Read Online Endangered (9781101559017) by Pamela Beason - Free Book Online Page B

she’d just seen in action. “I’m a freelance writer and photographer. And I only do wildlife and outdoor stories.” She mentioned the Save the Wilderness Fund. Perez wrote it down.
    â€œAnd now she’s doing online stuff, you know, on the Internet?” Kent contributed.
    The FBI agent scribbled some more. “So you’re a blogger.” The way he said it made her think that he didn’t have a lot of respect for the medium.
    Oh, jeez. Just what she needed: to be categorized with all those unpaid bloggers out there sharing recipes or dog training tips. “I am paid to write online articles ,” she stressed.
    â€œI see.” Perez lifted his gaze toward her. “What do you know about Zachary?”
    â€œBlond, two and a half years old. Disappeared last night from this campsite. Cute little guy, with scratches on his face.”
    The FBI agent was attentive now. “Where did you get this description?”
    â€œI saw him. Around five forty, five forty-five yesterday evening.” She described the encounter.
    â€œAnd you didn’t take him back to his parents?”
    She winced. “He took off on his own, down the path that led back to the campground. His father waved at me.”
    â€œSo you know Mr. Fischer?”
    The agent’s direct gaze made her squirm. “No. I mean, I didn’t then. I met him this morning.”
    â€œYou’re certain that Mr. Fischer was the man who waved at you?”
    In her mind’s eye, she saw again the man’s silhouette. The sharp profile, the bulge at the back of the neck. Fred Fischer? “It was very dark,” she finally murmured.
    Perez stepped closer. “Are you certain that Zack reached this man?”
    She relived the brambles snagging her, the flash of Zack’s sweatshirt as he disappeared into the shadows on the path near the river. How could she have let a two-year-old run off like that?
    â€œDid you see Zachary with the man?” Perez pressed.
    â€œNo!” The word came out too loud. She swallowed, lowered her voice. “The last I saw of Zack, he was running away from me, down the path, toward the man who waved.” The fingers of her left hand clenched into a fist as she remembered the boy’s tiny fingers slipping from her grasp. I am guilty of letting him go .
    â€œWhere are you staying?” Perez asked, his pen poised over his notepad. “I may want to talk to you again.”
    â€œTonight, the Wagon Wheel Motel in Las Rojas. Tomorrow, I’m not sure. If I can help in the search for Zack, I will. Although he may not be in the park.”
    The FBI agent studied her for a moment. How did he part his hair with such knife-edge precision? “What makes you say that?”
    She ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “A, we haven’t found any sign of him; B, a two-year-old can’t walk far; C, the man at the end of the path.”
    A helicopter thundered overhead, flying slowly and low to the ground. Sam held her hands over her ears.
    When it had passed, Kent said, “Civil Air Patrol.” Search volunteers.
    Perez nodded, turned, and strolled through the campsite, hands clasped behind his back, slowly scrutinizing the scenery. Kent trailed the FBI agent to the rock ledge.
    â€œThis was where his mother last saw him.” Kent pointed.
    Perez nodded, paced around the smooth rock outcropping, studying it from all angles. Then he stopped and squatted next to a thicket of twigs, staring at something on the ground. He raised his head. “Could it have been a cougar?”
    Sam approached, peered over his shoulder at a large four-toed print. “That’s a dog print. See the toenails? Cougars retract their claws.”
    â€œCanine,” Kent concurred.
    Exasperation was written on Perez’s features. “I know that’s a dog print. A big shepherd, maybe a Lab. But this one?” His index finger indicated an equally large, but