together, she having learned that he searches for the remains of his brother and the daughter of their mutual friend, Esmerelda, among other MIAs in Vietnam. Later, Sara agrees to become a decoy for the Sheriff's Department and falls into the clutches of the elusive madman who leaves no live witnesses as human skeletons keep turning up.

In this story, The Howling Cliffs, Sara and Huxley are deep in the jungle in Vietnam where they find one MIA's meager remains. As Huxley flies back to the United States to get them identified, Sara becomes involved in a cold case on the island of Kauai in Hawaii. Knowing someone wants to put an end to her investigations to keep a cold case cold, and tries to kill her to do it, leads to a half-crazed homicidal maniac who is just sane enough to keep suspicion off himself.

Chapter 1

Human bones are occasionally sighted along mountain streams in the Hawaiian Islands where Sara Mason had recently purchased a second home. Ancient burials at remote sites are washed away over time by the effect of torrential tropical rains on eroding lava cliffs and steep hillsides. Since those Hawaiian graves were never identified with markers, such bones could belong to a commoner or a King or Queen. No one could know, but bones along Hawaiian streams were more common than finding remains of American servicemen and women in the Vietnam jungle where Sara Mason, Esmerelda Talbot, Huxley Keane and the veterans' search party presently found themselves.

“The Yards found Palmer.” Sara glanced across the small clearing to the veteran who had become Huxley's best aide.

“Yes, the Montenyards, the Hmong people that Huxley told us about.” Esmerelda looked up into the treetops. “To think they used to live in this jungle.” Not that much to see existed anymore except struggling new trees, brush and scrub.

Sara, with Huxley's help, had developed the Orson Talbot Foundation in the Sacramento River Delta in California, named after Esmerelda's murdered husband. Beside the cold cases they worked on at home, Huxley had gotten her and Esmerelda approved to be included in the searches in Vietnam. Huxley and his team of retired veterans made at least one trip each year searching for his brother's remains, those of Esmerelda's daughter, and the other MIAs in the group of abducted medical personnel.

Animals previously found in Vietnam, such as elephant herds, Bengal tigers, crocodiles, and a variety of monkeys and birds, could easily have carried any human remains far away or even eaten them.

Then the forested areas were laid waste by the aerial spraying of Agent Orange and other defoliants. When Agent Orange was sprayed on a plant or tree, it sped up the growth through the trunks and stems and into the leaves at a rate the live plants couldn't handle and thus forced them to die. With no food growing anywhere, animals and other creatures starved and died.

“You know what I noticed, Esme?” Sara and Esmerelda sat detached from the group in a moment of private conversation.

“What's that?”

“The vets in this group, in these trips we've made with them, I've seen them age drastically.”

“I noticed that too.”

“It's as if this is their last objective in life and it's taking a toll on them.” Sara motioned with her eyes toward one of the men they had seen go completely gray over the few years since they had first met him.

“But not your Huxley. He's the mainstay here. He's much younger than these vets and he's strong and aggressive, just what these guys need.”

Sara glanced at Huxley in admiration. He stood tall and erect with broad shoulders and a determined expression. He was the picture of strength and endurance, the type of leader that kept morale buoyant. Framed by a full head of dark hair that he refused to shave off regardless of the present-day trend among many men, and dark brows, his blue-topaz eyes sparkled, even in the filtered sunlight of the forest.

April had passed, the time of year the majority in the group preferred to be in the jungle. The dry season was over and now gave way to escalating temperatures, causing the moist jungle floor to become insufferably humid.

Since the first trip they made with the group, Sara and Esmerelda accepted the sight of the crew, especially the Vietnamese in their camp, who would strip down to shorts and boots. They were on a mission and would do whatever necessary to accomplish their goal. The group had packed an enormous supply of bug repellant. Sara, Esmerelda and one-half of the photographic duo were the only women along and wouldn't be taking off much of their clothing. Sara and Esmerelda rested on some rocks at the edge of a stream. They removed their waterproof hats to give their perspiration soaked scalps a chance to breathe.

The search team followed a well-worn and widened trail through dense jungle and rocky terrain southwest of Krong Klang below Quang Tri in central Vietnam; the same trail used by the Viet Cong to escape with the MIAs for which the team searched. The ever-present fog and fine drizzle gave the forest a mythical aura during the daylight hours and an eerie cast under moonlight. Soon, it would be typhoon season north of the 18th Parallel. Hopefully no storm that strong would hit their location.

The sun broke through with penetrating heat stirring up the humidity and adding an additional bit of discomfort. In place of the majestic triple canopy of trees that stood before chemical defoliation, after the war mangroves were planted near all the streams and waterways. The Mangroves should have invited the return of birds. Yet, closing in on half a century later, not many were sighted or heard.

