“I heard the first noise maybe fifty minutes ago. I wasn’t absolutely certain it was a person until I heard someone taking a whizz against a tree. That was five minutes ago.”
“Okay. I’m going to come out there. He’s intent on the cabin. It might be our best chance to ambush him. It’ll take me about thirty minutes.”
At a noise from me, he glances over. I shake my head. When he scowls, I say, “You’re not going alone. You’ll take me or someone else.”
“She’s right, Eric,” Yolanda says. “Yes, that’ll add a few minutes to your ETA, but you need backup. You guys work that out, and I’ll expect you here in forty-five. In the meantime, I’ll wake Will.”
“Make some noise, too,” I say. “Or turn on a flashlight. Something to be clear that the cabin is occupied. That should keep your intruder curious enough to hang around until we get there.”
“We?” Dalton says.
“If you want someone else, say so, but Dana said we can drop Rory off at any time.”
He grumbles, but I’m right. If this was a patrol mission, he’d have a list of people he could take. But it’s an ambush, and that’s police work, and the only people he’d trust with that are Anders and me.
I get up and wave for him to finish the conversation while I dress. “I’ll take Rory and meet you out front.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It takes more than fifteen minutes to get a sleeping baby up and relocated, complete with diaper bag and bottles. But we make up the time by moving fast through the forest, and we’re there within forty-five minutes. If someone’s still around, they’ll see our flashlight. We aren’t concerned about drawing attention until we get close.
When we do approach, we douse the light and pause to let our eyes adjust. It’s a quarter moon and a clear night. We can see well enough to stay on the path without light.
There’s a rise to the east of the cabin, and we silently climb it, being careful not to scrape rock underfoot. Once we’re in position, we can see the cabin and the open land in front of it. Open and empty land. We keep scanning until I spot a dark shape, hunkered in the woods. When I point it out to Dalton, he grimaces, as if I’m seeing a bush.
I take out the binoculars and look. Yes, Iamseeing a bush, but it has a dark hood protruding over the top. I don’t pass the binoculars to Dalton yet. I focus on the man’s face. He’s looking toward the cabin, which means I’m on an angle, but Ishould be able to make out the guy’s profile. Instead, all I see is black.
Is he looking the other way? I don’t think so. I can see a hood, but where there should be a face, there’s a dark nothingness.
Gretchen said her stalker seemed dark-skinned. What I’m seeing is blackness—the kind that comes from fabric… like a balaclava. We certainly have plenty in town, and so would anyone up here in winter. I should see eyeholes, with surrounding skin or light eyes, but I don’t. Dark skin and dark eyes?
No, there’s an odd bulge where his eyes would be, the profile going out where it should dip in.
He’s wearing goggles.
I hadn’t really processed that part of Gretchen’s story. She said she couldn’t even see her attacker’s eye color because he was wearing goggles. That’s notwhyhe wore them, though. It would be hard to see with goggles at night, where any impediment is a problem. Unless the goggles are the opposite of an impediment.
“Night vision,” I murmur under my breath.
Dalton grunts in question, but I only pass him the binoculars. He takes them, and I wait until he focuses on the head peeking above the bush. Another grunt tells me Dalton sees him.
I lean in and whisper, “Balaclava and goggles, probably night-vision.”
He nods and then returns the binoculars, takes out the phone, and motions that he’s stepping away to call the cabin. He needs to let Anders know we’re about to move in.
I keep my binoculars trained on the man. I’m going to presume it’s a man. Gretchen thought so, and Yolanda’s line about hearing someone peeing on a tree suggests Gretchen was right.
He stands there, just watching the cabin. There’s a light oninside. Is that why he isn’t making any moves? Is he waiting for that light to go out?
Lilith said her intruder tried the door and then seemed to be taunting her. If he couldn’t get in, maybe he could lure her out.
A blip sounds as someone inside answers the phone. Then Anders’s voice, low and steady. I can’t hear what he’s saying. It’s just a low male voice. But at the sound, the stalker’s head jerks up. He creeps toward the cabin, head tilted to listen.
Then he takes off.
“Eric!” I whisper-hiss as I start after the guy. Dalton catches up as I reach the cabin.
“He bolted,” I whisper.
