Page 160 of Running to You

In front of Jon’s truck, there was a black Lincoln Navigator.

“Whose is that?” Sam asked.

“Belongs to GBPS.” Right. The protection company Grant had worked at for years. “Hughes drove it up. He’s been here since early morning.”

Outside the truck, Grant and Sam shoved in ear pieces and tested them, strapped on double holsters, and checked their weapons. Pistols on the right, tasers on the left.

“You ready?” Grant asked.

“Lead the way.”

There was no trail, so they picked their way over downed trees and prickly bushes. The day before, Grant had tied thin strips of red plastic around narrow tree trunks so they only had to walk from one to the next. It took twenty minutes to traverse the half mile to the hill above the campground, where Jon was lying on the ground, watching through the dense forest.

Sam dropped on one side of him and got his first glimpse of the lodge.

It was a one-story wood-sided structure with a red brick chimney on one end. Windows lined the long side facing them, each blocked by dark fabric or paper. The front and side of the property had been cleared of bushes and debris ten or fifteen feet out from the building. Meaning there was no cover if somebody wanted to get close.

On Jon’s other side, Grant asked, “Hughes?”

Jon nodded toward a small building in the woods on the far side of the lodge. “He’s watching through the attic window.”

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“Equipment shed.” Nobody would ever accuse Jon of being loquacious.

“Anything in it?”

“A four-wheeler and a dirt bike.”

“That’s weird, right? Hasn’t this place been abandoned for years?”

Jon didn’t respond, but another voice spoke in his ear. “They’re as old as the hills. Doubt they even run.” Must be Hughes on comm.

“Any sign of Keller or…anybody?” Sam asked.

“One man left around nine a.m., hasn’t come back.” Hughes again.

Eliza wouldn’t even be in Augusta yet. If there wasn’t someone at the bus stop waiting for her, it could be after nine before she reached the lodge. It was barely four.

“You have a layout of the campground?”

Jon backed up, stood, and walked away. Maybe Sam had asked one too many questions. But he came back a minute later, resumed his prone position, and handed a tablet to him. The screen showed an overhead view of the property.

“Thanks.” Sam spent the next few minutes studying the layout. They were pretty high on a mountain, and the slope must’ve been fairly steep, considering how the road wound back and forth, turning a half mile as the crow flies into a two-or-more-mile drive. No quick exit—but no quick entry for police and other first responders, either.

Smaller structures were interspersed beyond the lodge all the way across the valley to a small lake.

“Cabins,” Jon supplied.

Except one was so tiny, Sam couldn’t imagine it was large enough for even a cot. “What’s that?”

“Pump house.”

“Ah.” Beyond that… Sam spread the image to get a better look. “Is that a road?”

Jon glanced at the screen. “We checked it out yesterday. It’s an overgrown trail. Leads up that far slope.” Jon tipped his head, and Sam looked that way. Another tree-covered mountain hemmed this valley in on the far side. “Too narrow for an SUV. There’s only one way out, and we’re going to block it after Eliza gets here. Don’t worry.” The corner of his lip tipped up—the beginning of a smile, or maybe a smirk. “We got this. Nobody’s going anywhere.”

Over the next few hours, three more bodyguards showed up. Jon went over the plan with everyone. “Obviously, this is subject to change after we get a look inside.”