Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Glenn crouched in the snow, reset his snare so the wire was a few inches off the ground, the circle perfectly round. He’d caught himself a nice fat cottontail and as soon as this next storm started up, he’d cook him and Summer some of the best stew she’d ever tasted.
He’d gutted the rabbit and cleaned it as best he could without running water. A pack of wolves were denned up about a mile northwest, and he had no doubt they’d devour the innards before long and, if they didn’t, this incoming storm would bury the evidence until the thaw.
Trapper eyed the steaming heap with longing, and Glenn tossed him the heart and liver, wiping his bloody hands in the snow.
Trapper had a cast-iron stomach, but Glenn didn’t want the dog to fall ill.
The only veterinary care out here was the sharp end of a bullet, and Glenn didn’t want to have to do that.
Glenn rose to his feet. Summer needed fresh meat. She’d come down with a bit of a fever last night. He’d given her acetaminophen and left her with plenty of boiled water and orders to stay hydrated.
She was young, but her frailty scared him.
When he’d been her age, he’d been running wild in the mountains and helping his dad with his job, driving logging trucks around the country.
Then his father had been arrested for drunk driving and lost the job, and life had never been the same.
Social services had forced Glenn back into school, and a teacher had suggested he join the Scouts to channel his love of the outdoors.
It had been fine for a while…
Glenn pushed the thoughts aside.
If he didn’t think about it, it wasn’t real. No one had ever believed him anyway. Maybe he’d imagined it—that’s what they’d said.
Sure.
Well, that wouldn’t happen to Summer. He’d make sure she was safe. No one would touch her. No one would hurt her.
Ever.
It was gonna be tough for a little while, until she adjusted. He’d protect her even if she didn’t like it. It was for her own good. He understood the evil that existed in the world. She was blissfully ignorant. He was grateful for that.
The hum of a helicopter brought his focus sharply back to the here and now. The cold on his bare skin. The metallic scent of blood. The rustle of branches as a squirrel jumped from one tree to another.
The rise and fall of the wind tugged at the thrum of the rotors, bounced the sound off all the distant peaks, which amplified and made it hard to pinpoint. It seemed to originate to his right as he faced the mine. At least a mile away, maybe two.
That could change fast.
What if it came his way? He glanced around. The mess he’d made from field dressing the rabbit likely wasn’t visible from any great height, not with the tree canopy. He’d tried to follow the tracks and trails created by wildlife wherever possible.
He sheathed his knife and then tucked his trusty slingshot into his back pocket. He threw some snow over the waste then stripped the lower branch off a pine tree and used it to sweep the area of footprints.
Should he take the snare with him, just in case?
He decided to leave it in place. He had others. No sense panicking. Chances of the helicopter being related to him were minimal, and he needed to keep Summer and himself fed.
He picked up the rabbit carcass. “Trapper. Heel.”
The dog immediately came behind him, attentive and loyal.
He was a good dog.
Glenn darted quickly over the frozen river, which was formed by the confluence of two different water sources from two different watersheds, and deeper than most rivers this high in the Rockies.
He winced at the way the uneven ice sheet cracked beneath his feet.
Before this latest cold blast, spring had been mild, and the river had begun to break up.
He’d go the long way around next time. Once safely across, he threaded through the boulders on the hillside and reached the door of the mine, approaching from the right.
He used the branch to swish the tracks in his wake all the way to the entrance.
He opened the door to see Summer lying prone beneath the blanket, her nose red, skin blotchy. Trapper ran inside to greet her.
“I got you some meat, Summer girl.”
She sat up, hugging the blanket. Her gaze shied away from the deep red carcass of the rabbit. “I’m not hungry, Papa. I don’t feel so good.”
He narrowed his gaze at the water bottle at her side. “Did you drink like I told you to?” He hung their dinner on a hook hammered into the wall and strode over to her. Pressed the back of his bare hand to her forehead. She was burning up.
He crouched beside her. Put the bottle into her hands. “You have to drink, Summer.”
She took a sip.
“More.”
She took another minuscule sip.
“Take a real drink, for God’s sake. You’re not a bird.” His voice boomed off the stone, angry and scared. Summer flinched. Trapper cowered against the wall.
Fuck.