The estimate was that the normal forest would take well over one hundred years to grow back. Whole herds of wild elephants and other creatures died out from Agent Orange and other defoliants. It was hoped that any survivors crossed over to Laos and Cambodia. Not many elephants existed presently in Vietnam except in zoos. However, wild herds had recently been reported around Dac Lac, a Central Highlands province.

Sara and Esmerelda eyed each other's matted hair and chuckled. They were a pair! Sara's long natural sun-streaked blond hair with a few premature grays contrasted to Esmerelda's short, dyed jet-black waves. For convenience sake, Sara kept her hair braided. Esmerelda, having been away from a beauty shop for many weeks, had a lot of telltale gray beginning to show through her short coiffed strands.

On the outside they seemed different as noon and midnight. On the inside, they were closer than mother and daughter. On a day-to-day basis, both had reserves of energy and their thoughts and actions played off each other. Sara was naturally thin. Despite her age, Esmerelda would have no part of what she termed an old lady's shape. Being active kept them thin and fit, which was a prerequisite for joining the search team. They sipped bottled water and watched two of the crew interact over by some tall shrubs.

One was the former Marine 1st Lieutenant, Palmer Dane, forced out of the group by his VC captors, shot and left to die in dense jungle when he became weakened by dysentery. The VC were kept so busy trying to find their way, no one went back to check on him.

The other was the Yard, Thanh Van Thuy, who was not present during the prisoners' march through the jungle, but was one of the tribesmen who helped the U.S. military in Vietnam. The Montenyards were who found the 1st Lieutenant close to death in the bush and spirited him out of danger. Several of the rugged Hmong took turns carrying him on their backs, despite his dead weight. When the terrain got rough, they carried him on a makeshift stretcher of poles and reeds. He recovered at the NSA naval hospital near Marble Mountain at Da Nang.

After coming out of a three-day coma due to infection, when Palmer was able to clarify what the Hmong had tried to explain though unable to speak English, a search party was sent out for the others, but to no avail. As far as the search team was able to penetrate the jungle without compromising their own safety, they had found scant evidence that the trail had been used for anything more than normal passage through the forest.

“Hux found Thanh.” Sara spoke quietly and reverently there in the jungle. The Human Remains Detection canine that Hux usually brought was on a job elsewhere. “Hux contacted dog trainers in Honolulu and that's when he met Thanh.”

Chapter 2

During the Vietnam conflict, a young American junior senator turned his back on the Montenyards, who helped the U.S. military at every turn. Then most of the Hmong tribes people were slaughtered by the Viet Cong for their participation with U.S. troops.

Thanh's family were among the dead. Then Thanh and a group of refugees braved the Pacific Ocean in a rag-tag fleet of flimsy boats. Half of them died at sea. Boats broke apart and sank, drowning the occupants. Sharks attacked. Thanh's overcrowded vessel and two others barely made it to friendly waters off Hawaii. Fishermen rescued them. Thanh stayed, eventually gaining American citizenship and fulfilling a dream of becoming a Honolulu Police Officer.

While U.S. veterans were being compensated for their grave health issues caused by Agent Orange and other defoliants, Thanh and the Montenyards were denied benefits.

Thanh was retired now and donating his time working with HRD and other forensic trained dogs. Then along came Huxley seeking another animal for his next trip to Vietnam. Thanh found a new purpose when Huxley explained about looking for MIAs along a trail the VC used to march the prisoners. Hux and Thanh shared information, the most startling of which was Thanh's knowledge of many trails, particularly the one where Hux and other veterans had searched for MIAs each and every year for the past ten years. Thanh had been back to his home country and searched for surviving tribes people. He had traveled many of those same trails.

Before the slaughter, thousands of Hmong lived in the jungle. Over time, he found one cousin and few others. The Hmong lived their lives knowing about the acidic soil. The few Hmong remaining knew they would find no remains of their family and friends. Ruins of homes and other representations of life were still found, mostly metal items that wouldn't be claimed as easily back into the earth. Sometimes those scant remains were how the survivors found remnants of their former lives. While the Hmong had flourished living in the forests, they were now reliant upon their livelihoods from life in the villages that struggled to get restarted.

The biggest MIA lead came when Thanh told Huxley that the stream the search team followed had changed course more than a couple of decades earlier. They were missing a vital search area.

When Huxley was able to trust that Thanh would not lead them astray in the jungle as payback for U.S. war crimes, Thanh was accepted into the group to go to Vietnam with the HRD dogs. The former Marine 1st Lieutenant, Palmer Dane, was enthusiastic about having one of the Hmong participate. His feelings toward Thanh for the Montenyards having saved his life was overwhelming. Now the two were inseparable. One tall white-headed American and one short and stocky black-haired Vietnamese shared forgiveness that set them free.

