He almost ran straight into Elsie, who had stopped.

“She’s here.”

He looked around. “Alive?”

Elsie didn’t answer.

“Elsie?”

“I don’t know. Willow... I don’t know.”

He had no idea what that meant, how alerts worked. Was there a difference in the alert for a living person versus a dead one? Willow was patiently sitting, looking back at Elsie with confidence in her face, near an especially thick stand of devil’s club.

“I’ll go.” He moved forward, but Elsie put out a hand to stop him.

“No. This is my search, my dog.”

“But you’re taking an unnecessary risk. You don’t know she’s the person under there.”

“She’s who I told Willow to look for. I trust my dog, Wyatt. Trust me.”

He just wanted to keep her safe. But he did trust her. He nodded.

She moved forward, carefully, and Wyatt bent low to get the best view into the thickness of leaves.

He could see someone’s feet and legs. The person was lying on the ground. Dead or alive, he still couldn’t tell.

“Noelle?” Elsie asked.

A low moan answered. Wyatt held his breath and waited.

It was almost impossible to see into the stand. Whether the victim had chosen this as a hiding place or the attacker had tried to stash her here, Elsie could understand why.

It didn’t appear any bad actors were around the area. Willow seemed alert, having found her target, but not uncomfortable or anxious. Elsie meant what she’d said to Wyatt. She had to trust her dog. And she did.

She crawled forward on her knees, doing her best not to rub against the leaves. She’d found with devil’s club, moving slowly often prevented one from being injured by the delicate poisonous hairs on the leaves or by the giant spikes on the main stem from which the plant got its name.

“Are you okay? I’m search and rescue. We are here to help.” She reached for Noelle, who was still lying on the ground. She’d moaned once but now made no noises.

The woman stirred. From where she was now, Elsie could see her entire body. Her eyes were closed, and she had a small amount of dried blood on her face and shirt.

Assessing her as best she could for broken bones or other injuries, and feeling fairly confident there was nothing majorly wrong, Elsie grabbed the woman’s lower leg and gently shook it in case she was asleep.

Another moan and the woman’s eyes opened. Fear flashed in them.

“No, you’re okay, you’re okay,” she immediately started to reassure her, but the fear didn’t leave Noelle’s eyes.

“Who are you?”

“I’m search and rescue. My dog found you and we are going to get you off this island.”

The woman started to sob, though it was more sound than tears. Elsie guessed she was extremely dehydrated. She offered the woman a bottle of water and trail mix, which she consumed slowly.

There would be time for questions when they were off the island. As many things as Elsie wanted to ask, she knew they should wait.

She crawled backward, stood and turned to Wyatt. “We need to get her out of here.”

He glanced at his watch. “Still three hours until the plane is supposed to come back. I’ll call for a helicopter. They’ll be able to get her out faster.” He stepped away and she heard him talking quietly.

Pride in her dog swelled in her heart. Not only had they found her, but in only three hours of searching today. Alive.

Noelle, making crying sounds again, looked up at Elsie. “Rebecca,” she croaked. “My friend, we were hiking together. We got separated. I don’t know how exactly...” She trailed off.

“Why were you here?” Wyatt asked from behind.

Noelle started and Elsie sent Wyatt a small glare.

“He’s with me,” she explained, shaking her head slightly so he’d know not to chime in anymore.

Elsie helped Noelle out of the bushes, and the other woman stood, dusted herself off, seeming to regain enough composure to talk.

“I was here on a hike. With Rebecca.” She frowned at them both. “That was how it started, anyway. I should have known...” She trailed off, eyes starting to widen again. “Rebecca and I lost track of each other. I think after someone tried to kill me? I don’t know. I didn’t see the person who shot at me.” She looked at them, terrified. “Is Rebecca okay?”

This time Wyatt didn’t answer, but looked to Elsie, who considered her next option.

“She’s dead,” Elsie said gently. “I’m sorry.”

“He killed her.” Noelle was crying again.

“Who?” Elsie held her breath. Did Noelle know the killer?

Her face paled. “I don’t know.”

Did she really not know or was she just not saying? It was hard to distinguish between a trauma response, genuine ignorance of a situation, and someone who was simply too scared to talk.

She looked to Wyatt, knowing he understood people well. He seemed to understand what she was asking, but he just shook his head slowly. He couldn’t get a read on her, either.

“When should the helicopter be here?” she turned to Wyatt and asked.

“Within the hour. They’ll land at the beach where we were today.” He kept his voice low. Because he was trying not to alarm Noelle? Or because he was trying not to be overheard?

“We need to go. Are you okay to walk?”

Noelle nodded and the three of them started to make their way back up the mountain toward the ridge.

They managed to walk at a fairly fast clip, and Elsie’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. She wasn’t law enforcement. She’d done all that she needed to do.

The police would work on figuring out who was responsible for hunting Noelle and killing Rebecca Reyes. Elsie didn’t need to get involved.