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This wasn’t fair. She should take the risk, not him. But the determination in his voice suggested she not even try to argue the point. “Fine.”
“We’ll go slow.”
And they did. It felt as if hours passed as they walked up the drive. More like lumbered. He measured every step and constantly scanned the area. Sometimes minutes ticked by between moves. Once or twice he shuffled his feet.
With every placement of his foot he made a mark. She guessed that was his form of leaving bread crumbs for them to find their way back again. Tedious or not, the process worked.
They got to the front of the cabin and she finally unclenched her fingers from his belt loops.
Instead of a feeling of relief and being ready to go, dread washed over her. The usual broken and cracked pots filled his porch, but there was no sign of Roger. His truck sat in its spot. She never quite understood how he got that thing in there, through the tangle of branches and over the explosives, but he did and refused to share the secret.
“This is bad.” She whispered the comment before she could think it through. Didn’t even know she was saying it until it spilled out. “The lack of gunfire.”
“The front door is open.”
She followed his gaze and stared at the green door. Didn’t see anything wrong with it. “You can tell?”
“It’s not lining up with the trim.” He pointed as he talked. “I also see a trip wire at the top of the stairs. Is that normally there?”
“No, but how in the world can you—”
“Perfect eyesight and expensive training.” Holt glanced around the wooded area one last time before turning to her. “Call for him.”
“Roger?” She shouted his name two more times. Birds fluttered in the trees at the sound of her voice, but nothing and no one else moved. He didn’t come out and threaten, which was what she expected him to do if he saw a stranger with her. He might even fire a warning shot first.
Holt swore and mumbled something about sleeping in. “Does this Roger have any friends he could be visiting?”
That was an easy one. “No.”
“Let’s go this way.” Instead of walking up the front steps as she expected, as any regular person would do, Holt took them around to the side of the porch. He crouched down and peered under the slats. Used a stick he found on the ground to tap different sections of the wood. Whatever he saw or heard must have satisfied him, because he held out a hand to boost her up onto the railing. “Here.”
Going first made her stomach tumble, and not in the good way. She feared setting her foot down the wrong way or putting too much weight on one board over another. So she sat there and waited for Holt to pop up over the side. He did and kept going. Straddled the railing and headed for the door with careful steps.
Holt pivoted around pots filled with dirt and others set up in what looked like a haphazard grouping but really served as yet another warning system for Roger. “Do you see anything out of the ordinary for this guy?”
She knew the place looked as if it had been left in disarray, but this was how it always looked to her. The tickling sensation at the back of her neck proved to be the bigger issue. She didn’t ignore her body’s panic signals. Not anymore.
She guessed Holt operated on what he could see and understand, but she told him the truth anyway. “No, but it doesn’t feel right.”
“I think we should follow your gut on this one.” He delivered the surprise statement, then held out a hand to her. “Stay behind me and watch the path.”
The comment and the feel of his palm against hers had barely registered when he pushed the door open. He didn’t need to turn the knob. A gentle touch sent it swinging.
He took half a step and froze. “Damn.”
“What?” She peeked over his shoulder and immediately regretted it. Her gaze went to the blob on the floor. Dark and huge, the stain grew as she watched. Then the reality hit her as a buzzing started in her head. “Is that...”
She couldn’t say the word. Not when she was too busy trying not to heave.
“If I had to guess, I’d say blood.” Holt squeezed her hand, then let go. “And too much of it.”
She watched him reach for his phone. He pressed in a few numbers, then disconnected. Then he started taking photos.
Every choice struck her as sick and wrong. None of the callous indifference matched the man she’d seen in action over the past few days.
She grabbed his arm, thinking to spin him around. He didn’t move while he shifted in front of her. “What are you doing?”
“I called in Cam and now I’m preserving the scene until he gets here.”
