5. Following the Evidence
Following the Evidence
"Maybe..." Sydney started, her voice a small, fragile thing in the quiet hallway. "Maybe you wore them yesterday afternoon when you were out on the ridge with Carrick? You said you were looking at old flumes."
Garrett didn't move. He stood frozen, the two steaming mugs of coffee steady in his hands, his knuckles turning stark white against the ceramic.
"No," he quietly responded, his voice dangerously flat even to his own ears. "I didn't."
Silence filled the small room. It was thick and suffocating, growing with every breath he took. Abruptly setting the coffee mugs down on a nearby side table, the sudden click of the ceramic against wood snapped something inside him awake.
The vulnerability vanished. The fear receded. In its place, the seasoned Guardsman took complete control– and it just felt right.
Dropping into a low, athletic crouch beside the boots, he wasn’t a victim trying to understand a medical glitch. He was a scout analyzing a crime scene.
With practiced, methodical movements, he reached out and touched the caked clay. Rubbing a piece of it between his thumb and forefinger, he tested the texture and structure.
Bringing his fingers to his nose, he inhaled deeply before turning the heavy boot over to inspect the thick rubber soles. Scraping his thumbnail along the tread, he looked for embedded pine needles, grass seeds, leaves– anything that could give away a location.
He could feel Sydney's eyes trained on him. Through their Bond came the frantic beat of her heart, but beneath the fear was something else: relief, maybe. She felt better knowing he wasn't frozen anymore. He was doing something. Working the problem.
"First problem," Garrett muttered, his eyes narrowing as he stood up. "The door."
Marching straight down the short hallway to the mudroom exit, he was comforted that Sydney was right on his heels. Grabbing the handle, he saw that the heavy metal deadbolt was turned completely to the right.
“Locked,” he confirmed.
Looking up, he inspected the small brass bell he’d meticulously rigged to the frame the day before. It was perfectly intact, hanging exactly where he had left it.
Turning back to Sydney, Garrett knew his expression was grim, but let it reflect his inner turmoil, as he asked, "Did you hear it ring?"
"No," she said.
"Neither did I."
"Should I ask what we're looking at or is this a private party?"
Grey’s deep voice cut through the tension as he stepped into the mudroom.
It was seven in the morning, and like everyone else there, he instinctively gravitated toward the kitchen.
Apparently, the hearth of Carrick and Ginnie’s home was also the meeting place, but seeing his brother crouched over a pair of filthy combat boots before the sun was fully up instantly changed Grey’s demeanor.
"Probably," Garrett replied, straightening up. In concise, military-standard shorthand, he laid out the facts. No emotion. Just the data.
Grey’s relaxed posture vanished, replaced by the sharp, calculating focus of a seasoned Dragon Guardsman. "Alright. Let's reconstruct the night. Walk me through the timeline."
"We went upstairs around ten-thirty," Garrett said, his eyes scanning the ceiling as he reconstructed the memory. "I checked the mudroom lock twice. Sydney saw me. We got into bed. We talked about coffee this morning. I fell asleep instantly."
Grey looked at Sydney. "Syd?"
"I woke up around 2:00 AM," she volunteered, her fingers tightly intertwining in front of her. "Garrett was right there with me. I touched his hand. He was sound asleep. I went right back to Dreamland."
"I woke up at six," Garrett picked up, his jaw tightening. "Everything felt normal. I slipped out of bed quietly because I wanted to make the coffee to surprise her. Do something nice. Ya’ know, 'cause…" His gaze softened as he looked at Sydney. "…you've done so much for me."
"Aww, thanks," she gushed. "But there's no need. I do what I do because I love you, not for any other reason. I just love you and love doing things for you."
"And I love you," Garrett said, leaning over and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
Stepping back, he suddenly stopped. A dark, heavy shadow fell over his features. The reality of the numbers hit him like a physical blow.
"That gives us a four-hour window," Garrett whispered, the words sounding hollow. "Four hours."
A ten-minute wander into the backyard was a sleepwalking episode. Four hours of completely unaccounted-for time was a black hole. It was a terrifyingly large chunk of his life gone. He hated every damned thing that implied.
"Let's test the variable," Grey said, stepping towards the door. He reached out and turned the deadbolt, throwing the door open.
JINGLE. JINGLE. JINGLE.
The sharp, bright metallic ring echoed loudly through the small mudroom.