She took another gulp and started to cough. He rubbed his hand awkwardly over her back. “It’s okay now. I’ll get you some more tablets. They’ll make you better.”
He went over to his supplies, his hands shaking.
He opened the container and realized there were only ten more pills left.
He never got sick, and he kept them mainly for clients who weren’t used to hiking any distance and dropped hints about leaving him bad Google reviews if he didn’t help them more.
Pussies.
He hadn’t realized he needed another bottle of pain meds.
Shit.
He placed the tablets carefully back in the bottle and snapped the lid closed.
He handed Summer one, and she took it with fingers so much smaller than his. A lump formed in his throat. “Swallow it with some water and then try to get some sleep, baby. I’ll make you dinner as soon as it’s safe enough to start a fire.”
“Are the bad guys still outside?” Her voice was a whisper, full of fear.
Glenn nodded sadly. “They’re out there. But”—he tapped his trusty pistol—“I’m not letting them near you. You don’t need to worry about that.”
His little girl smiled sweetly at him. He grimaced as he turned away. He hated lying but it was necessary. He needed Summer’s complete obedience. Now wasn’t the time to go soft.
They approached the farmstead from the south and circled through the trees to get a look at the other side of the building. The roof had collapsed, and the empty frames of the windows made the old home look sad and haunted. Snow formed drifts that were almost to the roof at the rear of the house.
Sebastian and Nora moved deeper into the forest that surrounded the small clearing. Squatted behind a thick swathe of red dogwood trees.
“No human footprints.” Sebastian murmured. Plenty of small animal tracks in and out of the forest.
“No alert from Chance.” Nora turned to meet his gaze. “I doubt Summer is nearby.”
He was so close to her he could see the true violet hue of her irises. The color was so unusual he found himself staring before dragging his gaze away. Christ, he couldn’t believe he’d asked her out for a coffee as soon as they’d been alone. He was such an asshole.
No wonder he didn’t date.
He pulled back a little so as not to crowd her, but she leaned in closer to murmur, “I think we should approach this from the west and work our way around and in through the front door, in case there’s an intact room or some sort of useable shelter inside. Another thing...”
“What?”
“I should go in. Alone.”
He opened his mouth to argue.
“If you truly believe I’m a very special person then you need to recognize it here, in the field, and not just on a coffee date.”
Dammit. She had him there. On both counts.
“You have the comms. You have the sniper training. You know who to call to have people here ASAP if Eastman is in there and this goes sideways.”
He wanted to say no.
“And we can’t risk Eastman shooting us both and then getting away with Summer with the Incident Command being none the wiser for a few hours.”
She had him there. They’d just checked in with Novak and Cowboy for a SitRep. Cas was back at the cabin, and the rest of their squad had reached the abandoned sawmill and were about to start their search. No visible sign.
Agents had found a map of where Claude’s traps were located and zero evidence the man had communicated with anyone except his beloved Muriel.
Both suspects had allowed authorities to search their phones when they’d realized Sebastian had been serious about the possibility of being charged as accessories to murder.
“I’ll leave Chance with you.”
He looked at her sharply.
“He’s not trained for apprehension so no point putting him in danger.” She unlaced her ski boots and pulled her hiking boots out of her pack. Put them on and attached the snowshoes while crouching beside him.
Snow was beginning to fall. Time was running out.
He hated this plan. “Fine.”
She handed him the leash, and Chance looked at her in confusion.
“Tether him to a branch nearby. Command him to stay, and he will. How much time do you need to set up?”
He shook off his unease at allowing Nora to be the one who directly confronted potential danger while he watched from the sidelines—even if that was what he was trained to do.
He was also trained as an assaulter, but her plan made the most tactical sense in this situation. He needed to trust her. Treat her the way he would any law enforcement officer or colleague on his squad.
“Give me five minutes to get into position. Approach from the northwest corner so I can see you. And move fast. If I see any movement, I will lay down cover fire, and you will immediately take cover back in the trees. Do you understand, Ranger Deacon?”
Her bottom lip fought a smile. “Sir, yes, sir.” She finished tightening the straps. Stroked Chance and then straightened and walked away, pulling her SIG from its holster as she went.
He took his eyes off her shapely ass and met the dog’s doleful expression.
“You’re with me, buddy. Let’s move it.”