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ChapterTwenty-Seven
Ariana finished another water, and shoved the empty bottle into her backpack. It was dark out, and it felt like they’d been searching for a week. It had only been a few hours. But they’d found nothing.
Nothing.
They were either looking in the wrong place, or Rita had left no clues here.
Or the shirt had been planted to throw everyone off.
She didn’t want to even think about that possibility. Unless it meant that Rita was still alive, and the blood on the shirt wasn’t even hers.
Damon shone his light around. “Looks like we’re near the edge of the woods.”
Leaving felt like giving up, but she needed sleep. Every muscle ached. All she wanted was to climb into their soft bed and fall into a deep slumber. Maybe she’d even wake to good news.
“Are you okay?” Damon asked, taking her hand in his.
“I can’t believe we didn’t find anything. Not even litter from other hikers.”
“It’s possible we covered ground the cops already searched.”
“She has to be somewhere else.”
“Or deeper into the woods,” he said. “We’ve barely scratched the surface.”
A lump formed in her throat.
They might never find Rita. She hated that thought, but the more she learned about Boone, the more likely it seemed that he was capable of hiding something so horrific. He could find others to do the dirty work and NDA them into silence.
“Uh oh,” Damon said, and stopped at the edge of the trees.
Police cruisers were now parked on either side of his car. Two officers spoke with each other.
“What’s going on?” Ariana asked.
“That’s what I want to know.”
“Wait. What if they plan to arrest us?”
“For what?” he asked.
“Looking for Rita. The detective told us to let them handle it.”
“They can’t arrest us for hiking in the woods.”
“But they could charge us for something,” she insisted. “We went against what they told us.”
“We’ll fight it. Any of my dad’s old attorneys would help me in a heartbeat.”
“I’m not sure I’d want their help.”
He laced his fingers through hers. “Let’s find out what’s going on. I’m positive they can’t charge us with anything.”
She would have to lean on his certainty.
They crossed the street, and she stood as tall as possible, trying not to reveal either her fear or her exhaustion.
“Damon and Ariana Jones?” asked one of the officers, his tone grave.