“Hux's brother Rockford was a nurse, like my Betty.” Esmerelda continued to stare at the water gurgling around rocks below their feet. “Betty was elevated to 2nd Lieutenant when she enlisted, fresh out of nursing school in San Francisco.”

Sara was careful not to dangle her feet in the water. “You said she'd been here only two or three weeks.”

Esmerelda evidently needed to relive the memories made real again by their frequent trips. “They were working at the NSA naval hospital in Da Nang when they were kidnapped.” She shrugged in a sad way. “One by one, they were grabbed right outside the hospital or at the showers while cleaning up after some surgeries.”

“They took her in the dead of night.” Sara nodded, remembering what she had learned. “Along with a number of other nurses.”

“Palmer just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Esmerelda straightened her shoulders as if facing a bad memory head-on. “According to Palmer, they were bound, gagged and hidden in the backs of nondescript rickety old farm trucks and taken into the jungle. They were met by a large band of Viet Cong who marched them northward, possibly toward the Ho Chi Minh Highway. They thought they might be taken to a prison camp.” She sighed again with a far-away look in her eyes.

“That could have been true.” Sara had thought the same when she first heard the details.

“Maybe the Viet Cong were going to force them to treat their own wounded. The nurses didn't understand the language and really didn't know why they were taken or where they were in the jungle.”

Sara had heard most of the history. After a week on the trail, and judging by the purported actions of the VC, they and their hostages were lost. “Palmer said Betty was the first to get dysentery. Then he got sick.”

“Betty, a thin wisp of a thing, probably didn't last long before she dropped. To get dysentery that took them so fast, maybe they drank from a stream.” Esmerelda's eyes were glassy, the memory always bringing tears.

Esmerelda shouldn't dwell on how her daughter died. They needed to focus on finding her remains. “Esme,” Sara said, meaning to caution, but then hesitated.

However, knowing this, her third trip, or any trip could be her last if visas weren't approved each year, Esmerelda rested little and investigated everything that caught her attention. She admitted to feeling a great measure of peace just being in the jungle where her daughter last walked.

“Betty was allergic to bug bites, chemicals and lots of other stuff. The U.S. military was desperate for personnel if all they could manage was to send a person with her health issues to a place like this.” She shrugged and flashed a look of disbelief. “On top of all that, she had a rare blood type. AB Negative.”

“And that would affect her being here?”

“When she started nursing school, she used to donate her blood. Betty once commented that maybe the reason she was sent here was in case a wounded person needed her blood type.”

Sara shrugged, had thought the military was prepared for such emergencies with a stock of blood types. “Palmer told us Betty lagged behind because she had gotten weak. He was weak, too, so they forced him to leave the group. He was slowing them down.”

Though frustrated at hearing no new helpful information, Sara would help Esmerelda run through the details as many times as Esmerelda needed to hear it and no matter she didn't. “He ran into the bush with the VC shooting at him.”

“That's right. He took a bullet in the shoulder but found a place to hide and played dead, waiting for the entourage to pass.”

“And intending to make a break for it.”

Esmerelda dabbed at perspiration with the back of her hand. Sara passed her a tissue from her back pack. “He didn't know when or where Betty fell. He had been prodded forward at gunpoint and wasn't allowed to turn around to look backwards.” It was good that Esmerelda had learned from previous trips to forsake the use of makeup, at least while in the jungle. “If my daughter was one of the first to fall, when we find her it might make it easier to find some others.”

They couldn't stop now, had to have those permits and visas issued regularly.

Due to their large entourage of extras, including videographers and spotters carrying rifles to ward off everything from large wild animals to slithering tree snakes, Huxley had hinted that the Vietnamese government would not again permit another such grand procession.

“Every year, Huxley and some high-ranking retired veterans, along with the American government, have to convince Vietnam officials to issue permits for yet another trip.” Sara wondered what she might do to promote the permit approval but any possibility of that from her seemed nonexistent.

The group had already found the meager remains of one man four years earlier. “So if my Betty was the first to get sick, have they figured out how that man died?” She thumbed backward to the area they had long passed on the trail, where his remains were found.

Sara grimaced. “Huxley thinks he was shot. His remains were found a few yards off the trail.”

“Must have tried to make a break for it.” Esmerelda stared at the water, shaking her head. “If his remains were found that far off the trail, maybe some others went the same way. They may never be found.”

“Trust the dogs we have along, Esme. That's why they're so vital.”

Mosquitoes and other flying pests dived and swarmed around them. Sara retrieved a can of insect repellant from her backpack, liberally sprayed it onto her palm and fingertips and then wiped it over her face. She swiped a layer over Esmerelda's face. For the very reason of warding off biting insects, most in the group wore gloves, long sleeves and pant legs tucked into boots until the men could no longer stand the heat and began peeling off their clothes.

