Every Second

65

Coyote Mountains, New York

Kate looked into the thick forests as Strobic’s Silverado ate up the paved narrow roads that snaked through this part of the mountain range.

“We just passed Split Creek. Used to go fishing there with my dad,” he said as dispatches from police, rangers and search teams crackled from his scanners. Some transmissions were so static-filled they couldn’t be understood, while others blasted with clarity. The steady flow of cross talk emphasized the urgency and scope of the search.

“Are we close?” Kate asked.

“We’re in the right sector,” Strobic said.

They passed through a hilltop turn, providing Kate with a sweeping view that hammered home the vastness of the wilderness.

How will they find anyone in this?

Strobic’s strategy was to stay on the marginal roads at the fringe of the search perimeters before those perimeters changed.

“This is how we’re going to get inside,” he said.

The backcountry was webbed with hunting trails and old logging roads. Strobic said none of them were mapped but he could pinpoint them. They would lead him into the heart of the search by using the tip his old friend had given him at the media center.

They’d gone about five miles without Kate seeing anything promising.

“Is it much farther, you think, Stan?”

“Hard to tell. Want to go back?”

“No. I want to keep going.”

The road twisted and Strobic slowed when they spotted a couple of local volunteer firefighters on ATVs. After passing them, they continued on for about half a mile when Strobic slowed for three searchers on horseback moving along on the side of the road.

“Looks like they’re still marshaling some people at this edge of things.”

Less than half a mile later they came to flashing emergency lights and a Greene County sheriff’s deputy’s car blocking the road. The deputy swiveled his hand for Strobic to turn around.

“Great,” Kate said. “This isn’t good.”

“Hang on.” Strobic got out and approached the officer’s car. “Press,” he called out.

The deputy got out of his vehicle, adjusted his hat and approached.

“You’ve got to turn around,” he said. “No one goes beyond this point.”

Strobic held up his ID.

“We’re with Newslead out of Manhattan.”

“I’m sorry, but-” The deputy paused to study the ID, then raised his head. “Stan?”

Strobic smiled. “Harry?”

“Well, I’ll be damned!” The deputy and Strobic laughed and clapped each other on the back. “How’s Ellen and the kids?”

“Good, all good. And you? Peggy and the boys?”

“Growing too fast.”

Strobic motioned to Kate, inviting her to meet his friend. “This is Harry Baker, my best friend when I spent summers here as a kid. Harry, this is Kate Page, one of our best reporters.”

“Hi there, Kate.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“So, Harry,” Strobic said. “This is where they’re focusing the search?”

“Partly. They’ve got sectors all over.” He pointed to the hills. “I’m just sitting on my point for this one.”

“So what do you think? Can we go in?”

“No can do, Stan. Way too dangerous. I got my orders.”

“Back at the center they said we could travel on the fringe roads.”

“Sure, but not this way. Sorry-I can’t swing this one for you. Too much at stake here.”

Strobic nodded while biting his bottom lip in disappointment. He patted his friend’s shoulder and shook his hand.

“Okay, rules are rules,” Strobic said. “Look, I might get tickets to a game. You should come in and we can catch up.”

“We’ll do that,” the deputy replied, smiling.

Back in the truck, Strobic wheeled around as the radios crackled. He ran a hand over his face, irritated at hitting yet another dead end. “I don’t know, Kate. Maybe we should go back.”

“No. We’ve come this far, we can’t give up now. Let’s find another road.”

“You’re a scrappy one.” Strobic smiled. “All right, we’ll keep going.”