Ghost’s patience, already threadbare, snapped. “FBI agent. Long black hair, brown eyes. Stubborn as hell. She disappeared last night.”
“And you think she’s here?” Cole’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly on the rifle.
Bear shifted in his saddle, the leather creaking beneath him. “Nobody’s accusing you of anything.”
“Yet.” The word hung in the air between them.
Ghost wanted to tear the place apart, search every inch of Cole’s property until he found her. But the rifle, the dog, and the man’s hard stare all promised that approach would end badly. He forced himself to breathe through the urge to move.
“Our dogs tracked her here,” Greta said, voice steady. “Then lost the scent. We just want to know if you’ve seen or heard anything unusual in the last twelve hours. Vehicles on the logging road, strangers in the woods, anything.”
Cole studied them for another long moment, then whistled softly. The massive dog at his feet stood down, sinking back to the porch boards with a heavy sigh.
“Haven’t seen your agent,” he said finally. “But Tilly was barking at something the night before last. Down by the old Kettering barn, ‘bout two miles east of here.”
Ghost’s heart rate kicked up. “What time?”
“Middle of the night. Two, maybe three in the morning.”
“Did you check it out?” Bear asked.
Cole’s mouth twitched. “Not my business what happens off my property.”
Ghost bit back the urge to call him a selfish prick. Instead, he leaned forward in the saddle, forcing his voice to stay level. “The barn. How do we get there?”
Cole pointed toward a narrow game trail that branched off to the east. “Follow that until you hit the creek. Cross at the shallows, then head uphill. Can’t miss it—old red barn, half theroof caved in. Used to be a hunting cabin attached, but that burned down years ago.”
“Can you show us?” Greta asked.
“No.” Cole’s expression closed off completely. “I stay on my land.”
Ghost wanted to argue, to drag the man along, but Greta caught his eye and shook her head slightly. Not worth the fight.
“Thanks for the lead,” she said to Cole. “If you hear anything else?—”
“I won’t.” Cole turned back toward his door and disappeared inside without another word. Tilly remained on the porch, dark eyes tracking them as they turned the horses and headed for the trail Cole had indicated. Only when they were a good fifty yards away did Ghost hear the dog finally retreat inside.
“Friendly guy,” Bear muttered, ducking under a low-hanging branch.
“He’s not as bad as he seems,” Greta said. “Just prefers his own company.”
Ghost didn’t care about Cole’s social preferences. All he cared about was the barn and whether Naomi was there. He urged Coyote forward, pushing the pace until the trail narrowed too much to risk it.
The woods were thick here, the undergrowth tangled with thorns and deadfall. Each step seemed to take forever, the horses picking their way carefully over roots and rocks. Ghost’s skin crawled with impatience. He wanted to dismount and run ahead, but even he knew that would be stupid in this terrain.
They reached the creek fifteen minutes later. The water ran fast and cold, swollen from the recent rain. Greta led them to a crossing point where the streambed widened and flattened out, the water barely reaching the horses’ knees.
As they climbed the far bank, Ghost caught a flash of something through the trees—weathered red boards, the remnants of a structure. The barn.
He signaled to the others, pointing. Bear nodded, his hand dropping to his hip where Ghost knew he carried a .45. Greta whistled softly, and Atlas came to heel, ears perked forward.
The horses sensed their tension, shifting nervously beneath them. Ghost dismounted first, tying Coyote to a sturdy pine. Bear and Greta did the same with their mounts.
“I’ll take point,” Ghost said, his voice low. “Cinder, stay.”
The dog looked unhappy about the command but obeyed, settling next to the horses. King did the same at Bear’s signal, though with obvious reluctance.
Ghost drew his weapon and moved forward through the trees, every sense heightened. The barn came fully into view—an old, listing structure with most of its paint weathered away. One side had partially collapsed, leaving a gaping hole where double doors should have been.
