Living remotely off the grid isn’t unusual on and around McBride Mountain, but this kind of reclusiveness is typically reserved for people who are hiding for a reason.
Connor leads the way in the direction he pointed, the three of us following closely and scanning for any signs of human activity in the otherwise pristine wilderness.
A few minutes pass before the trees start to open up in a way that doesn’t seem natural.
Liam pauses and looks to the left and right. “Is this it?”
We all do the same, turning in place to examine the trees around us. They tower high above the forest floor, creating a thick canopy, except right here.
A perfect strip of cleared land, without a single tree or stump to be seen, extends in either direction.
Killian lips pinch together firmly, and he squats to check something on the ground. He drifts his palm over the uneven foliage as if the land can speak to him in some way that I can’t hear. “It has to be. This isn’t natural.”
“That should be the way down the back side of the mountain.” Liam points to the southwest, then motions northwest. “This would be the way to the old logging area. Where do you think they’d put the cabin?”
Killian’s mouth twists as he considers it, and he runs a hand through his hair and pushes to his feet. “Let’s split up.”
It’s the best way to cover the most ground, but there are only four of us at the moment.
I look back toward the gorge. “Shouldn’t we wait for Sheriff Briggs and everyone else?”
Connor looks ready to respond when the sound of them making their way through the trees reaches us.
Excellent timing.
With almost two dozen people now gathering around us, the rest of the searchers remaining at the main campsite to spread out and examine the area between there and the gorge more thoroughly, we can create several teams and head out in each direction.
Tony stops next to Killian and rubs his lower back. “What’s the plan?”
Killian points in the direction of the old logging area. “I’m going up with Willow, Connor, and Liam. The rest of you go down the mountain in different directions in groups of five and locate the main trail they would have taken up. We’ll all look for the cabin and signal if we find it.”
Or anything else.
No one has explicitly said it to me, but everyone knows why most of the searchers are carrying firearms.
If whoever held me captive is still up here, he has to be considered dangerous.
And since cell phones don’t work, the only real way for the sheriff and our group to keep in contact is the walkie-talkies that may or may not work or to hope old-fashioned bird calls the loggers have used for generations can carry across the distance we create between our parties.
People move here for the seclusion, but today, it doesn’t play in our favor.
Sheriff Briggs considers the plan and nods. “We’ll make sure we cover as much of the mountain as possible. Be safe. We don’t know what we’re going to find.”
The comment shouldn’t come across as ominous, but a shiver slithers up my spine all the same.
Killian locks gazes with him, something unspoken passing between the two men. “You do the same.”
They clasp hands, say their goodbyes, and we set off up the trail.
The McBride brothers examine everything as we walk. Keen, observant gazes missing nothing. A broken branch. A shallow depression in the soil that could have been made by a bear or another predator. The one we seek now.
After another quarter mile, Connor halts, holding up his hand to ensure we all stop, too. He crouches. “Look.”
He points to the oddly packed ground, and I move around him to get a closer look at what turns out to be tire treads.
Killian squats beside him. “These are fresh. Within the last week. See how all the grass is compacted here? Someone’s been using this trail since Willow came back.”
My gut tightens, acid roiling.