Most of the team wore a new line of clothing with insect repellant built into the fibers of the fabric, even into their boots and other accessories. Their hats were equipped with drop-down face netting, but repellant lotion applied to the skin was the best protection for faces. The humidity was stifling, made worse by the amount of gear they had to wear. No one complained. They had a solemn mission to accomplish.

Huxley and others in the group who had been studying maps laid out on the ground stood. It was time to push on. Thanh readied the HRD dog, Iwi, a German shepherd male trained to detect human remains.

Dogs trained for this work could detect the boundaries of ancient graveyards hundreds of years old, as long as remains existed below the surface of the ground. Despite the fact that the ground in Vietnam was considered so highly acidic that it destroyed human tissue and clothing, no one could take a chance of missing what remains might be left.

A second German shepherd male was also brought along. Laka was trained to detect metal and only metal. Laka wouldn't react to human remains if they rubbed his nose in some. Trained forensic dogs were amazing creatures. Considering the team had every advantage at their disposal, everyone stayed as positive as possible and kept a tight rein on desperation.

Chapter 3

Sara helped Esmerelda into her small backpack, used for carrying water and some nibble food. As determined as Esmerelda was, it didn't make sense to load down a woman in her mid-seventies with a full pack, even if she projected a prodding mother whose strength never quit.

Huxley, Thanh and several others joined them. Huxley gave Sara a squeeze around her shoulders and a special smile. She could never get enough of looking into his eyes. She and he had been, after all, a couple for years. She had reached midlife and Huxley was four years her junior. Friends speculated they would one day marry. It might happen. They shared the same energy levels, much the same each had in youth. Now they shared a common purpose in life that bonded them. Sara and Huxley had long ago sealed their commitment to one another and talked of marriage, but plans never matured. Sara came to realize that Huxley would not allow himself much happiness till he brought his brother Rockford home before his aging parents passed away.

This being their third Vietnam trip together, Sara turned over her renovated Victorian mansion in the Sacramento River Delta to the control of artist and lifelong friend Daphine Whelan for charitable events that took place while she was away.

After purchasing the Victorian that Esmerelda once owned, and then finding Esmerelda's long missing and murdered husband's body buried on the property, Sara felt something shift inside her, something emotional that helped cement her feelings for Huxley. She felt great empathy for those who had lost a loved one. Then Sara and Huxley decided to join purpose and commitment in searching for cold case missing persons.

In her more quiet moments at home, Sara's ability to quickly create cyber games on DVD continued to earn her a fortune. Sara quietly sponsored the cost of Esmerelda's trips. She loved this stoic woman and felt her pain, and because the MIAs needed to come home.

“See here.” Huxley held the map and ran a finger along one of the lines representing the trail they followed. “Thanh said this stream used to have a deeper horseshoe curve.” He also held up a page of yellow note paper on which Thanh had drawn the trail as he remembered it from years past with a much deeper bend.

The group had already been on the trail more than a week covering areas previously searched, but this time making a sweep with the new dogs. The trail skirted rivers and streams at water's edge where some in the prisoner group could have drunk tainted water. Only at one point did the trail take them to the top of a sheer rock cliff overlooking a massive swiftly flowing river.

If anyone had fallen from there, or been killed by the VC and pushed over, it was certain their bodies would be swept away, or eaten by the vicious and hungry crocodiles.

Strong wind passing between the monolithic stone facades on both sides of the river made them sound like howling cliffs. That, the dense jungle and the raging river sounds would drown out any screams of prisoner slaughter.

They had entered a deep valley heading around the bend in a stream. According to the map, the flow came from the southeast on their left, crossed in front of them heading north, and then doubled back heading northeast on the right before it straightened heading north again.

“If Thanh is right, where we are right now is part of the new flow after the stream changed course.” Huxley couldn't hide his excitement. “The older flow where the prisoners were led is not more than quarter mile from here.” He shook a finger, pointing westward and turned to Palmer. “You don't remember this bend being deeper?”

Palmer shook his head. “I was too sick. What I remember was that after we crossed the stream, we were forced through nearly impenetrable jungle till we came to where the stream straightened.” He motioned with the sweep of an arm to the north. “In that direction.” He, like all the veterans Sara had met, still remembered nearly all details of the traumas their lived through.

Huxley studied the map intently. “So while we've been looking for remains along this portion of the stream, we should have been searching ahead there where the stream used to flow.” He seemed filled with a new energy and waved the map as a sign to the others.

“Move out!” He gestured the direction they were to head.

