Hersh kicked the barn door open violently.
It banged against the wall hard enough to shake dust from the rafters.
We flooded inside.
Darkness swallowed us immediately.
The smell hit first.
Hay.
Oil.
Rainwater.
Old wood.
And something else.
Something metallic.
Blood.
Wolf swept left with his rifle raised.
“Clear.”
Trigger checked the loft.
“Top’s clear!”
Rook moved deeper into the barn slowly, flashlight cutting through shadows.
Then the beam landed on the floor.
And stopped.
My breath caught.
There were drag marks in the dirt.
Fresh ones.
Leading toward the back wall.
Hersh saw them too.
“Someone already searched this place.”
Rook crouched beside the marks carefully.
“No,” he said quietly.
His flashlight shifted.
Revealing bloody fingerprints smeared across the wood.
“Someone found it.”
