CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
C HAPTER T HIRTY -E IGHT
Terror gripped Bree’s insides like a huge fist. She put her back to Matt’s. “Where’s the cat?”
“No idea,” Matt answered.
She’d largely put aside her fear of dogs, but an intense fear of loose cougars seemed reasonable.
Back to back, they spun in a slow circle. Bree stared into the dark corners. Something big moved on the left. Bree turned to face it, but she saw nothing. The monkeys shrieked. Other animals shifted restlessly, sensing danger. She couldn’t sort the sounds. Her senses sharpened, her primal survival instinct awakened by the presence of an apex predator. She heard rustling, a low growl, and a throaty rumbling noise that made her go cold all over. The animal could be anywhere, sounded like it was everywhere. How high could a cougar jump? Could he get into the loft? Vader weighed fourteen pounds, and he could climb on top of the refrigerator. An eighty-pound cat must be able to jump high. Bree’s gaze swept the darkness overhead.
“It’ll probably run,” Matt whispered. “They’re elusive.”
“Unless it’s hungry. We don’t know when he fed it last.” She had no illusions regarding the cougar. In this scenario, humans were the prey. The big cat could land on one of them at any moment.
Bree listened hard, but there were too many animals in the barn to differentiate sounds and sources. “I can’t see anything.” She sidled toward the barn wall, toward the spot where Denver had flipped off the light switch. She could hear a big animal breathing. The cougar? Or one of the other animals? The breath sounded too deep to be a monkey or one of the capybaras.
“I’ll bet the cougar can see us fine.”
“Looking for the light.” At the wall, Bree scraped her hand up and down the rough wood until her fingers encountered the switch. She flipped it. The bare bulb overhead turned on.
Just in time for her to see the long tawny tail of the cougar as it escaped out the barn door.
Fuck.
Matt ran after it.
She tapped her earpiece. “The cougar is loose! It ran out of the barn.”
“I see it.” Todd’s voice sounded in her ear. “Aaand it’s gone. The cat ran into the woods.”
Now what?
Bree whirled, scanning the barn. “Where’s Denver? And Claire? Does anyone see them?” Her gaze fell on a man-size door in the back of the barn. It was painted the same grayish-white as the interior of the barn. She hadn’t noticed it before. She ran for it and grasped the handle. Unlocked. Leading with her weapon, she flung it open and swept her Glock from side to side.
No Denver. No Claire.
Where did that bastard take her? Claire must be ... Bree couldn’t even imagine the girl’s emotional state. Her adoptive parents were murdered. She connected with her biological family only to be kidnapped by her brother for some reason Bree couldn’t understand. Did Claire know Denver had killed the Masons? Now he’d put Claire’s life in danger—no! He’d actively threatened her life.
But she couldn’t think about Claire’s emotions—or Denver’s motivation—right now. She needed a clear head to find the girl. She needed to save her life first, then she’d worry about the teen’s trauma.
The girl could be hurt—or killed. Bree had seen plenty of dead people—all had been horrible—but more than a decade in law enforcement hardened a person.
Kids were different. You never got used to seeing a dead child. Images of Luke and Kayla flashed in Bree’s mind. She had to save Claire.
She stepped out of the barn. The half-moon cast the weedy clearing in eerie gray light. Beyond, the woods were thick and dark. She scanned the tree line. Thirty feet away, a narrow trail disappeared into the forest.
“No sight of them on the west side,” responded Todd for him and Zucco.
“The north side is clear,” Collins said. “Checking the clearing. There’s no one in front of the barn or around the trailer.”
“There’s a trail heading south, toward the lake.” Bree walked toward it.
Matt’s voice rang in her ear. “I’m right behind you.”
He jogged across the open ground and took his place at her right flank, the rifle held comfortably across his body.
Bree shined her flashlight on the ground. “No footprints.”
Matt crouched and pointed. “Broken underbrush. Looks like something went this way.”
Bree updated the team. “Flynn and I are headed down the trail. Collins, I need you.”
“On my way!” Collins responded.
Bree’s earbud crackled, and Todd’s voice sounded. “Zucco and I will try to cut off the suspect at the lake.”
“Ten-four,” Bree replied. She called in an update to dispatch and requested assistance from surrounding law enforcement officers. Given the location and distance from the interstate, it was unlikely that any state troopers were nearby. The neighboring town of Scarlet Falls was in her jurisdiction but also had its own PD. At minimum, surrounding LEOs could watch roads leading away from Grey’s Hollow in case Denver managed to obtain a vehicle.
She heard motion behind her. Greta and Collins appeared. Bree and Matt stepped aside to let the K-9 team take the lead. Nose down, Greta sniffed in a circle, then picked up the fresh trail in a minute. Her head popped up, and she lunged forward, leaning into her harness with enthusiasm. The black shepherd loved the chase. Her job was a game to her.
The narrow trail forced them to move in single file. Bree jogged behind Collins. Matt brought up the rear.
“Do not forget there is a cougar on the loose,” Bree reminded her team. She gripped her weapon in one hand and her flashlight in the other. With the beam pointed at the trail ahead of her feet, she headed into the darkness of the forest.
Where the cougar would be very comfortable. The cougar could have gone this way too.
Did Denver and Claire break the underbrush?
Or did the cougar?
Maybe it was all of the above.
An itch traveled up Bree’s spine. Was the cat after Denver and Claire? As she followed the K-9 team into the darkness, she wondered who was hunting who.