Chapter 3
My old truck rattled down the street, the air conditioner set on high to counteract the heat. I drove Destiny toward my house in the woods. I’d been granted a reprieve from her questions when her phone rang and she unapologetically answered. By the extent of the conversation, she and her mom, the caller on the other end, appeared close.
Smart that she’d tell others where she was going, leaving a trail to follow.
I pulled into my long bumpy drive. My log cabin sat ahead of us, but I veered right toward the barn instead.
“Mom, I’ve got to go. I think we’re about to grab some gear and head up the mountain.” She nodded. “I promise. I’ll be careful and let you know if we find him. I love you.”
She hung up and slipped the phone into her pocket. “Who lives here?”
“I do,” I answered, getting out of the truck, not waiting to see if she followed.
The truck door slammed behind me. She was quick to reach my side. “What are we doing here?”
“Saving time,” I said, bypassing the house and heading toward the barn where I kept my equipment.
“I have my backpack and I saw yours in the backseat. Shouldn’t we be heading to the trails?” she asked.
I slipped the key into the lock, twisted, and yanked it free. The hinges squeaked as I pulled the large door open.
Unlike a normal barn with stacks of hay and cattle, mine held the tools of my trade. My hunting equipment and four-wheeler sat inside. The mixture of dark and light green camouflage matched the mountains' wooded slopes while I tried to catch poachers.
“Knowing the location of where your friend went missing…”
“Putnam,” she interjected.
“Right,” I said, grabbing a gas can and topping off the tank before strapping the gas can on to the back for the return trip. I’d made the mistake of running out of gas before and I wasn’t about to do it again. “Well, we could walk, but it will be faster if we take my four-wheeler through the trees and brush, up as far as we can. After that, when we reach the crossing, we’ll have to go on foot.”
“Okay, so where’s mine?”
“I only have one. You’ll have to ride with me.” I left her standing there and crossed the yard to my truck. Grabbing both packs and my camping gear, I walked back into the barn.
I strapped my bags down on the iron grate in the back and held her backpack out so she could slip it up her arms. I left her again and headed into the house to grab my shotgun and some ammo. My sister, Clara, had thought my shoulder holster and gun would be enough, but I knew these woods better than her. They might seem like a peaceful place, but I understood the types of animals using the trees as their playground, and sometimes those animals walked upright on two legs.
I grabbed two jackets on my way out the door and tied them down with my bag onto the tailgate rack.
“Are you done?” she asked in an impatient tone.
I slid the shotgun into the holster I’d mounted on my four-wheeler and double-checked the safety of the Glock in my arm holster. I gestured to our ride. “After you.”
She slid on and scooted up to the handlebars.
Cute.
“No one drives but me. Scoot back.”
Her brows furrowed. “Fine.”
I ignored the heavy dose of irritation in that one-word answer. I didn’t have time to coddle her.
“If you’ve seen the show, then you know I can drive one of these.”
“I have seen the show, and I wasn’t impressed,” I said, climbing on after she got situated.
I started the four-wheeler before reaching for her hand, which rested on my waist, and pulling her closer and snug with my body. “Hold on tight. It’s going to get bumpy. If you need to stop, squeeze me twice.”
“You act like—”
