I found one in a drawer and handed it to him. With practiced movements, Caleb straightened the clip and bent the end into asmall hook. He inserted it into the lock while applying pressure with the card.
“Security consultant, huh?” I remarked as I watched his fingers work with surprising dexterity.
“Among other things.” The lock clicked, and Caleb’s eyebrows rose in satisfaction. “There we go.”
My heart pounded as he lifted the lid. Inside lay a small notebook and a folded piece of paper. Caleb reached for the paper first, unfolding it carefully.
“It’s a map,” he said, spreading it on the table. “Of Jake’s property, looks like.”
I leaned closer. The hand-drawn map showed the farmhouse, barn, and outbuildings with the surrounding fields, but there were markings I didn’t recognize—X’s and circles in various locations, with numbers scrawled beside them.
“What do you think those mean?” I asked, pointing to the markings.
“Not sure.” His brow furrowed as he studied the map. “But I’d bet they’re locations for whatever those ‘certain people’ are looking for.”
I picked up the notebook next, flipping through pages of cramped handwriting. “Dates and numbers. Lots of numbers.” I turned another page. “Wait—these look like coordinates.”
Caleb grabbed his phone. “Let me see if these match up with the marks on the map.”
“You think your brother is involved in something?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“No,” Caleb shook his head. “Jake isn’t like that.”
Scout suddenly lifted his head, ears perked toward the front door. A moment later, the distinct crunch of tires on snow reached us.
“Someone’s here,” I whispered, gathering the items and shoving them back into the box.
Caleb reached for his crutches, moving surprisingly quickly to the window. He peered through a gap in the curtains. “Blue pickup truck. Woman getting out—silver hair, overalls.”
My stomach dropped. “Margret.”
“Get the box somewhere safe,” Caleb instructed, his voice low. “I’ll handle our visitor.”
I hurried to Ella’s bedroom, frantically searching for a hiding place. The closet seemed too obvious, as did under the mattress. Finally, I spotted the heating vent on the floor. Working quickly, I lifted the cover and stuck my hand down into the vent. I laid the box onto the ductwork as far as I could reach, then replaced the vent just as a knock sounded at the front door.
Taking a deep breath, I rejoined Caleb, who had positioned himself on the couch, his injured leg propped up casually as if he’d been resting all morning. He gave me a slight nod as another knock, louder this time, echoed through the house.
“Ready?” he murmured.
“No,” I admitted. “But let’s get this over with.”
I crossed to the door, Scout at my heels, and turned the knob, plastering what I hoped was a relaxed expression on my face.
Margret Holloway stood on the porch, a covered dish in her hands and a smile that looked fake.
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” she said cheerfully. “Just thought I’d bring by some fresh-baked cinnamon rolls. Welcome to the neighborhood and all that.”
Chapter 4
Lana
“Well, that’s... kind of you,” I said, hesitating before stepping back. “Would you like to come in for a minute?”
As Margret crossed the threshold, Scout’s demeanor changed instantly. His hackles rose, and a low, rumbling growl vibrated through his chest. I stared at him in shock—I’d never heard him make that sound before, not even when I first came to Wolf Creek.
“Scout,” I scolded gently, though my pulse quickened. I’d spent enough time with him to know he was an excellent judge of character. “Sorry about that. He’s usually so friendly.”
Margret’s smile tightened as she eyed the dog warily. “Farm dogs can be protective. No offense taken.”
