PROLOGUE
The best thing to do in the rain is to learn to dance wet.
Raven Ryder chuckled as he remembered how his mom would tell him this in her sing-song voice. Years had passed and he still didn’t enjoy getting wet.
He shifted atop his mare and the saddle creaked under his weight. Yellow Bee pawed at the mud following the distant rumble of thunder. “Yeah, I don’t like it either, girl.” He patted her neck which seemed to calm her some, but it wouldn’t last. The search and rescue horses were trained to handle the worst conditions, but the brewing storm unsettled even the best of them. Hell, the weather disconcerted Raven too. Stuck between a rock wall and a deep ravine into the rushing waters of Wildflower River, one wrong move could be fatal.
Dragging off his Stetson, he shook water off the brim then used his gloved fingers to wipe away the dampness from his forehead, little good it did though. At least the wool-lined jacket kept his torso dry but his jeans were heavy and soaked.
Reaching for his thermos, he unscrewed the lid and drained the last remaining dregs of coffee.
Great. Now he’d be wet and coffee-deprived.
Placing the empty thermos back into the saddlebag, he scanned ahead at the uneven terrain on the most dangerous trail on Snowbleed Mountain. Devil’s Fork . They had about a ten-foot range of visibility with the fog settling in like a blanket. Dean’s horse, Juniper, gave a low whinny because she too sensed the danger. Raven and Dean were sitting ducks against both nature and the suspect who’d fled onto the mountain that morning. Usually, the Ryders could navigate the mountain without pause and find their target within hours, but any tracks or clues had been washed away by the flowing water and debris that had created a stream on the bumpy path.
The only lead came from a witness who had been hiking early that morning and spotted a suspicious man wearing all black heading up on the mountain. Later, Raven found a partial track near Devil’s Fork, the single one that had survived the torrential downpour.
Every search and rescue mission were considered important, but this particular mission hit close to home. They wanted to catch the bastard who attacked Farrah outside of her apartment late last night. They also believed he was the man who attacked Shelby outside of Crew and Brew. Luckily, both women had successfully fought the assailant off, but they needed to bring the perpetrator in to give Second Chance a little peace of mind.
Bend had several suspects who checked out and had solid alibis so that put him back to square one in the investigation.
Today was the closest they’d been to catching the suspect so abandoning the search didn’t seem plausible.
And of all days Mother Nature could unleash, it had to be today.
“I wonder if Bend and Rip are having better luck?” Dean said. He and Juniper were finding a sliver of reprieve from the rain under the canopy of a massive tree.
“I think my guess was right. The suspect is from the area and knows this mountain.” Raven rolled his collar up higher on his neck to ward off the chill in the air.
“I can’t wait to get my hands on the sum’bitch.” Dean growled.
“He’s close. I can feel it.” Raven swiped his gaze through the fog but couldn’t see a damn thing.
“He planned this out carefully. I’d bet my prized horse he wanted to bring us up here on a wild goose chase.”
“Like he’s laughing at us because we’re freaking cold and tired? Yeah, I kind of feel that way too.” Raven scratched his whiskered jaw. “None of it makes sense.”
Dean nodded. “You mean how the attacker didn’t hurt Shelby or Farrah but just wanted to terrorize them? Like someone couldn’t handle rejection.”
“But neither woman suspects anyone, or had any unusual run-ins.” Adjusting himself in the saddle, Raven blew out a frustrated breath. “In both circumstances he followed the same plan of action. Grabbed her from behind, threatened her, but didn’t enforce keeping her controlled. Now why in the hell would he do that?”
“He’s making a statement.”
“I wish all the puzzle pieces would fit together.” Slipping out of the saddle, Raven hooked the reins to a limb and walked over to look down at the fast-moving river at the bottom of the ravine. Water flowed from higher up the trail and streamed over his boots as they sunk into the mud. He was afraid they might not go much further.
“What do you think?” Dean had joined him next to the cliff.
“Honestly, I think the path is too dangerous to go any further, and I think that’s okay. We’re missing something. If I’m right and he knows this mountain, the trails, he wouldn’t have come this direction.”
“Unless another trail was impassable.” Dean rubbed his jaw and nodded, but his expression remained troubled.
“Or, he wanted to throw us off.”
Silence loomed between them until Dean cleared his throat. “While we’re alone, I wanted to speak to you about Pa. I think he’s seeing someone.”
Raven slipped his gaze to Dean. “What makes you think that?”
“Since he came back from vacation, he’s been getting all cleaned up and disappearing at night. And he’s been smiling a lot more lately. I think he’s even wearing cologne.”
“That’s a helluva lot better than how he was before he left for Ireland. Any clue who he might be seeing?”
“No, not really. There are a few widows who’ve shown interest in him but I didn’t see him return the attention.”
“Well, I hope…” Then something struck Raven. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. “Carol’s hunting cabin.”
“Huh?” Dean grunted.