Others in the group, retired officers and enlisted alike, all carried metal detectors. Two Vietnamese cooks accompanied the group. When not preparing meals, they acted as spotters for the sharp-shooters. At any time, an animal might lunge out of the bush, not to mention the menacing snakes that sometimes hung out of trees and could slither down in front of your face. Thanh's cousin, now an expert marksman and another Yard carried high-power rifles. The man and wife photographic team from Honolulu shouldered their gear. The single vehicle, a refurbished military Humvee rigged for rugged terrain, carried tents, food supplies, ammunition and bare necessities of living on the trail. Oftentimes, the trail had narrowed, overgrown with trees and shrubs. If they couldn't be hacked away, the Humvee had to find an alternate way to advance and later meet up with the group. The vehicle was also for Esmerelda's benefit, but she never once used it as transport.

The next time Sara looked, Esmerelda was already crossing the stream, hopping from one rock to another. The thick cut branch she used for a walking stick helped keep her balance. To fall into the water was to invite a host of leeches. Since defoliation, those blood-suckers had returned like a plague, if they ever totally left. Esmerelda kept her head down and shoulders hunched, searching for any sign at all that someone's remains lay just below the surface, even in the stream.

Sara caught up to her while some of the men found a less rocky crossing point for the Humvee. A commotion caused Sara to look back again. One of the scantily clad Hmong cooks braved the stream by wading through the water. Several men yelled, frantically reminding him to stay on the rocks and boulders. Surely no fish thrived in that stream. Even if found and caught, they couldn't be eaten due to Agent Orange contamination. Now the medic would need to stay behind with him to burn away the many leeches clinging to the Hmong's calves and shins. If not removed quickly and treated, in tropical climate the lesions could become badly infected, in many cases, leading to death. Fortunately, the team was medically prepared for such emergencies.

“He's lucky he didn't meet up with a water snake.” Sara had to smile but also grimaced in disbelief. Vietnam was home to some of the world's deadliest snakes, such as the King cobra, Asian cobra, krait, coral, vipers and pit vipers. A sobering thought.

Esmerelda never hurried, studying every inch of ground along the way. The dogs were used to double search every inch of ground and, as well, through the brush at the trail sides.

During the war, once a person died on the trail, the body could be shoved into the brush and out of the way. The dogs dictated the pace of progress the group made. The canines were allowed to rout where they may and usually left an area when not detecting anything.

Sara also searched, poking and probing with her own walking stick. Surely, with the news of a new search area, a few heartbeats quickened. The quarter-mile patch of new forest between the stream and where it had previously flown had not been traveled. Sara hacked at the shrubs with a machete. One of the Yards came to lay waste to some stout hanging vines, clearing a new passageway for the others.

At a thinning of the overgrowth, Esmerelda pushed ahead impatiently and then stopped and screamed. “It's here! Thanh was right. It's here!”

The old stream bed was nothing more than a dry wash littered with rocks and boulders. The accumulation of boulders could only have been placed there by forceful running water. Bare patches of ground had settled, were smoother, and clear. They were warned that Agent Orange might still be strong in the soil, including the dry stream bed. The shrubs and trees were gangly, as if struggling for life, with no mangroves having been planted at this abandoned site.

Huxley and Palmer joined them. With no trees growing along the stream bed, the area was open and the sun shone through. Palmer gasped as he looked fifty to seventy-five feet across a smooth flat stretch. “We were here! I can feel it!” He pointed to the other side. “There, we walked that low embankment that followed the stream, over there.” He and Huxley bent over the maps again.

Esmerelda moved ahead and Sara caught up. Along the embankment, it seemed the trail had been widened with some boulders placed on the shoulder of the path to prevent anyone from falling over the edge. They began examining the ground and along the embankment.

Sara was following behind when Esmerelda looked ahead a short distance then stopped suddenly. Sara watched her curiously.

Esmerelda seemed to spot something. Then she began moving ahead in a hurry. “Over there, something… shiny!”

Sara followed, noticing that Esmerelda kept her gaze locked.

They stopped at a patch of ground three or four feet above the dry streambed. Esmerelda kept her sight trained on one particular area near some shrubbery, hunched over closer to the ground, and slowly scanned every inch of soil. Then she gasped. “I've found something.” Then she yelled. “I've found something!”

Sara stooped down. Something shiny lay on the ground. Nothing was wrong with Esmerelda's old eyes spotting the sun glinting off that tiny object. Deep scratch marks in the dirt indicated that an animal had dug up something but evidently found it inedible. A tiny piece of broken material lay bare. Metal would have rusted or rotted over the decades. This was yellow and gleamed. Surely, it was gold.

Chapter 4

Sara rose from her knees, stuck her fingers into her mouth and whistled shrill enough to scare away any marauding forest creature. “Hey! Get the dogs over here!” Then she spat out the taste of bug repellant from her fingers.

As soon as Huxley and Palmer saw what lay on the ground, they exchanged slow wide-eyed stares. Sara's intuition read more into those secreted looks than she would speak at that moment.

Finding remains of anything had started adrenaline flowing.

