Luke took the shirt Caroline had brought over to the trackers. “Benjamin’s nine years old and he knows these woods. He’s been out there overnight.” “The ground is perfect to track. If he’s in there, our dogs will find him.” The three dogs tangled their leads as they strained to go. They practically tasted the shirt as they absorbed the scent. “Let’s go, boys.” The dogs began to prowl back and forth, working the road in an excited wandering. The lead dog bayed and peeled off into the woods. Within seconds, the other two dogs joined the track, tugging their handlers to keep up. The dogs crashed through the thick brush. “Benjamin was running,” Luke said softly. “Let’s follow them.” Luke stopped her. “No, just listen to the dogs. They’ll tell you what they find by their baying.” “If he only ran a short way and was caught, brought back . . . would the dogs circle back?” “Yes.” Luke knew the odds that a boy could outrun a man coming after him were at best fifty-fifty.
