Chapter 27
He punched in the code. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. Hardly any, for that matter.
He’d gone to the scene and met Micah. Graham had also been there.
They still hadn’t identified the body. His fingerprints hadn’t triggered anything in the system.
But everything had to be connected. Mackenzie. Pete. This mystery man.
He didn’t know how they were connected, but they were.
Wyatt parked in the driveway and was about to step out when the side door to the house opened.
Kori emerged, looking ready for the day in her jacket and hiking boots.
She pulled open the passenger door and climbed in, bringing cold air with her.
Thunder leaned forward from the back seat, and she rubbed his head. “Good to see you too.”
“You’re becoming friends, aren’t you?” The two of them had come a long way since Kori had first seen the dog and looked terrified.
“I think we might be.” Her gaze went to the coffee in the cupholder. “Is that—?”
“Yours,” Wyatt said.
She wrapped both hands around it and closed her eyes in gratitude. “Thank you.”
“I also brought you a scone—I asked, and they said it was safe for you to eat. No animal products were used.”
“That was sweet of you.”
Something about her compliment made a warm feeling spread through his chest.
He ignored it and pulled back down the gravel drive toward the gate.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked, not wanting to jump right into his grim update.
“Pretty well. Your family is great. I really enjoyed talking to them yesterday.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “They are pretty great.”
He was thankful for them. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but they were there for each other.
“I appreciate their hospitality. It’s a real gift.”
“We get it from our mom. She’s the queen of hospitality.”
“She sounds like a great woman.”
“She is,” Wyatt murmured.
They rode in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Wyatt knew he had to share the news. He wasn’t sure how Kori would take it.
“Listen, I thought you should know something happened last night. A couple of hikers found a dead body in the forest. It was a man.” He quickly added the last part before her mind could jump to conclusions.
Her eyes widened. “What? Who? Pete?”
“No, not Pete. We don’t know who he is yet. But he was shot.”
She rubbed her throat. “Something is going on out there, Wyatt. I don’t like this.”
“I agree.” His jaw tightened. “I don’t like this either.”
Wyatt noted that the trailhead parking lot was already busy when they pulled in.
Two official vehicles from Rockingham County were there, as well as one from Augusta. A state forestry vehicle with an equipment trailer backed up to the far end. Wyatt counted four handlers working their dogs through the lot—a second shepherd, two bloodhounds, and a Belgian Malinois.
Mackenzie’s vehicle, however, was gone. They’d had it towed back to the station last night. That was both protocol—there was a time limit on how long a vehicle could be there—and so they could better examine it for evidence.
Garrett Worthington was at the far end of the lot finishing his setup. He was a quiet, precise man from the state forestry division. A drone sat on its launch pad beside him.
Wyatt got out and ran through the plan with each team lead while Kori stood at the edge of the lot, coffee in hand as she watched everything. He caught himself checking on her more than he should.
He pulled the topographical map from his jacket and spread it across the hood of the truck. They’d divided the area into a search grid for their volunteer teams to cover. They were set to arrive in a couple of hours, and Graham would oversee them.
First, Garrett would send up the drone.
“I’m ready when you are,” Garrett said behind him.
“Let’s do it,” Wyatt said.
The drone lifted cleanly, clearing the tree line in seconds. As it did, Garrett’s tablet filled with the thermal feed.
Wyatt stepped closer, watching over his shoulder.
Cool blue landscape. Tree canopy. The irregular signatures of terrain and wildlife.
Small flashes of orange moved through the trees—quick, darting shapes. Deer or fox probably.
Garrett adjusted the angle, the drone climbing higher, widening the view.
The trail corridor came into focus—Wyatt could trace yesterday’s route in the topography, in the slight depression carved through the snow.
“Hold there a second,” Wyatt said.
Garrett slowed the drone.
Wyatt studied the screen, letting his eyes adjust, looking for anything that didn’t belong. “Take it north.”
The drone methodically moved deeper into the forest.
The terrain shifted subtly beneath the canopy. The trees grew denser. Fewer animal signatures appeared.
Garrett swept the camera left, then right.
Nothing.
Then his hand stilled. “There.”
Wyatt leaned in. On the screen—maybe two miles north of the main trail corridor—was a single, steady orange signature.
Not moving.
Not small.
Human.
Wyatt studied the image. The orange indicated something alive—though it could be an animal. Whatever it was, the object was stationary.
And that was exactly where he needed to head.
Kori noticed something change in Wyatt’s posture. She moved closer and peered at the tablet.
The white outline of the forest filled the screen, broken only by the glowing shape Garrett had pointed out.
A heat signature.
A person.
Her pulse hammered.
Was that Mackenzie? It had to be . . . right?
But another thought pushed in, colder and heavier than the rest.
Last night hikers had found a body in these woods. Not Pete. Not someone anyone recognized.
Just a man lying in the snow near Harrow’s Mill with no identification and no explanation for how he’d gotten there.
The news had sent a shiver through her.
Someone had died out here. And Mackenzie had been missing in these same mountains for seven days.
She couldn’t help but think that something evil was happening out there.
“We have to go.” Her voice cracked. “What if that’s my sister? What if she’s hurt?”
Wyatt touched her arm. “We will. Give us a minute.”
“But she’s been out there for—”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
Something about his voice calmed her.
His expression was the same one he’d worn yesterday on the trail—steady, grounded, impossible to rush. He didn’t push or dismiss or try to fix things too quickly. He simply held the moment where it was until everything else caught up.
Kori wasn’t used to that.
Flint had always been quick—quick to decide, quick to move on, quick to smooth things over before she’d fully processed them. And the few men she’d dated since hadn’t been much different. They’d all been the city-loving, career-oriented types.
This felt . . . different.
Kori forced herself to breathe.
She looked past the tablet to the trail marker. Lost Hollow Trail. The same place they’d started yesterday.
The trees beyond it stood silent under their blanket of snow, the narrow path disappearing into white.
Somewhere out there was the place they’d found Mackenzie’s backpack.
Somewhere beyond that was the place where a man had died.
Fear pressed against her ribs, sharp and insistent.
If someone had killed that man . . . what were the chances Mackenzie had simply gotten lost? Someone in this forest was willing to murder.
Kori’s fingers curled at her sides. Every instinct in her screamed to run down that trail. To find the heat signature before it vanished. To push past whatever stood between her and the truth.
But she’d learned long ago that panic made people careless. And careless people missed things. Or worse—they walked straight into danger.
She looked again at the glowing figure on the tablet.
Then at Wyatt.
He was already moving—talking quietly with Garrett, organizing the team, making sure they approached the heat signature the right way.
He wasn’t wasting time. He was making sure they didn’t make mistakes.
Kori pulled in one more breath and steadied herself.