“Clear the area, please, everyone.” But Huxley didn't move. Instead, he clasped his hands tightly, interlacing his fingers, and brought them to his face and bowed his head. It seemed he was the one who couldn't move.

Huxley had been the initiator of the continued searches for this particular group of MIAs, driven by the fact that Rockford was among them. Sara stepped forward again and wrapped an arm around his waist. Only then did he return into the moment and himself step aside and wipe his eyes.

The others had watched, caught up in a moment for which each lived and breathed; that of possibly locating another of the group of eleven kidnapped nurses, of which four had been women.

Laka, the metal detecting canine, sniffed the piece of gleaming gold and sat down, panted and wagged his tail frantically. This time no one needed a dog to tell them what was found. The gold fragment looked to be nearly two inches of links from a heavy chain necklace for a man. It looked to be in good shape. Surely, it was real gold. But why would anyone fighting a war wear a gold necklace? Many years had passed and it was possible someone else using the trail had lost a valuable piece of jewelry.

All GIs wore standard issue stainless steel beaded chains that carried two embossed dog tags. They had edges, bound with rubber silencers to keep them from clinking together and making noise. Silence was of utmost importance in battle situations. Surely, someone using the trail through the years had not haphazardly discarded a broken chain. Would anyone actually cast aside something as valuable as gold?

They kept an eye on the canines. Iwi wandered down the embankment and along the side of the stream. Just as Sara hoped him to be following a scent, he began wandering aimlessly, a sign of detecting nothing. When Laka was led away from the gold fragment, he pulled against his leash. Laka kept his nose to the ground easing down the shallow rocky embankment a couple feet to where some shrubs struggled to thrive. He sniffed over one small area, pawed, then sat down and waited. Again, his tail frantically flipped back and forth as his entire body squirmed in excitement. That meant more metal lay beneath the surface. Thanh threw a biscuit into Laka's mouth and led him away to continue searching nearby areas.

Iwi was brought back by the second handler in hope of him detecting human remains. He never once sat down. Finally the film team, who kept cameras rolling, stepped up to photograph the piece of gold linkage where it lay and the area over the embankment. Filming continued as the area was marked off for digging before the first speck of dirt was brushed away.

The main players on this team had long ago been instructed about how to turn the soil or clear the dirt from a find, dust speck by dust speck, inch by inch. Esmerelda sat on the ground and used a sifter to shake the moved dirt through, looking for more metal. She was methodical. Not a speck of dirt missed her scrutiny. Every clod of dirt was broken down. Every speck of dirt was pored over for shards of bones, not that Iwi had indicated any were present. Anything that sparked interest would be photographed and then bagged to take back to the United States for examination.

The digging and sifting of soil continued from the gold links to where Laka sat down a second time just over the embankment. One of the vets was down on his knees on the incline. He moved more dirt and suddenly gasped. “More gold!” By this time, most in the search team had crowded in as close as possible. The vet climbed the embankment and nervously stood aside for the filming. Then the piece was brought out of the ground.

Huxley got down on his knees and measured off the distance between where the first links were found and the second. Slowly, he straightened, holding the piece in his gloved palm. “Something broke this chain.”

Palmer reached with gloved hands to hold the piece. “Could have been animals.”

It was quite possible that if the gold wasn't discarded by a local person but worn by a G.I., after the person fell and died, animals could have ravaged the body. But would animals actually pull on the sturdy necklace so hard as to rip it apart and open those links at the breaks? It was also possible that a prisoner could have been brutalized and, while struggling with the attacker, broke the attacker's necklace.

Sara cringed at the thought of what might have happened that broke the neck chain. Once dead, the body could have been thrown into the rushing water and washed away as it decayed. Who knew how many and where bodies might have lain in water, surely tainting it. Wise old Esmerelda's changing expressions said she might be having similar thoughts.

After more digging and poking, nothing was found at the second spot. Laka was brought back for a final check. This time he sniffed and then began using his paws to scratch the hole deeper. He was led away. Huxley used a machete and chopped branches off the nearby bushes, clearing space to crawl around. Disregarding warnings of Agent Orange lingering in the soil, he took a turn at eagerly digging with his gloved hands. Finally, he accepted a shovel and dug a hole deep and wide, yet came up with nothing.

With the constant rains and water previously washing over the ground, soil could have built up over what it was Laka detected. They wouldn't leave the area till they found it. Clearing away a wider patch of top soil allowed Huxley to dig deeper in the center where Laka indicated. He worked feverishly, perspiration already dripping from his forehead. Huxley threw another shovel load onto a screened tray to be examined. Esmerelda and one of the Hmong gladly accepted it and sat on nearby rocks to examine it.