Everyone stared at the small brass bell, shocked that something so small could be so loud.
Grey closed the door, locked it, and tried it again, opening it with absolute care.
The bell still chimed, a distinct, unmissable warning.
There was absolutely no way Garrett could have opened that door without triggering the alarm. Unless some buried part of his mind remembered the bell and avoided it. He didn't know whether that possibility made him feel better or worse.
"Check every exit," a gravelly voice commanded from the kitchen archway.
Carrick stepped into the room, his ancient Elder's brain already working the angles.
He didn't jump to conclusions or yell about nefarious enemies.
He just treated the missing time like a perimeter breach.
"Windows, front door, basement access. Check the seals. "
"I'll check the main floor," Grey nodded, moving instantly.
"What about the Wards?" Sydney asked, her White Dragon Magic thrumming anxiously beneath her skin. "If something... if something took him, or if he left, wouldn't the perimeter wards have flared?"
Carrick shook his head, offering her a calm, steady look.
"No. The Wards were set with my Dragon Enchantment and Ginnie's Necromancer.
We included everyone's Mystical signature.
They are designed to keep external threats out, not to lock residents in.
Garrett could walk right across the boundary line, and the Magic wouldn't make a sound. "
It was a perfectly logical, mundane explanation. The mystery remained grounded, but the knot in Sydney's stomach only grew tighter.
"The mud," a soft voice murmured.
Ginnie had stepped into the room, her eyes fixed entirely on the caked gray clay Garrett had scraped onto the tile. Kneeling down, she touched the edge of the dried earth with a practiced hand. Garrett knew she had intimate knowledge of every inch of her home's topography.
"This didn't come from anywhere near the main house or the guest cottages," Ginnie said, her tone matter-of-fact but serious. "The soil up here is dry, sandy loam. This is heavy, dense gray clay."
Looking up at Garrett, her eyes were dark with concern. "The only place on the property with clay like this is down by the eastern creek bed. Near the old well on the far boundary."
Garrett went entirely rigid.
The old well was on the literal edge of the Heatherton’s vast property. It was a dense, heavily wooded area completely isolated from the rest of the land.
It was a freakin’ quarter of a mile away.
Garrett hadn't just taken a peaceful stroll into the backyard the previous night. Somehow, he'd traveled a quarter mile into the dark woods and returned without waking Sydney, alerting Han, or leaving any obvious sign of how he'd gotten out.
"We follow the trail," Garrett said, his voice clipped and decisive. He was already reaching for his boots, the soldier in him taking complete control of his movements.
"No," Sydney countered immediately, stepping directly into his path, her eyes flashing with a mix of fierce protectiveness and rising panic. "Garrett, you are not marching out into the woods after whatever just happened."
"Yes, I absolutely am," Garrett replied, not backing down. He looked past her to Grey and Carrick. "The clay is fresh. The tracks will be clear. I am not sitting in this kitchen waiting for night to fall again without knowing where my feet took me."
From the edge of the room, Carrick nodded slowly, his expression grim but practical. "He's right, Sydney. If there’s a trail, we read it now before the sun bakes it out. But we go together."
“I’ll stay here and see what I can read from the Wards,” Ginnie explained.
“But Carrick said…” Sydney started.
“And he was right,” the Necromancer nodded with a wink towards her Mate. “It won’t stop anyone from leaving, but sometimes they can tell us if anyone left and came back.” She shrugged. “It’s hit or miss since we used all our Magical signatures, but it’s worth a try.”
“Sure is,” Sydney agreed. “Thank you.”
And they were off…
There was no army. No heavy weapons or tactical gear.
They weren't hunting a Demon Lord or a hoard of Giants; they were investigating a sleepwalking episode.
Within ten minutes, the four of them– Garrett, Sydney, Grey, and Carrick– were cutting through the high grass of the eastern pasture, moving toward the shadowy tree line.
The heat of the morning sun began to bake the earth, but as they dipped below the canopy of the woods, the air grew instantly cooler, damp with the scent of pine and decay. It was a whole other world with shards of the sun breaking through the canopy and long shadows stretching into the darkness.
"Here," Grey called out, stopping near the edge of the creek bed.
Garrett stepped forward, his eyes locking onto the soft, gray banks of the water. Deeply embedded in the dense clay was a sharp, unmistakable print.
Garrett slowly approached. Lifting his right foot, he placed the boots from the mudroom directly beside the mark in the mud.
An exact match.