Chapter Ten
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Ryker watched as Emma’s eyes stayed locked on the phone. As if the words might burn a hole straight through it. She wasn’t saying anything, but he could see the shift in her, the tension in her shoulders, the rigid line of her jaw.
The second message had gutted her.
And she was trying like hell not to show it.
He waited until Hayes and Jesse had stepped away to start roping off the area, their voices fading behind the crackle of the radio. Then he moved in closer, just enough for her to hear him.
“You know,” Ryker said, voice low, steady, “if you say you’re sorry right now, I’m going to have to kiss you again.”
That earned him the faintest flicker of a smile.
It was barely there, but it was something.
She let out a breath, slow and deep, and nodded. Then, without a word, she turned and made her way toward the car where Janette sat behind the wheel, still gripping the steering wheel like it might offer protection.
Ryker kept his hand near his weapon, eyes still sweeping the trees. He didn’t like how close this was getting. Didn’t like that someone out there was circling Emma like a wolf.
Emma stopped at the driver’s side and leaned in closer to Janette, who lowered the window. “You can’t stay here,” Emma said. “It’s a crime scene now. Responders are on their way.”
Janette gripped the steering wheel tighter, her mouth pulling into a frown. “You’re seriously telling me to leave? What if it’s Ethan? I deserve to know if it’s him or not.”
Emma didn’t flinch. “You’ll be updated when we confirm the ID. But for now, this is a crime scene, and you can’t be here.”
That clipped, firm tone of hers left no room for negotiation, but Janette bristled anyway. Her eyes sparked, her jaw locked.
She muttered something under her breath, then yanked the gearshift into reverse. The tires kicked up dirt as she spun the car around and sped down the drive, tail-lights flashing red through the trees.
Ryker tipped his chin toward the body under the tarp. “You think she had something to do with that?”
Emma’s gaze followed his. “She’s got motive. Still clearly has feelings for Ethan.”
He nodded. “Maybe more than feelings. If Ethan’s alive, someone’s been helping him stay that way.
Hiding him. Covering his tracks. Maybe even funding it.
We should get back to the station. Dive into her financials.
See if she’s been making regular withdrawals or big purchases.
Could be she’s been supporting him all this time. ”
Emma gave a tight nod. “Yeah. That’s a good angle.”
Ryker glanced back toward the tarp, then to the trees, still too quiet, still too open.
Getting her out of here would accomplish two things: they could dig into Janette’s financials, maybe start chipping away at the wall around Ethan. But more than that, she wouldn’t be standing out in the open like this, one well-placed bullet away from being taken out.
Of course, she was probably thinking the same thing about him.
That last text hadn’t just been a threat. It had put a target right between his eyes.
Two more deputies pulled in, their cruiser crunching over the gravel as it eased to a stop behind Hayes and Jesse’s. Callie Brandon and Lexa Mullens. Doors opened, boots hit the ground, and they moved with the quiet efficiency of cops who knew what kind of scene they were walking into.
Now that there was more backup in place, Ryker and Emma headed over to Jesse and Hayes, who stood near the edge of the taped-off perimeter.
“We’re heading back to the station,” Emma said. “We’ve got a lead we want to follow up on.”
Jesse gave them a nod, then reached into his jacket and handed Ryker a sealed evidence bag. “The phone that was near the DB’s feet,” he said. “I figured you’d want to coordinate with the lab. Already tagged and logged.”
Ryker took the bag. The phone inside was dark, the screen in sleep mode now, just a black reflection staring back at him. He couldn’t see the words anymore. But he didn’t have to. They were etched in his head like they’d been carved there:
Emma, he’s next. Soon, you’ll find Ryker’s body beneath one of these tarps.
Want to save him, Emma? All you have to do is die.
Ryker felt his grip tighten slightly around the bag, then forced his hand to ease. He wasn’t going to let those words shake him. But he wasn’t about to forget them either.
“Thanks,” he told Jesse. “I’ll get this to the lab.”
He glanced at Emma, and she gave a nod. They turned, walking together toward their cruiser, two targets maybe, but also two people unwilling to be taken down quietly.
Ryker opened the cruiser door and waited as Emma climbed in beside him. Neither of them said much, just the quiet click of seatbelts, the creak of the gearshift as he put the vehicle into drive, and the low rumble of tires on gravel as they pulled away from the cabin crime scene.
The woods pressed in around them, shadows lingering under bare-limbed trees, the road winding narrow and quiet. They passed the ribbon of yellow tape, deputies now posted at the edge of the property, and turned down the last stretch of gravel before it met the county highway.
Ryker kept one hand on the wheel, the evidence bag containing the phone resting on the console. The silence was familiar, but heavy. Emma sat beside him, scanning the tree line, her posture tense, alert.