Just as Huxley was about to scoop out another shovelful, he paused, his foot never coming down on the shovel edge. Instead he threw the shovel aside. When Sara eagerly leaned forward to see, so did everyone else. Huxley reached into the hole and brought up a tiny piece of metal. It was the end of a dog tag!

Esmerelda asked to see it. With tears in her eyes, she picked up a tiny brush and lovingly swept away the dirt. “These fragments belonged to one of our people.” She had a way of touching things, holding things, like her valuable antiques, that told you how she felt about them. As with the gold links, everyone knew she was hoping the tag had belonged to her daughter, but gold on a military issue G.I. was implausible. The gold and the dog tag were most likely from two different people; the dog tag definitely from a service person.

Huxley dug further, searched a wider area and called Laka back again. With a piece of one dog tag found, they might find the accompanying piece or the other tag since all soldiers wore two. Nothing more was found. The sole fragment was so badly scratched and dented, what little remained of one or two original markings that would have started on the missing end were indecipherable. The partial tag represented one GI's remains. It and the gold links were all they had to go on, but somehow, they would figure out to whom the precious remnants belonged.

Huxley, Thanh and a couple of the other Vets continued to dig around the area while being filmed. Both dogs were brought back to again test the turned soil and give the entire area another sweep. Neither gave further reactions. After the findings were packaged and safely stowed, rest was in order.

A reverential hush had fallen over the group as each set about handling chores. It was late in the day and the cooks needed to start the evening meal. The Yards helped with setting up tube tents and pumping up air mattresses. The thick rubber tubes prevented mattresses from being placed directly on bare ground. The tent bottoms and the mattresses would absorb the effect of the rocks and pebbles beneath.

No other place to bed down existed unless some wished to sleep on beds of decaying leaves and twigs pungent with the musty smell of the forest floor; soft cushiony pads where snakes and other pests spent their nights.

As Sara concentrated on making herself as useful as possible, she couldn't help wondering how much Agent Orange might remain in the soil and even in the air they breathed. In any case, most in the group would die for their purpose. Sleeping on an air mattress above tainted ground remained only a passing thought at best. For safety, all tents were placed as close together as possible.

Through a break in the drifts of fog and clouds overhead, an almost full moon hung low in the sky. The tops of the trees rustled occasionally in the gentle wind, but not much breeze made it to the jungle floor.

The campfire was lit. The glowing light showed just how many insects and pests floated around them daily, and evidently into the night as well. Spotters would rotate watch while others slept, in case the fire might draw any large animals, even though it was said that only a few had returned to the area. This was a testament to the fact that animals knew the ground and foliage remained contaminated. With no animals to hunt for food, and few edibles any longer growing on trees and vines, any remaining Hmong had sought refuge in distant lands.

Around the fire, Palmer led a prayer of thankfulness for the finding of remains. Strong moonlight through the rustling branches and leaves cast flickering forest shadows across their faces. Thanh jumped up quickly and moved aside when the smoke suddenly shifted in his direction. For just a second, Sara caught a glimmer of fear in his expression when smoke enveloped him.

Ever since Huxley saw the first piece of gold his demeanor had changed. Sara and Huxley knew each other well. She had given her heart to him and he had promised his to her. Now she sensed that he knew something about the discovery but wasn't about to speak it to anyone until he had concrete evidence. That was his way and she deeply respected him for it.

Esmerelda leaned closer, as if to tell a secret. “Huxley told you about the key, didn't he?”

Sara smiled warmly, remembering. “Yes, during the first trip I made to his home in Oregon. It was the key to Rockford's girlfriend's apartment in San Francisco. She gave it to him when he shipped out. It was like a symbol of coming home again. He promised her he'd always keep it taped inside his shirt pocket next to his heart.” Sara stared at the ground. “Hux believes when remains with the key are found, or even just the key, they will have found where his brother died.”

Chapter 5

Sara and Esmerelda sat quietly, both staring at the ground but not seeing it. Lanterns were lit as night closed in. Palmer came to sit beside Sara on a boulder near one of the lanterns during the meal. Thanh joined them. The others sat within hearing range in the small clearing.

Esmerelda had been quiet for a long time before she spoke again. “Betty was among the first to fall, maybe the second.” That feisty woman would again speak of the tragic events of her daughter's demise. In fact, she expressly admitted needing to relive her daughter's last hours. But how many times? Maybe the repetition of it eased the pain in increments.

No one had told Esmerelda the truth about the women prisoners and how they were repeatedly raped and sodomized. The captors had lined them up, taking a turn with each of the women at will, relieving themselves. Their jovial actions said they had enjoyed it all and bragged about it, slapping each other on the back. Every time Esmerelda talked about her daughter, Sara had to constantly remind herself not to let that bit of information slip. Knowing how much her daughter really suffered would kill Esmerelda.