Carol had worked with the local sheriff’s office for Jackson Mellough until Bend took over as sheriff and things didn’t work out. Soon after, he found out that she was eyeball deep in criminal activity. “She had that old cabin up here. I don’t think she ever sold it or left it to anyone after she passed away. It’s been empty a long time. That’s information just about everyone in town would know.”
Understanding lit Dean’s expression then he blew out a deep breath. “Shit, bro. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“The suspect could come up Devil’s Fork, take a detour through the woods and land at the cabin about three miles west. It’s the long route but it’d definitely throw trackers off. It could be a long shot, but what harm would it be to follow a hunch?”
The crashing of the rain pounded around them as Raven and Dean backtracked down Devil’s Fork until they reached a clearing. They led the horses through the soggy grass dotted with stones and boulders and trunks ornamented with moss. Up ahead the tree line came into view. Here the fog wasn’t as thick, but low-hanging clouds covered treetops in mist.
Entering the woods, the horses carefully stepped over downed, rotten tree branches, pinecones and pine needles, twigs, and other natural debris on the forest floor.
Raven stopped and motioned for Dean, who was riding a few paces behind. “You see it?” He pointed at the arrow semi-buried in foliage as if someone had been hunting for wild game and had forgotten to grab the projectile.
Dean nodded. “Yeah.”
Raven continued through the woods, grateful that the leaves acted as an umbrella. They slid out of their saddles while still in the cover of the trees and hooked their horses to a craggy limb. They treaded through the mushy undergrowth and took a spot where they could see the vicinity.
“It appears quiet,” Dean said.
Two old cars with weeds grown up around the flat tires and doors, an old broken rocking chair on the porch, and a welcome wreath on the door were the only evidence that people once lived there.
“Let’s move in quietly,” Raven said. He withdrew his gun from the holster and took the first step into the clearing. Grass had grown as tall as his knees and wildflowers dotted the area. A stack of cut wood near a mud-chinked log outbuilding made Raven curious. Had someone recently chopped wood? An old, rusted tractor looked like it had been placed there as a lawn ornament along with a row of broken gnomes. “Stay here and don’t touch anything,” he told Dean then stepped onto the rotten porch, squinting when one of the boards splintered.
With his gun aimed at the ground, Raven pressed his back against the rough exterior wall of logs and peered into the cabin through the cracked window. Although the interior was dark, he didn’t sense any movement of life inside.
He tried the knob on the warped door. With a shoulder heave, the wood parted. He squeezed through the gap.
Inside, he found everything covered in cobwebs and dust. From a small plank of wood used as a countertop, a round rickety table, a wood-burning stove, and a fireplace filled with ash and blackened wood chunks, it didn’t appear like any of the items had been used recently. He stuck his hand over the coals and didn’t feel any heat.
He kicked a discarded can and gave a little jump when a rat scurried out of its hiding place under a chair and scampered through a hole in the wall. Raven chuckled at his hypersensitivity. “Get it together, man.”
The bedroom was ransacked, probably from teenagers who were curious after Carol’s crime hit the papers. Everyone in town suddenly became an amateur sleuth after she kidnapped the kid.
The drawers on the dresser were open and clothes were flung haphazardly on the floor. The wall mirror was broken and shards of glass were undisturbed.
Although everything seemed untouched for a while, something didn’t sit well with him.
What am I missing?
At the window, he pulled back the ripped, yellowed curtain and saw Dean peering into the window of one of the abandoned cars. Movement near Raven’s face made him look up. A wolf spider scurried up the dingy wall and disappeared into a crevice. Taking his flashlight out of his pocket, he focused on a shelf that held a dented oil lantern, a knife, and a box of nails. The cobwebs were disturbed and the dust had been swiped through. The knife looked like it had been placed there recently.
He took a step back and looked over the space then through the window again. Dean had rounded the car to the passenger side, his hand was poised on the door…
Raven saw something beyond the line of trees. A flash of red.
Was there someone there?
He scanned the abandoned car and saw that the rear-view mirror sat cockeyed.
Shit!
He pounded on the window so hard that he broke the glass. “Dean! Get away from the car!” he yelled.
Dean paused, shielding his eyes from the rain. “What?”
“Get the fuck away from the car! It’s a trap.”
The second Dean realized what Raven was saying his eyes widened. He turned to run as a light flashed somewhere near the woods and then another inside the car. The explosion blew the doors off the car. The boom rattled the windows and Raven’s teeth, knocking him backward.
His ears were ringing and his temples ached, but he quickly pulled himself together.
Stumbling for the door, he raced toward the plume of grey and black smoke curling up from the destroyed heap of metal. Rain stung his face. His breath created a cloud because he was panting so hard. He hurried through the smoking debris scattered in the grass and his heart whacked against his ribs when he found Dean lying face down. Not moving. Blood gushing from a wound on his leg and arm.
Raven gathered his logic.
His brother’s life depended on how fast he got to help.