Then she stiffened.
“Stop,” she blurted.
He hit the brakes without hesitation, bringing the cruiser to a fast, gritty halt. Emma leaned forward, her eyes locked on something just beyond the trees. Ryker followed her gaze and froze.
A man stood in the woods, half-shrouded by the sparse underbrush and winter-gray trunks. Still. Watching.
He wore a dark coat, a knit cap or hood pulled low over his head. From this distance, it was hard to make out details, but the build was too familiar. Broad shoulders. That particular stance. Like someone who thought he owned whatever ground he was standing on.
Then the clouds above shifted, just slightly, letting through a sliver of sun. Light filtered through the trees and struck the man’s face.
Just enough.
Emma whispered it before Ryker could. “Ethan.”
Ryker narrowed his eyes. “Maybe. Or it’s a mask again.” Just like the one on the dummy in the uniform.
The man turned and vanished into the trees, quick and deliberate, slipping behind the underbrush like he’d rehearsed the escape.
But she was already leaning forward, eyes locked on the tree line. “We have to go after him.”
Ryker hesitated, grip tightening on the wheel. His instincts were already firing off warnings, this could be a trap, a lure designed to pull them off the road, separate them, expose them. But it could also be him. Ethan. Or whoever the hell had been taunting them with threats and bodies and masks.
Their chance.
He cursed under his breath and pulled the cruiser off the side of the road, the tires bumping over frozen earth and wet gravel.
Please don’t let this be a bad mistake.
The second he shifted into park, Emma was out the door, and Ryker followed, his weapon drawn, boots hitting the ground with a crunch as they cut into the trees.
The woods swallowed the man’s trail almost instantly, but Ryker pushed forward, heart pounding, eyes scanning every shadow.
This time, they were close. And he wasn’t letting the bastard slip away without a fight.
Ryker moved through the trees with Emma beside him, each step measured, every sound amplified in the silence. A bird called out somewhere overhead. Branches crackled underfoot. But nothing human. Nothing familiar.
He kept scanning the trees ahead, eyes cutting through shafts of weak morning light. “Anything?” he asked in a low voice.
Emma shook her head.
Then she paused, crouched near a patch of damp earth. “Footprints,” she said.
Ryker stepped in beside her. Sure enough, mud pressed down in the shape of a boot tread, leading deeper into the woods.
He took out his phone and snapped a photo, making sure to catch the angle and depth. “We’ll get CSIs out here to cast it,” he muttered, filing the mental note.
They followed the prints in silence until the trees began to thin again, the brush breaking up just enough to reveal a narrow gravel road on the other side.
Then, an engine.
Low. Gritty. Fading fast.
Ryker and Emma broke into a sprint, weaving through the last few trees just in time to see the tail end of a black truck tearing off down the road. No plate. No decals.
Just speed and distance.
Ryker cursed under his breath, heart hammering.
It was identical to the truck Ethan had owned back when they were both still enlisted. Same frame. Same damn color.
He yanked out his radio. “This is Deputy Caldwell. Black pickup, no tags, last seen headed west off the cabin road by the creek. Put out an APB. Possibly connected to the Ross case. Use caution.”
He heard Emma’s breath hitch as she slowed beside him, eyes fixed on the road where the truck had vanished.
They stood there a moment longer, nothing but wind and the distant hum of tires left behind.
Then Ryker turned. “Let’s head back.”
They moved through the woods again, retracing their steps toward the cruiser, frustration burning low and sharp in Ryker’s gut.
So close.
They made their way back through the trees, silence settling in around them like fog. The prints they’d followed were already softening in the mud, blurred by frost and wind.
Emma walked beside him, arms tight across her chest, her brow furrowed in thought. “If that really was Ethan,” she said, “then why not attack us? He had the drop on us. Could’ve taken a shot.”
Ryker didn’t answer right away. His mind was working through it, piece by piece. “Could be a game,” he said finally. “A sick one. Taunt us. Show us how close he can get without pulling the trigger.”
She didn’t argue. Which said enough.
They stepped out of the trees, the cruiser just ahead. Ryker’s eyes swept the area out of habit, but something made him stop cold.
Footprints.
Fresh ones.
They circled the cruiser, overlapping in places, heavy and erratic like someone had moved quickly around it.
“Get down,” Ryker snapped.
He grabbed Emma’s arm and yanked her to the ground, pulling them both behind the cover of a low rise near the shoulder of the road.
Heart pounding, he reached into his jacket and thumbed the remote key fob. And he pressed the start button.
The cruiser exploded in a burst of flame and metal, the blast knocking a wave of heat over them even from fifty feet out. The roar echoed through the trees, sending birds scattering and smoke spiraling into the morning sky.
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