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CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
The truck bumped and groaned over the uneven dirt road, jarring Killian and forcing Logan to hang on to the “oh shit” handle.
“Jesus, why do people live off roads like this?” complained Logan as they jounced over a big bump.
“No clue,” replied Killian.
The road was steeped in shadows. Australian pine trees, palmetto palms, and live oak mingled with scrub brush surrounded both sides of the road. They continued on it for almost a mile.
“I think we’re about a half mile from Jenkins’s house,” said Logan.
Headlights loomed behind them as the convoy headed forward. Thankfully, it was late morning.
“Stop!” yelled out Logan.
“What?” asked Killian, the knot of tension in his gut growing.
“I see something,” Logan replied.
Killian put on his emergency blinkers and pulled over to the side of the road. “What do you see?”
Logan opened the door and pointed into the woods. “I see a white truck through the undergrowth.”
The group stopped, got out of their vehicles, and walked over to Killian’s truck.
“What’s going on?” asked Sam.
Logan nodded toward the woods. “See the truck?”
It was difficult to see through the branches. “Let’s take a closer look,” said Sam.
They pushed their way into the brush, tension hanging heavy in the air. The earthy scent of pine needles infused the air. Would they find Anne and Silas’s bodies in it? Killian shivered. Thorns caught Killian’s pants and tore at his skin. A short way into the forest, they saw it.
There was Martin’s white truck, looking a little worse for wear. It was well hidden in the trees, and Killian was amazed Logan spotted it. Killian prayed that Anne and Silas were not in it before he ran over.
Logan got there first and opened the door. Martin’s lifeless body was humped over the steering wheel. Logan pushed him back, and they saw the bullet hole smack in the middle of his forehead.
Killian scanned the area around the truck. No more bodies. Good.
“I think there was trouble in Gotham City,” said Pete. “I hope Anne and Silas are okay.”
“Let’s go,” said Killian. “There’s nothing more to see here.”
They tramped back to the vehicles. Killian forged ahead. He couldn’t care less if Martin were dead. He got what was coming to him, as would Jenkins when they got to his house.
“Stop!” Logan shouted again.
“What now?” asked Killian, his eyes scanning the shadows. He was eager to get to Jenkins’s house.
“I see bushes moving and a head peeking out from behind that bush.” He pointed to the side of the road.
They stopped again and got out, their senses on high alert. “Where?” asked Killian.
“Over there.” Logan gestured to a big undergrowth of thorny bushes.
They cautiously walked over when a shrill voice screamed, “Mr. Killian! I’m over here.”
Silas came racing out of the bush. He was covered in scratches and blood. Blood? Killian’s heart stopped. Anne? Where was she? Was she okay? The little boy jumped into his arms.