Palmer had witnessed it all. It had made him puke with dry heaves from having no food. He had said he could only turn away and try to contain his anger and tears as best he could. To show weakness or rebellion was to invite being killed. He felt utterly helpless but knew he had to stay alive to help the others any chance he found. He admitted having a lot of guilt about not trying to help the women, guilt that had stayed with him all the years since. He thought he should have died trying to save them. The thought that his death would have proved nothing was no consolation.

Palmer had always stayed close to their group, away from the others as they mingled, possibly feeling closer to Huxley, having been through the prisoner experience with Rockford. “Maybe, Esmerelda. One GI's remains were found back there.” He thrust a thumb indicating back on the trail where that one GI's dog tags and wedding ring were found several years earlier. “Don't know how many went before I was forced out.”

“How many were left after you?” Wise old Esmerelda could put the facts together as fast as anyone else if she were given enough information.

“No way to know. I was hiding in the bush, barely conscious. The group was strung out with some lagging behind, like your Betty. She was in awful shape and weak.” He took a bite of food and shook his head slowly as he chewed. “We're on the right trail now though. Farther up, maybe a mile or more, was where I was forced out. After I hid, I passed out… don't know how long. When I came to, I saw the rear guards pass and Betty wasn't with them.”

Esmerelda's expression hadn't changed as she listened. Yet, determination alone wouldn't bring her satisfaction. “I just want to take my daughter home.”

Huxley scooted closer. “The first K9 we used back then found those first remains. With the help of canines, we're going to find everyone.”

Dogs had become an integral part of Sara's life. She remembered the two pit bulls she and Esmerelda took turns caring for in the Sacramento River Delta. Named for their coat colors, Choco and Latte were donated for training in forensics. Sara loved those two spirited pups and knew they had a good life. Still, she missed them terribly.

Sara had recently purchased a second home in the Wailua Homesteads on the island of Kauai in Hawaii. Her neighbor owned a German Shepherd forensics dog.

Ka'imi was retired from police work at a young five years of age when hip dysplasia became painfully complicated with arthritis. Ka'imi responded to shrill whistles, especially when it was time to eat. That was how Sara learned to whistle like she did earlier. Ka'imi had served the Police Department well, having a good nose in her cases. Many people wandered off hiking trails without realizing the density of overgrown areas in Hawaii. Twice Ka'imi located their remains, and later those of a kidnapped woman.

The neighbor, Birdie Crew, wanted a watch dog at her home and decided a young retired police dog was just the ticket. A rash of frightening house break-ins had happened over the last year or so, both in the Wailua Homesteads at the higher elevation and in the Houselots down the highway near Kinipopo and the beach area. The thieves focused on taking jewelry and small electronics and had yet to be caught. Ka'imi had a lot of good years remaining, though requiring pain medication regularly.

Birdie was known all over the Wailua Homesteads for her chatter and neighborhood gossip. She was a master gardener. That was her hobby. She was the widow of a Naval Commander and, after a life of travel, decided Kauai was about as close to heaven as she could get while still living. Sara frequently found her bent over flower beds wearing knee pads and gloves, a wide-brimmed sun hat, her face coated white with sunscreen and her clothing full of grit and grime. She was amazed how scrawny Birdie Crew could muster enough energy to manage the entire yard while keeping up with happenings in the neighborhood.

Esmerelda gently tapped her arm. “Hey, girl, you with us?”

Sara had drifted. “Oh, sorry. How do you think Choco and Latte might be doing in forensics?”

“We'll have to find out.” Esmerelda showed little or no emotion while in Vietnam. She neither laughed much nor discussed feelings. She was a rock.

“So the remains we just found—a couple pieces of a gold chain about four feet part and a piece of a dog tag—what exactly might that mean?” Sara felt sure something tore that chain apart and wondered if it could have been an animal. According to the reactions of the canines, the remains of the person who wore it were nowhere near. She could only wonder what had happened to the body.

Sara wanted to discuss, speculate, and examine every remote possibility. That was the way she managed the cold cases she and Huxley investigated, scrutinizing any possibility no matter how vague. Yet, at times like the present, the intense degree of curiosity she developed in mid-life had to be tempered. When the others failed to speculate, she turned to Palmer. “Tell us more about what you know of these MIAs, please.”

The vets, too, knew talking about the past was cathartic. That was why they never complained about Esmerelda talking about her daughter.

Palmer took a sip of water and cleared his throat. He stretched out his long legs and rubbed his arthritic knees. “They took me by mistake. With little chance to talk along the trail, some of us speculated that the Viet Cong wanted the nurses for their own hospitals. Maybe.” He shrugged. “Why else would they choose the medical facility shower area and grab the medical staff? We couldn't understand their guards when they spoke.”

“You mean they knew?” Esmerelda may not have heard that much. “They waited for the shift nurses to congregate for a shower?”